Michael stared as some of the droplets fell sideways. Some fell up. In a matter of seconds, the entire Lance had melted into tiny drops of silver that flew in all directions, defying physics. Michael could only think that some type of magnetism had occurred.
He looked up at the guard with the gun and realized he was staring, too. But then the man met his gaze.
“What did you do?” he asked, more nervous than angry. “What was that thing?”
“Honestly?” Michael responded. “I have no idea. Someone who gets paid a lot more than you do told me to put it there and press a few buttons. So I did.”
The man had no chance to respond. A riot of sounds suddenly filled the air. Then sparks erupted from the device. The pulsing hum stopped, only to be replaced by what sounded like great sheets of metal warping.
“What’s going on?” the man shouted, fear lighting up his face, which now glistened with sweat.
Michael was scared himself. All he could do was shrug.
“Get up top,” the guard ordered, then started climbing the ladder.
Michael reached for the next rung above him, and as soon as he clasped it, everything began to shake. The sounds got louder.
Michael climbed as the entire building shook violently. The blue sea of lights scattered among Kaine’s Core programming flared and flashed, popping and exploding, and sheets of circuits began to break off the walls and fall, rattling off other parts of the core as they plummeted. The heat rose quickly, scorching Michael as he clambered up the ladder.
He pulled himself up onto the catwalk behind the guard to see Bryson and Sarah, hands cuffed behind their backs, being herded toward the exit. The structure swayed back and forth as the world quaked and every person with a free hand held on to something for support. Flames licked up from below as the core collapsed in on itself. The noise was unbearable.
The man who’d come after Michael had his gun in Michael’s face. He shouted, “We get out of this building, and then we deal with you! Now go! I’ll be right behind you the whole way!”
Michael nodded. Agent Weber would Lift them out of Lifeblood Deep. She would.
And so he went. Around the catwalk, stumbling and lurching. He held on to the rail like the other guards, though hot, furious air blew up from the crumbling center of the room. Sweat soaked his whole body, and he kept moving, the guard pressing the gun into his back, pushing him.
He made it to the door. Exited into the hallway.
Something exploded behind them, a quick ripping of sound and air. The building heaved.
Michael ran down the hallway, around a corner. He tripped, caught his balance, ran to the stairwell, to his friends and the other guards.
Down they went, leaping from step to step.
Another explosion.
The building jolted.
Michael fell.
Got back up.
He was at the landing of the second floor. Down more stairs. They reached the first floor, stumbled into the hallway. Around yet another corner. They were going in a different direction this time, heading for the front door instead of the back. Several explosions tore through the air. Michael and everyone else fell down. Got back up. Dust choked them. They kept moving, made it to the exit, out into the sun and the streets.
Other men and women with weapons waited outside. Beyond them, crowds of people had gathered to watch the commotion. Fire trucks lined the streets, and cop cars, both wheeled and hovering, sat abandoned, their lights flashing.
Michael’s mind spun and his muscles burned. He could barely see, sweat blurring his vision on top of the sudden brightness. Now that they were out of the building, the man who’d pushed him along grabbed him roughly and dragged him farther away, to an area where others were taking Bryson and Sarah. To a big black truck, whose doors two men had just opened.
“Weber,” Michael breathed, stumbling along, barely able to keep his feet under him. “Weber.” He swiveled his head, searching for a Portal, wondering if he could make a break for it. Something wasn’t right. He hadn’t thought this far ahead, but things were supposed to go down differently.
Plant and trigger the Lance. Get Lifted.
Suddenly, like a waking dream, Gabby appeared. She was in the crowd, pushing past people, running toward Michael. He stared at her. He didn’t understand.
“Jax!” she screamed, her face lit with terror, sprinting straight at him. Two cops chased her. “Michael!”
“Gabby?” he whispered, barely hearing it himself. What the hell was going on?
“It’s not real!” she yelled, just as one of the cops grabbed her arm. “I mean, it is real! They tricked you! I should never have helped—” The other cop slugged her in the head with his nightstick and she collapsed to the ground.
Unable to form words, Michael screamed, a bloodcurdling sound that pierced his own ears. It came from everywhere inside him, a banshee cry born of confusion and pain. He was pushed ahead, and he lost sight of Gabby.
They were throwing his friends into the back of the truck. Panic surged inside Michael. No, no, no. Everything was so wrong.