But before he takes more than two steps, the world around us erupts in a storm of flashing lights and blaring sirens.
“What the hell?” Dante shouts.
“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Jeremy snaps. “Someone triggered the alarm.”
We all turn to the guards on the floor. The one Draven questioned is curled into a fetal ball. The other one, the fat one, smirks at us. He holds up his phone.
“Busted,” the guard sputters. “How’s it feel to be royal screwups?”
Draven squats down next to him, places a hand on either side of his blubbery face, and stares into his eyes. “You think you’re home free?” he asks, pulling at the guard’s name tag. “Aaron? You think this is over?” He stands up and kicks the guard in the stomach. “It’s not. I know who you are. I know what has happened to these people. I’ll remember you. And I’ll come back for you.”
“Damn it!” Jeremy yells, sounding frantic. “The building is going into lockdown.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“Systems are instituting Tier Red protocols,” he replies.
Tier Red ? Is that supposed to mean something? I clench my jaw at his unhelpful response.
“Translate.” Draven growls.
“Essentially, every hack I did to get you inside is now code-blocked.” Jeremy mumbles something unintelligible. “This building is about to become more impenetrable than NORAD.”
It takes a moment for his words to sink in, and then we run, full out, toward the hall and the evacuation tunnel.
If everyone’s gone, if the place really has been cleared out, then there’s no point in searching the facility. I don’t know if we should take the guard’s word for it, but staying pretty much guarantees we’ll be caught.
“We’re on our way,” Draven snarls.
I’m panting. “We’ll be at the tunnel door in—”
“No!” Jeremy shouts. “It’s armed it with some kind of bioelectric explosive. You’ll die if you go anywhere near it.”
“Can’t you deactivate it?” I ask.
Tortuous silence follows as the alarms shriek, then, “No. It’s a closed system. I would have to be hardwired in.”
“The front door,” Dante suggests.
Draven nods. “Go big, or go home.”
“Just”—Jeremy gets distracted—“give me a minute.”
A computerized voice fills the air around us. “SHPD forces have been dispatched. Estimated time of arrival…” We all hold our breath as the voice calculates. “Four minutes.”
Draven mutters a string of curses.
“We don’t have a minute,” Dante shouts.
“Hold on, baby,” Rebel tells him, her voice tight with strain. “Jeremy’s working. We’ll get you out.”
I trust her, trust Jeremy, but standing there waiting for Jeremy’s instruction—doing nothing while guards are probably closing in—is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. My heart is racing, my breath coming in little shallow pants. Not wanting to hyperventilate, I force myself to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. But it’s hard. So hard. Especially with Dante and Draven pacing the hallway like caged animals.
Nitro isn’t much better. He pounds his fist into his palm, sending a spray of amber sparks each time his hands connect. It’s only a matter of time before he sets something on fire. But freaking out won’t solve anything, I remind myself as I try to calm down. Jeremy will figure it out. Jeremy will get us out of here. He may be a paranoid conspiracy nut, but he’s good in an emergency.
I wrap my arms around myself for comfort, but when I grab my right arm with my left hand, I feel that same burning sensation I’d felt earlier when Nitro pulled me off Draven.
“Okay, I’ve got it!” Jeremy shouts. “Kenna, tell me your exact location.”
I look around. “We’re in the south hall on sub-level two, between labs B227 and B229.”
We listen to the keyboard clicks.
“I need you to get to the freight elevator at the end of the west hall.”
I take off at a run. The guys follow close behind. Tonight it pays to know this building like the back of my hand.
“Freeze,” Jeremy shouts. “There are guards around that corner. Hold on, I’ll set off a sensor in the lobby, so they should be…”
I plaster myself to the wall as his words trail off. Our harsh breathing is masked by the blaring alarm as we wait for Jeremy’s next instructions.
“Okay, they’re in the stairwell. Go.”
It seems like an eternity before we reach the freight elevator. The door is easily three times as large as a normal elevator door, built to fit even the largest scientific equipment.
“We’re here,” I pant. “Should I press the—”
“No,” Jeremy interrupts. “Don’t. I’m locking the elevator on the floor above you.”
Now what? If he didn’t want us to take the elevator, then why are we— “Okay, the car is locked. The doors are carbon-reinforced steel. Nitro, can you burn through them?”
“Can I?” Nitro’s face twists into a look of maniacal glee. A bright green ball of energy, no bigger than a cupcake, floats between his outstretched palms.