I take a few long, steady breaths, trying to convince myself I would never harm Karl. I can't just say it, though. I have to mean it, but my new years' resolutions to do five-hundred pushups a day are more genuine.
I settle on the thought that I wouldn't hurt him because I can't stand the agony it would cause my head. My brain and I seem to agree on this. The stabbing lessens until I'm back to just a persistent hum.
I stoop to pick up my backpack and halt. Underneath one of the computer stations is an open box—with books.
The game is on.
I sling the backup over my shoulder and pull out the box.
A thud sounds from the stairwell.
Footsteps. Talking.
People are heading up to the second floor.
I try to still my racing thoughts. No one is going to bother me. They don't know who belongs here.
Except I have no idea if that's actually true.
With a groan, I lift the box and lug it toward the stairwell. Two men open the door just as I approach. My heart kicks up. I've been seen. Moment of truth.
One of the men is holding the door open for me.
“Thanks,” I say, sounding winded, because I am. Then I hurry as fast as I can down the stairs to the first floor.
The main lab is still in use.
I drop the box near the emergency exit, then stroll into the lab. I try to act like I belong here. I don't know how that is, though, so I just duck my head and enter the bathrooms.
Empty.
I toss the backpack in the sink and unzip it. Each balloon contains measured amounts of the ingredients and an attached length of magnesium ribbon. A long piece of ribbon, at that.
I drop one of the balloons in the wastebasket, trailing the ribbon toward the exit. Then I yank a forest-worth of towels from the dispenser and spread them over the floor. The camouflage is half-assed.
I have to move quick.
I yank up the backpack and stroll out of the lab and over to the small office. The door is unlocked. I dart inside, plant another balloon bomb, and cross to the library.
The girl who had been watching anime is gone.
I jog into the reading area. At least I can work without being caught. As long as no one stops by the library, anyway.
I tuck a balloon on a bottom shelf, roll out the ribbon across the entire length of the room, and exit toward the hall. I deliver to each of the three small labs and one to the museum. I just toss that one on the floor.
No more stealth.
The plan is to light two ribbons and then run. The subsequent explosion should reach the rest of the bombs in no time, causing a chain reaction. Since this is on the ground floor, the whole building should collapse.
I bolt for the emergency exit. Just as I'm about to slam through it, I notice the fire alarm on the wall.
Bingo. My moral compass can point north again.
I pull the alarm. Blaring fills the building. It does nothing to the hum in my head.
Sprinklers turn on. They are not going to cause a problem for my build-a-bomb explosions. Ah, the power of magnesium.
People start yelling.
I yank up the box of books and kick open the emergency doors. My car is straight ahead. I run for it, pull open the door, and throw the box into the backseat.
The blowtorch is in my hand before I'm even back in the building. People are scurrying about, trying to find the fire.
I race to the lab bathrooms, sliding on wet tile, and throw open the door. The paper towels flutter away. I catch myself on the jamb with one hand and lean down to light the ribbon.
It catches. I haul ass to the library, swing inside the reading area, and light another ribbon.
That should do it.
I toss the blowtorch aside and scramble out the emergency exit, the blaring sound finally louder than the hum. People are still yelling and carrying on.
Well, I gave the idiots a warning.
I fumble with the keys in the ignition and slam the car in reverse. Hand on the back of the passenger seat, I turn as I pull out.
My gaze lands on the books.
They have black spines.
These are the wrong books.
“Oh, sweet Mary.” I throw the car into park and scramble out.
The hum is back with an attitude.
Where the hell are those books? Where in that whole place could they possibly be?
I smack the side of my head once as if that has ever helped and run toward the building. I can't leave without the books, but they weren't in the library. They weren't in the teaching lab. I checked everywhere.
Except the wet dirt lab.
I dodge through the crowd in the exit and head into the stairwell, taking the steps three at a time. The hum vibrates along with the railing. I think people are still yelling, but I can't hear them.
I burst onto the second floor and lunge for the wet dirt lab. The door is unlocked.
There they are. Right on a table in the middle of the goddamned room.
I lug up the crate of books with gold colored spines and turn for the door.
An explosion blasts downstairs. Another follows right after.
Sirens approach from outside.
I lug the crate into the teaching lab and toss it on the counter next to the window. Downstairs sounds like a stampede. I shove open the pane and lean out. It's a long ways down.