“A little stunned,” I said, “but all right. It wasn’t close enough to hit me with anything more than the concussion.”
“Those will be amplified in these hallways,” Abraham said. “Calamity, Tia. We’re losing control of this situation.”
“Damn you all,” Prof’s voice said, sounding feral. “I want David out here now. Bring me that gun!”
“I’m coming to help you, lad,” Cody said. “Stay put.”
A sudden thought struck me. If Steelheart and his people really were listening in on our private line, I could use that.
The idea warred with my desire to hunt for Megan. What if she was hurt? She had to be around here somewhere, and there seemed to be a lot more rubble in the hallway now. I needed to see if …
No. I couldn’t afford to be tricked. Maybe that had been Firefight, wearing Megan’s face to distract me.
“Okay,” I said to Cody. “You know the restrooms near the fourth bomb position? I’m going to hide in there until you arrive.”
“Got it,” Cody said.
I dashed away, hoping that Nightwielder, wherever he was, had been disoriented by the blast. I neared the restrooms I’d mentioned to Cody, but I didn’t go into them as I’d said. Instead I found a spot nearby and used my tensor to blast a hole into the ground. This was a place where I’d be relatively well hidden but would also have a good view of the rest of the corridor—restrooms included.
I dug the hole deep, then burrowed down in it as Prof had taught me, using the dust to cover up. Soon I was like a soldier in a foxhole, carefully hidden. I turned my mobile to silent and buried my half rifle just under the surface of the dust, so the light from the flashlight was concealed.
Then I watched the door to that restroom. The corridor fell silent. Lit only by burning scraps.
“Is anyone there?” a voice called into the hallway. “I … I’m hurt.”
I tensed. That was Megan.
It’s a trick. It has to be.
I scanned the dim room. There, on the other side of the hallway, I saw an arm wedged in a mountain of rubble from the blast. Chunks of steel, some fallen girders from above. The arm twitched, and blood ran down the wrist. As I looked closer, I could see her face and torso in the shadows. She looked like she was only now beginning to stir, as if she’d been briefly knocked unconscious by the blast.
She was pinned. She was hurt. I had to move, to go help her! I stirred but then forced myself down.
“Please,” she said. “Please, someone. Help me.”
I didn’t move.
“Oh Calamity. Is that my blood?” She struggled. “I can’t move my legs.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. How were they doing this? I didn’t know what to trust.
Firefight is doing it somehow, I told myself. She’s not real.
I opened my eyes. Nightwielder was emerging from the floor in front of the bathroom. He looked confused, as if he’d been inside looking for me. He shook his head and walked through the corridor, searching about him.
Was that really him, or was it an illusion? Was any of this real? The stadium shook with another blast, but the gunfire outside was dying down. I needed to do something, quickly, or Cody would stumble into Nightwielder.
Nightwielder stopped in the center of the hallway and crossed his arms. His normal calm had been shattered and he looked annoyed. Finally he spoke. “You’re in here somewhere, aren’t you?”
Dared I take the shot? What if he was the illusion? I could get myself killed by the real Nightwielder if I exposed myself. I turned carefully, examining the walls and floor. I saw nothing other than some darkness creeping from the shadows nearby, tendrils moving like hesitant animals seeking food. Testing the air.
If Firefight was really pretending to be Megan, then shooting her would stop the illusions. I’d be left only with the real Nightwielder, wherever he was. But there was a good chance that the fallen Megan was a full illusion. Sparks, the girders could be an illusion. Would a distant blast have really knocked those down?
What if that was Firefight, though, wearing Megan’s face so that if I touched her I’d feel something real? I raised my father’s gun and sighted on her bloodied face. I hesitated, heart pounding in my ears. Surely Nightwielder could hear that pounding. It was all that I could hear. What would I do to get to Steelheart? Shoot Megan?
She’s not real. She can’t be real.
But what if she is?
Heartbeats, like thunder.
My breath, held.
Sweat on my brow.
I made my decision and leaped from the foxhole, bringing up the rifle in my left hand—light shining forward—and the handgun in my right. I let loose with both.
On Nightwielder, not Megan.