Chapter 5 - Wolf at the Gate
The corridor was a nightmare of smoke, sparks, and flashing red emergency lights. The smell of burnt cordite and ozone filled the air as heavy gunfire erupted near the main entrance of the compound.
I carried the twin baby carrier strapped securely to my chest using a heavy tactical harness Clara had thrown over my shoulders. In my right hand, I clutched my mother’s journal; around my neck hung the cold titanium key.
I sprinted down the narrow concrete tunnel marked EVACUATION ROUTE B. Behind me, the sound of automatic rifle fire echoed like thunder, mixed with the sharp thump of flashbang grenades.
Clara and her team are dying back there to give me five minutes, I thought, my chest burning as my holes-riddled sneakers slapped against the wet floor. I can’t waste a single second.
Suddenly, the steel door at the end of the tunnel blew inward with a deafening CRACK.
Dust and concrete splinters rained down as three men in unmarked black tactical gear stepped through the rubble. They wore night-vision goggles and carried suppressed submachine guns.
“Target spotted!” the lead mercenary shouted through his helmet radio. “She’s got the infants! Take the girl alive, execute the babies!”
My blood ran cold. Execute the babies.
I stopped dead in my tracks. Behind me was a dead-end corridor leading to the armory; ahead of me were three trained killers.
“Drop the carrier, kid, and walk toward us with your hands up,” the lead guard ordered, stepping forward and leveling his weapon at my chest. “Don't make this messy.”
My mind raced, flipping through the tactical diagrams I had glimpsed in my mother's journal just minutes ago. Safehouse Alpha — Utility Bay 4: High-pressure methane lines run along the ceiling left of the junction.
I looked up. A thick yellow pipe ran directly over the mercenaries' heads, fitted with a manual emergency pressure-release valve marked with red diagonal stripes.
“I’m just an eleven-year-old orphan,” I sobbed, shrinking back against the wall, making my voice sound as tiny, helpless, and terrified as possible. “Please... don't shoot me... I’ll give you the babies!”
The lead mercenary smirked beneath his visor. “Smart kid. Step forward—”
Instead of stepping forward, I grabbed a heavy iron fire extinguisher mounted on the wall beside me, spun on my heel with all the strength in my body, and slammed the heavy brass cylinder directly into the emergency pressure-release valve above them.
CLANG!
The iron valve sheared off. A roaring jet of supercompressed, freezing-cold liquid nitrogen sprayed directly into the faces of the three mercenaries.
“ARGHHH!” they screamed as the liquid nitrogen vaporized on contact, flash-freezing their visors, blinding them, and filling the narrow hallway with a dense, impenetrable white fog.
They fired blindly into the smoke, bullets ricocheting wildly off the concrete walls—PING! PING! PING!
I ducked low, wrapping my arms tightly around the baby carrier to protect Leo and Maya from stray shrapnel, and darted through the freezing fog, ducking right beneath the lead guard’s legs. I grabbed his sidearm holster as I slid past, pulling a flash-bang grenade from his tactical belt.
I pulled the pin with my teeth—just like I’d seen in movies—and tossed it back over my shoulder into the fog.
“Cover your ears!” I whispered to the babies, slamming my hands over their tiny heads.
BOOM!
A blinding flash of light and a shockwave hit the tunnel, knocking the disoriented mercenaries off their feet and slamming them into the walls.
I didn't wait to see if they were conscious. I scrambled to my feet, kicked open the blast door marked RAIL TRANSPORT, and threw myself inside, slamming the heavy lock lever down just as bullets began hammering against the outside of the steel plate.
I collapsed onto the floor of the automated rail car, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I thought it would burst.
In the carrier, little Maya let out a soft whimper. I reached in with trembling fingers, stroking her tiny cheek.
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“Shh... it’s okay, Maya,” I gasped, tears streaming down my face through the soot and sweat. “Harper’s got you. I promised him I wouldn cut out. I promised.”
The automated rail car shuddered, its electric turbines roaring to life as it launched forward into the pitch-black tunnel at fifty miles an hour, carrying us away from the slaughterhouse into the unknown.
