Shatterproof (11 page)

“It’s a dead end,” she said.

“You’re joking,” Nellie said.

“I wish.” Reagan turned and slapped the wall. “It’s solid rock.”

“Shh.” Ted pressed his ear up to the rock. “They’re coming!” he said.

“Stand behind me,” Alistair said to Phoenix.

“There’s fresh air!” Ted had his pale face pointed at the ceiling. “I can feel it! Where’s it coming from?”

They had been so busy looking for breaks in the rock wall in front of them, no one had bothered to check the ceiling. Above them was a narrow shaft with dim light filtering through the opening.

“If I get a good jump I can reach the ladder!” Reagan took a running start and sprang up, just managing to catch the bottom rung with her good arm. She pulled herself through the opening like an Olympic gymnast on a parallel bar, then dropped back to the ground. “There’s a grate. It’s twenty-five feet up, max. Let’s go!”

They boosted Phoenix up first, followed by Alistair, Ted, Natalie, and Fiske.

Reagan cupped her hands to give Nellie a boost to the bottom rung.

“What about you?” Nellie asked.

“I’ll jump,” Reagan said. “But first I’m going to slow our friends down.”

Nellie shook her head. “It’s not safe. Get out of here and let me do the honors. I’m pretty good with a gun.”

“I don’t have to hit anyone,” Reagan insisted. “I’ll fire a few rounds down the tunnel and let the ricochet and noise do the rest. Besides, you can’t jump high enough to reach the bottom rung.”

Reluctantly, Nellie put her foot into Reagan’s cupped hands and grabbed the bottom rung. Her shoulder wound reopened and it felt like someone had splashed it with gasoline and set it on fire. Nellie gritted her teeth and ignored the pain and the warm blood trickling down her side.

Seven deafening gun blasts reverberated through the shaft, followed by a barrage of return fire, almost causing Nellie to lose her grip. “Are you okay?” Nellie shouted down.

“I’m fine,” Reagan replied. “Keep moving.”

Nellie tried to climb higher, but the line above her had come to a complete stop.

“Hurry!” she shouted.

“The grate’s padlocked!” Phoenix shouted back.

Reagan scrambled up behind Nellie like a monkey and handed her the pistol. “There’s one round left. Pass it up and tell Phoenix to make it count and to hurry. The Vespers will be here any second!”

“Have you ever fired a pistol?” Alistair asked Phoenix as he gingerly handed over the gun.

Phoenix gave him a weak smile. “Kind of,” he said. “I was on the film set of
Gangsta Kronikles
with Jonah. They let me shoot a pistol, but it shot blanks.”

“Hurry it up!” Reagan shouted. “They’re almost here!”

Phoenix pointed the pistol at the lock, turned his head away, and pulled the trigger.

Click
.

“Safety!” Reagan shouted. “It’s on the left side by your thumb! Flick it up!”

Phoenix flicked the safety and pulled the trigger again.

Boom!

A piece of shrapnel sliced open Phoenix’s right hand. He instinctively jerked it off the rung, causing him to wobble, and then to start to fall. Alistair’s firm hand smacked into his back, stopping him from falling.

“You’ve got to get the grate open!”

But the grate was heavy, and Phoenix couldn’t lift it. They could all hear the pounding of the guards’ feet now. Natalie gave a frantic look below her, then clambered over the top of Ted to give Phoenix and Alistair a hand. It took several precious seconds before the heavy steel grate finally slapped open. The hostages piled out quickly. As Reagan hoisted herself out of the shaft, bullets whizzed through the opening. She slammed to the ground and rolled away.

“Close,” she said, looking at a smoking rip in her coveralls where a bullet had grazed her.

They were in a small clearing surrounded by giant fir trees. It was sweltering hot, but they didn’t care. For the first time in weeks, they filled their lungs with fresh air.

“Which way?” Natalie asked.

“That way.” Reagan pointed. “Downhill. You’re bound to run into a road or a river.”

“What do you mean by
you’re
?” Nellie asked, giving Reagan a suspicious look.

“No offense to any of you, but you’re not going to make very good time,” Reagan said. “Someone has to hang here and keep these gophers in their hole. Don’t worry. I’ll catch up with you.”

“You’re out of bullets,” Alistair reminded her.

Reagan picked up a large rock. “Ammo!” She hurtled the rock down the opening and they heard a satisfying grunt of pain.

“I’m staying with you,” Nellie said, then turned to the others. “Go, hurry!”

Fiske took Ted’s arm. “We’ll see you downhill somewhere,” he said, and the group made for the trees, Alistair limping behind him.

Reagan and Nellie were rolling two rather large boulders toward the opening when the dogs attacked them.

Reagan saw the two pit bulls streaking across the clearing first.

“Don’t move!” she shouted to Nellie.

But Nellie had already thrown a stick at the dog heading toward her. Unfortunately, the only thing the pit bull was interested in fetching was Nellie. It knocked her down and bit viciously into her leg.

Several heavily armed guards wearing balaclavas came running out of the woods. One of the guards called the dog off before turning on Reagan.

“Stay where you are!” Reagan pointed the pistol at them.

The guards only laughed.

“I mean it!” Reagan said.

“I can count,” the guard said. “You’re on empty.” He raised his rifle.

Reagan dropped the pistol and rushed over to Nellie.

“How bad is it?” a shaken Nellie asked.

The dog had bitten her face as well as her leg.

“We need a doctor!” Reagan shouted.

“You’re not going to get one,” the guard said. “Where are the others?”

“They went back down the shaft,” Reagan lied.

He shook his head before turning to his colleagues. “Send the dogs out. They’ll find them.”

The remaining hostages had only gone a mile and a half, most of it downhill, and Alistair was already exhausted.

“I hear water,” Ted said.

“How far?” Fiske asked.

“It’s close.”

“It’s right here!” Natalie said.

They joined her at the edge of a deep precipice. Two hundred feet below was a roaring river.

“It looks as if there’s a trail all the way to the bottom,” Natalie said. “But it’s narrow and slippery. We should wait for Reagan and Nellie before we attempt it.”

Fiske considered it, but only for a second. “No. We better go.”

He took a step out and started down the cliff.

Reagan and Nellie had been flex-cuffed and pushed into the back of a windowless panel truck.

Nellie swallowed. “Is it really bad?” Her white and black hair was matted to her head with sweat and blood.

Reagan examined her in the dim light. “Your face is a little swollen, but I don’t think it’s serious. I’m more concerned about your leg. We need to get the wounds cleaned up so they don’t get infected.”

“I shouldn’t have thrown the stick,” Nellie said.

“It’s pretty hard not to when a vicious animal is charging you. I learned about it in survival school. Predators expect their prey to run away or defend themselves. When that doesn’t happen it throws a wrench into their circuitry — most of the time.”

“Listen!” Nellie interrupted.

One of the guards was talking on a two-way radio outside the door, but he must have had an earphone in because they could only hear his side of the conversation.

“Yes, sir . . . no . . . We have two in custody. . . . Nellie and the Holt girl . . . If that’s how you want to handle it . . . Let me look at a map. . . . I know the location. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

The truck rumbled to life. They were on the move.

Phoenix had no idea how he had gotten to the front of the line, but it was too late to change positions now. The slippery steep path down to the river was only wide enough for one person. Alistair was about twenty feet behind him, holding on to roots sticking out from the dirt bank to keep himself steady. Fiske was next, followed by Ted and Natalie. Of all of them, Ted seemed to be doing the best at negotiating the treacherous descent. Phoenix could only guess it was because he was used to moving carefully and feeling his way. He waited for Alistair to catch up.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Alistair answered through clenched teeth. He was normally as neat as a pin, even in captivity, but his coverall was now soaked through with sweat and spattered with dirt. “I just have to move slowly, and I can’t look down. I’m a little acrophobic.”

Phoenix risked a glance at the boiling river a hundred feet below and his stomach lurched. He grabbed on to one of the roots, wondering if he suffered from fear of heights, too.

Or maybe it’s the fact that I can’t swim. Not that anyone could swim in those rapids.

“How’s your hand?” Alistair asked, pushing on despite his obvious pain.

“It’s okay,” Phoenix said, which wasn’t true. It was swollen, painful, and useless. He could only use his left hand to anchor himself in place and his heart squeezed each time he had to let go and take another step.

“Any sign of Reagan and Nellie?” Alistair asked the group behind him.

“No,” a weary-looking Natalie replied.

Phoenix was about to volunteer to go look for them when the ground lurched beneath him. The wet dirt he was standing on seemed to quiver, then peel away from the path. Phoenix lunged for the side of the cliff, but his legs windmilled under him. It was too late. His world shifted into terrifying slow motion as he began to plunge into the rapids far below.

“Nooo!” Alistair leaped forward, falling hard on his bad knee, but all he could grab was Phoenix’s injured hand.

Phoenix could hear the others screaming, but he couldn’t see them. He was dangling over the river with the gray face of Alistair Oh looming above him. He frantically scrambled for a foothold, or something to grab on to with his good hand. But there was nothing beneath him but air. The pain from his injured hand was excruciating, and the blood made it slippery. He could feel Alistair’s grip starting to fail.

“Hang on!” Alistair shouted. “I have you!”