The Burning City (34 page)

Her gun lay under the table, too far away to reach. She scrabbled for the nearest thing—the screwdriver in the man’s hand.

Occam swooped down on her. She screamed again, trying to scramble away. He landed on top of her and gripped her throat. His eyes blazed, blood running from his lips.

“I did all of this for you!” He tightened his fingers and she choked. “I risked myself and killed for you. I moved heaven and earth for you, gave you everything you wanted. And now you’re useless to me. Useless! You’re both going to pay for this betrayal.” He swung the blade up in his other hand.

She reacted out of pure instinct, bringing her arm up, the handle of the screwdriver clutched tight. She slammed the length of it up into his chest.

The force was more than she imagined herself capable of, fueled by sheer terror and survival instinct. Something snapped in her wrist as she drove the screwdriver between his ribs. First she felt resistance, and then a sickening give as it skewered his heart.

He pitched forward with a heaving gasp. The razor fell out of his hand. Pain shot up June’s arm, followed by swift numbness. She let go of the screwdriver and scrambled out from underneath him.

“June!” Sam was there, pulling her up.

They hurried away from him, Sam holding on to her.

Occam struggled to his feet, his hand around the handle of the screwdriver. The tool was embedded all the way to the hilt in his chest, a foot of cold, unforgiving metal.

She gripped her wrist. Sam drew her back farther as Occam lurched toward them.

Occam wheezed, his shoulders hunched, teeth gritted. He slammed his other hand on the table as he wobbled. He focused on her with burning eyes.

Sam gathered her back against him. She clamped her good hand over her mouth, staring at Occam. She didn’t move. She didn’t breathe.

Occam leaned heavily against the table, his knees buckling. He’d gone pale. Saliva and blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

Then his pained, furious gaze softened. His face sagged. He smiled, slow and cruel.

“This is the end,” he said.

He grabbed the detonator off the table and smashed the red button.

June took her hand off her mouth and screamed, lurching in Sam’s arms.

In the distance, a deep rumbling started, like the thunder of an approaching storm. The floor vibrated. The lights flickered.

“Oh my God.” June wheeled around, looking at the ceiling. Nothing happened, though. The charges above them weren’t attached.

But some of them were.

Occam stumbled and collapsed, the detonator in one hand and the other still around the screwdriver.

Another rumble sounded from deep in the building and everything around them shook.

“What are we gonna do?” June asked.

Sam grabbed her arm. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

They dashed through the electrical room and into the hallway. They ran toward the stairwell they’d come up, moving on pure instinct. Where could they go in a collapsing building?

“We have to get Anthony on the way down.” June was huffing for breath as they entered the stairwell. “If he’s not dead.”

“We can’t waste time!”

“We can’t just leave him here!” She gripped Sam’s arms and gritted her teeth as her wrist throbbed. “We got him into this situation. We have to get him out of here if we can.”

“Fine. Come on.”

They rushed down the stairs. The stairwell creaked ominously. June functioned in a frantic bubble of terror, one that sharpened her senses and focused her mind. If they could get downstairs in an elevator before the electric failed, they might have a chance. Of course, that was if there was even a downstairs left to get to. The fact that the whole building hadn’t gone down already told her not all the charges were armed—just enough to put it on the precarious brink of collapse, buckling under its own weight as the foundation crumbled.

They reached the floor with Robbie’s office and ran toward it. The lights continued to flicker. Glass shattered somewhere.

They burst into Robbie’s office. A puddle of blood lay in the middle of the floor, a trail leading from it to the doors. The spot where Occam had bled Robbie.

Anthony lay on the couch, curled up on his side, arms over his head. June ran to him and gripped his shoulder. He wasn’t bleeding. He was shivering.

“Anthony.” She rolled him onto his back. “Can you hear me?”

He shuddered, his eyes flashing rapidly. He drew heaving breaths.

“He’s overloading.” Sam nudged her out of the way and started gathering him up. “We can’t drag him between us. It’ll take too long.”

June backed up to give him space. The walls vibrated. Plaster dusted down from the ceiling. She looked around wildly as Sam heaved Anthony up and across his shoulders in a fireman carry.

She froze. Muse stood in front of the double doors again. She stared blankly at June.

“Go up,” Muse said.

June stared at her. The building creaked.

“Answer your phone,” Muse said.

June snapped out of her stupor. She patted her pocket and fumbled her phone out. The screen was blank and she had no missed calls. She turned the ringer on and jammed it back into her pocket.

“Come on!” Sam hurried toward the doors. Muse vanished.

June rushed after him. As they entered the hallway, she grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the stairwell. “We have to go back up.”

“What?”

“We have to go up. Muse says so.”

“We can’t go up. We have to get out of here! If this building comes down, we can’t be on top of it.”

“If it comes down, we can’t be under it, either.” She pushed into the stairwell and started up the stairs. “I’ve learned to listen to ghosts.”

“June!” He followed her.

She dashed up each flight of stairs, adrenaline fueling her, though her body was exhausted. Eventually it would give up—puke, pass out, die, or all three. She didn’t know how much fuel she had left. Her chest burned with each breath, her side locked in a tight cramp.

Two levels above the electrical room, a sharp trill made her jump. She stopped on a landing, panting, and pulled out her phone.

Trina was calling.

June answered. “Trina!”

“June, are you still inside the building?” A frantic voice, not Trina’s. Micha.

“Yes.” She looked up the next flight of stairs.

Sam slumped against the wall, a few steps below. His face glistened with sweat. Anthony dangled from his shoulders, twitching.

“Please tell me you’re on one of the upper floors,” Micha said.

“Yes.” She gripped the railing as her head swam. The lights flickered. “We’re going up.”

“Get to the roof. Keep going.”

“How do we get to the roof?” She looked back at Sam.

Micha spoke fast. “There’s a service elevator on the fiftieth floor. Take it all the way to the top; there’s a button that says HP. When the elevator opens, you’ll be in a hallway. Go all the way to the end and open the door.”

“What if the electric goes out, we’ll be stuck in the elevator. It keeps flickering!”

“Even if it does, the elevators are on backup generators. Go! Go!”

She threw the phone down and dashed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Sam quickly followed. At the next landing, the number forty-eight was painted on the exit door. Two more floors.

She dug deep for the last of her energy. They were almost there—though she had no idea where “there” was or what would be waiting. She tried to keep faith in Muse.

Sam lagged behind, and when she reached the door for the fiftieth floor, she had to wait for him. He caught up, panting and staggering. She opened the door and grabbed his arm, trying to support him.

They were in a hallway. Not far away was an elevator. She led him to it and hit the button to go up.

The building groaned and wheezed, as though it were alive and suffering. Dust fell from the ceiling. Crashing and clanking sounded all around them. The lights dimmed. All of it combined was terrifying.

Thankfully, the elevator opened quickly. They stumbled inside and June prayed it was the right one. The HP button shone like a beacon, and she pounded on it.

The doors slid shut. They ascended.

“Where are we going?” Sam panted.

“The roof.” She stared at the numbers above the door. They had to go up five levels.

“What’s on the roof?”

Every inch of her trembled. This was the last horrifying elevator ride she would ever take in this place, for better or worse. “I don’t know.”

The three of them would not die like this. Four. She pressed her good hand to her stomach.

The doors opened to a long windowless hallway, a door at the other end. She slipped out of the elevator and motioned to Sam. “Come on. This is how we get out on the roof, I think.”

They hurried down the hallway, their footsteps clattering and echoing. The door loomed ahead—the door to freedom? To salvation? June dragged her hand over the smooth painted wall as they ran to keep herself steady. She was on the verge of collapse.

About a hundred feet from the door, everything went black.

The darkness was startling and made her vertigo worsen. She stumbled but didn’t stop. The wall shook.

“Keep going!” she yelled.

She was running full tilt and slammed hard into the door, her breath knocked out of her with a painful whoomp. The door burst open and she stumbled out into the humid night air.

Her head spun and her vision blurred. She stayed on her feet, rubbing her eyes. She lowered her hands and blinked, trying to figure out where they were.

Ventilation shafts rose around them. The faint sound of screaming sirens came from below. The acrid scent of smoke filled the air. Clouds of it rose into the sky, drifting up the sides of the building.

Another sound came from above, a rhythmic chopping sound. June looked up.

A helicopter hovered over the building. A spotlight on the bottom of it raked across the roof.

June lifted her arms and waved frantically. If it was fire rescue and they were about to be saved, or the police and they were about to go to prison for a long time, she didn’t care. They weren’t going to die in an explosion, at least.

The light passed over them, and she winced at the blinding brightness. She dropped her head and kept waving. The light stayed on them.

Then it blinked off and the helicopter began to descend.

Across the roof was a helipad—that’s what the HP stood for. Probably to bring in supplies, patients, dignitaries, and of course, unethical scientists.

“Come on!” June motioned to Sam. They hurried toward the pad.

As the helicopter lowered, the air kicked up around them, buffeting her and tossing her hair around her face. She squinted at the helicopter, pressing against the onslaught. When it lowered enough she could see the side door was open, her heart nearly stopped.

Two people leaned out, a man and a woman.

Trina and Micha.

June lifted her arms again, raising her hands to the sky, and wept.

As the helicopter settled on the pad, the wind and noise from the propellers were overwhelming, but they certainly weren’t the worst thing they’d faced that night, and she joyfully walked forward. Micha leaned out, his arm extended to her.

Getting up into the helicopter was a task, especially for someone as short as she was. Micha grabbed her arms. She shrieked in agony as her wrist was pulled. He hauled her up and in. She collapsed against him.

Sam heaved Anthony in first. “If this building goes down,” he yelled, “the shockwave is gonna suck this copter down too!”

“Then get in!” Trina reached for him.

He gripped her hands and boosted himself in. He collapsed next to June. Micha pulled June away from the door, and Trina closed it.

In the cockpit, June didn’t recognize the pilot, but Aaron sat on the other side, looking back at them.

Sam lifted his head and blinked at him. “I didn’t know you had a helicopter.”

“It’s a rental,” Aaron snarled. “And you’re fucking reimbursing me for it!”

As they rose away from the roof, June looked out the window in the door. Sam sat up. Arms wrapped around her, multiple people holding her protectively.

The scene below opened up in horrifying detail.

The lower portion of the building was on fire. Flames licked up the sides, emitting thick plumes of black smoke. Debris was scattered around the building and filled the courtyard. People were running down the streets around the Institute. Chaos.

Suddenly, a roar rose over the sound of the helicopter blades. Half the building crumbled, cascading down in a shower of debris and white smoke. The collapse happened surreally fast, expanding the rumble pile around the building. June gripped one of the arms across her chest, heedless of her wrist.

“Jesus Christ,” Aaron said from the front.

The sight was boggling, so much fire, so much smoke, the standing half of the building jutting out of the flames like a broken ruin. The rest of the city spread out around it, calm and glittering.

Sam sat on her right, Micha on her left. Both of them held her. They looked at each other and then at her. She didn’t know what she felt. Horror? Relief? Joy? Her emotions had shut down at the enormity of it all. She looked down. She had gripped Micha’s arm. Every inch of her body ached and her muscles were useless, but strong arms held her up.

She looked back at the broken building dwindling in the distance, orange with fire, black with smoke.

“This is the end,” she whispered.

When they landed, June had no idea where they were—just an airfield, a small one, with a domed hangar near the runway. As they settled gently on the ground, she made out three figures standing next to the runway. She squinted, her mind barely functioning, let alone her senses. The three rushed toward the helicopter, and she caught a flash of brilliant red. Cindy, Jason, and Diego.

The motor wound down and the blades slowed. The quiet that poured in made it obvious her ears were ringing. Trina opened the door.

Cindy was sobbing. “Oh my God. Oh my God!” She opened her arms as Sam jumped out. He wobbled, even more so as she slammed into him and wrapped her arms around him.