by Spencer Baum
I went to campus, parked in the north lot, walked past the library, past Cameron Hall, past the Humanities building, past a graffiti-laced concrete wall known as “The Expression Center.” I turned between Sedillo Hall and the McCallister Center for Fine Arts. It was at this point that I saw the protesters.
The Festival of Ideas, Barbara Lomax, the Blue Brigade. I had been disconnected from all of it until I saw those protestors, and remembered that, once, in another life, I had helped to organize a lecture series featuring the controversial Senator from Oregon.
Come with me now, I’m going to paint a picture for you of the crucial moments exactly as they happened. Still walking across campus, I’m veering right, away from Sedillo Hall, where Barbara Lomax is inside speaking at that very moment. I’m keeping my head down. If Seth is in that crowd of protestors, I don’t want him to see me. The protestors are chanting: “What do we want? JUS-TICE! When do we want it? NOW!”
I enter McCallister Hall through the door on the north side. Now I’m walking down the stairs towards the basement level. Now I’m moving through corridors in the basement, alone, listening to the sound of my own feet. Now I’m approaching my locker. It’s 10:29 but Sunny isn’t there yet.
I’m at my locker, waiting for Sunny. I notice that the door to the band hall is open. Not wide open, mind you, not with both the double doors propped to invite everyone inside for rehearsal. Just one door someone had opened halfway and set in place with its rubber foot.
I go to the door and stick my head through. On the other side, I find an empty band hall. The lights are on, but no one’s home.
“Hello?” I say.
My voice falls flat in the empty room, swallowed by the acoustic tiles on the walls and ceiling.
I’m a music major and a section leader. The band hall is a second home to me. I know when it’s supposed to be open and when it isn’t. I think about lifting the rubber foot and pulling the door closed, I really do.
But now I hear something. A ruckus from outside that’s so loud it’s traveled all the way down here to the basement of McCallister Hall. Yelling and…gunshots? Did I hear gunshots?
I step out of the band hall and the ruckus is more intense. Footsteps. It’s all happening too fast, and…
A runner in a blue and white striped polo shirt, just like mine, comes flying around the corner. She’s wearing a black ski mask when she appears but now she’s taking it off as she runs.
“Sunny?” I say.
Still running, sprinting, down the corridor, Sunny tosses the ski mask aside. It’s one of two objects she throws to the floor with her gloved hands.
The second object, a black hunk of metal, startles me when it hits the floor and clatters across the linoleum.
“Sunny?” I say. “What the hell…”
She slows down for half a step, enough to look me in the eye, and she yells, “Stay there!”
“What? Stay here?”
Sunny runs past me, into the open band hall. She starts to kick up the rubber foot that props open the door. I start to come after her, but she yells at me with such volume it startles me, and I stop.
“Jenna! Stay there!”
Her voice is that of a mother yelling at a child not to run into the street. It pushes me back. I’m still backing away as she slams the door shut behind her.
And locks it.
I can tell you with 99% certainty what her escape path was. There’s an equipment room at the back of the band hall. It’s for percussion and sousaphones. There’s a door at the back of the equipment room that leads to the south corridors, and a staircase in the south corridors that leads to a service entrance. It would be so easy to put a car at that service entrance. You’d be turning east on University Avenue before the police had any idea what was going on.
And if they already had a suspect in custody, they wouldn’t even bother to look.
I remember the empty feeling in my legs as I looked at the now-locked door to the band hall. I remember my mind already starting to piece together the shards of information available to it. She was wearing a pep band shirt and a ski mask. Barbara Lomax was giving a lecture on campus. She had tossed aside a hunk of black metal, one that, in my mind, was already starting to look like a gun.
A new set of footsteps approaching from down the hall. Should I run away? Should I pick up the gun? Should I stay put?
Not knowing what to do, I do nothing. And so it goes that when Officer Tafoya rounds the corner for his moment of glory, he finds me standing in place, barely beginning to comprehend what’s going down around me.
Officer Tafoya aims his pistol at my face and shouts, “Freeze! Put your hands up!”
I do as he says, and my life, as I know it, is over.
CHAPTER 79
The front desk clerk gave him an envelope. His name was written in purple ink on the envelope’s face.
“Thank you,” said Gabe.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Chancellor?”
“No, that’s all.”
He stepped out of line, his eyes on the envelope. The handwriting had big swirls and playful arcs. There was a sketch of a flower in the top corner.
He thought of Jenna’s memoir, of sections about letters she received from Sunny.
He found a quiet space next to a bank of slot machines and tore open the envelope.
Inside, he found a plastic keycard, and a letter, written in purple ink, addressed to him.
*****
Jenna was close enough to the leaders that she could see them as they stepped onto the straightaway. There were no obstacles ahead of her. Just a wide expanse leading to a single staircase.
The staircase led to Freedom Bridge.
She passed Jurrigan, and as she did, his legs collapsed beneath him. He was done.
She was closing in on Malcolm from behind when a siren sounded on the speakers and flashing lights danced across the arena floor. The crowd screamed in unison. Unable to help herself, she looked over her left shoulder.
Just a glance behind her, half a second’s view—she regretted it as soon as she saw them. Dragon Hawks, the Tetradome’s famous bipedal killing machines. Tall, long-legged beasts that Devlin created in the 1990s when velociraptors were hot. Three Dragon Hawks were on the course now and in pursuit. A small burst of pain in her chest, her lungs reminding her that her body was already beyond its limits. She ignored the pain. If she was going to survive, and the half million spectators in the arena were going to survive with her, she had to keep running.
*****
Dear Mr. Chancellor,
What a marvelous surprise it was to learn about your appearance on The Tammy Flanigan Show last night. I was certain that my old identity was long dead and buried, but with some clever detective work, you dug it up and exposed it for the world on national TV.
Even though the world has been slow to accept your story, I can confirm that everything you said on TV is true. Everything in Jenna’s memoir is true as well…
*****
She passed Malcolm Campbell from behind.
“No!” he yelled. He tried to pick up his pace but he couldn’t. There wasn’t enough energy in his legs to match her speed.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
I’m sorry but I have to. If I don’t make it to the end, everybody dies.
*****
Your timing on this story is impeccable, Mr. Chancellor. Bravo on a job well done!
As I hope has become clear by now, tonight’s Finale is special, and the airing of your story last night, though not a part of my original plan, has a role to play in the history we are making.
People need to know who made tonight happen, and why. After watching video of your appearance on Tammy Flanigan, I’ve decided you are the one to share my story with the world.
You’ve figured out so much of it already…
*****
The final stretch. Solomon in her sights.
“Faster!” Jenna yelled at him. “They’
re coming!”
Solomon turned to look at her. His face was swollen. His eyes were bright red around the irises. He made eye contact with Jenna, and she could see the fear take over. No, Solomon, don’t panic. Just run faster. Just…
It was too late. Solomon’s desire to run faster crashed headlong into the reality of his failing legs. He stumbled, then staggered, dancing on two out of control feet. Jenna tried to take a wide angle but she couldn’t get clear. He collapsed into her body, his legs tangling in hers, the both of them tumbling to the ground.
*****
I’ve left a gift for you at the hotel across the street. Room 423 at the Desert Ridge. The keycard I’ve included with this letter will get you into the room.
My gift is everything an ambitious reporter like you could hope for. The biggest story of your career, or anyone else’s for that matter—bigger than the biggest story you can imagine, and I’m dropping it right in your lap.
But there is a condition. You must go now. You must leave Polaris immediately, rush across the street, and go straight to Room 423 at the Desert Ridge. If you don’t go right away, you will miss out on everything, and trust me, Mr. Chancellor, you don’t want to miss this.
*****
Jenna pushed herself to her feet.
The Dragon Hawks were still coming.
“Get up, Solomon!” she yelled.
Solomon was on the ground, his left leg beneath him in an unnatural position, bent backward at the knee. He screamed in pain.
Jenna took a step in his direction, her innate response. Solomon needed help.
Before her second step, however, she realized the idea was ridiculous. The Hawks were already here. The closest was leaning down as it ran, aiming its sword-like beak at Solomon’s fallen body.
Forcing herself to ignore the sound of Solomon’s screams, Jenna charged ahead.
CHAPTER 80
Gabe looked at the plastic keycard that came in the envelope. He turned it over in his hands, thinking about the strange letter that came with it.
If you don’t go right away, you will miss out on everything.
He was already walking towards the doors. The thought that he was involved in something huge, that he was a part of this, was so tantalizing he could hardly resist its call.
Trust me, Mr. Chancellor, you don’t want to miss this.
Miss what? What did she have planned? What did she leave for him across the street?
Jenna Duvall’s miracle comeback has come to this! Chad Holiday’s voice announced from a dozen televisions all around. She is the last runner left, but isn’t clear of the Dragon Hawks still chasing her!
So much to process. Sparrow, Sunny, Kyle, Jenna…Gabe thought about the scene he found in Kyle’s apartment. A sad, empty place. A cardboard box full of treasures hidden in his fireplace. A bloodstain on the carpet and the arm of the couch.
The right arm of the couch.
The stairway to the Freedom Bridge is in sight! Can Jenna make it there before the Dragon Hawks catch her?
Thoughts swirling in Gabe’s mind faster than he could track them. Nathan Cavanaugh’s voice delivering a speech from the final chapter of a tattered paperback book. An Instagram post about Bart Devlin’s body found in a dumpster. A photograph: Kyle and Seth and Sunny on a balcony overlooking the courtyard of Mary Nolan College.
When it happened, it happened quickly. A fraction of a second. A flickering image of a face in a crowd. A woman with a narrow nose and eyes of the deepest blue.
Gabe stopped moving and turned his head.
Had he just seen her? Had he just walked past Sunny Paderewski?
He scanned the space around him, looking for the face he thought he’d seen. A crowd, such a big crowd! Men in tuxedos, in white leisure suits, in silk shirts…women in cocktail dresses… He struggled to draw the image forward in his mind. The girl with the deep blue eyes—what was she wearing? A black dress. Yes, if indeed he’d seen her she was wearing a black dress. Did he have time to chase down every woman in a black dress?
What would he do if he found her?
She’d promised him something amazing, but only if he hurried out of Polaris and to the hotel across the street.
There is a condition. You must go now.
Why was there a condition? What the hell was going on here?
There wasn’t time to think it through. At this point, he was either going across the street or he wasn’t.
Telling himself he’d come this far, he let go of the idea that he might have seen Sunny, and continued for the exit, stepping out of the casino at Polaris, and into a warm night on the Vegas Strip.
*****
The edges of Jenna’s vision went blurry as she ran. Ahead of her she saw a narrow, steel staircase, the kind people might roll up to the side of an airplane or a cruise ship.
Just make it to the stairs. You can figure out what’s next after you make it to the stairs.
The crowd was wild. A world gone crazy. The lives of a city’s worth of people in her hands, or rather, on her wrist, and none of them knew it.
Her foot touched the metal of the first step. Her thighs screamed in agony. The extra lift required to carry her body up a single step was almost more than she could manage. She did it again. And again. She was running up the stairs now. Her legs couldn’t do it on their own so she grabbed onto the rails on either side and pulled with her arms. Her rib cage ached with each pull. Her wind pipe was burning, swelling…her feet, screaming, her legs sloshing with weakness, two cylinders full of goo and she had to lift them onto one steel step after another. More, Jenna. Keep going, Jenna. You’re the last one left, Jenna.
A loud clang, a rumble, then an earthquake of back and forth movement—had her hands not been grabbing hold of both railings she would have been knocked over the edge. A Dragon Hawk was climbing the stairs behind her.
“Oh God,” she said. “Will they ever stop?”
She tried to go faster but there was nothing left. She’d called upon secret, heretofore unknown reserves of energy multiple times in this race, and every time they’d come through for her. Until now. Now there was nothing left. Now, the thought of trying to move faster made her legs drag. Now, the desires of her mind were not enough to overcome the exhaustion of her body.
She staggered up the stairs. The heavy steps of the Dragon Hawk made the staircase sway like a funhouse floor. The vibration alone overwhelmed her arms. She had no strength to deal with it.
And she fell. Tumbling up the stairs, screaming when the edge of a stair came into contact with her already ailing ribs. This was it, wasn’t it? This was the end.
For all of them.
“No, the cuff,” she moaned, praying somebody would listen. “There’s a bomb!” Her voice was lost in the crowd noise.
She rolled over onto her back, determined to fight whatever was coming for her. A Dragon Hawk was coming up the stairs for her and she would just have to kick it in the face and gouge its eyes out with her thumbs because there was no energy left to run.
She waited. The stairs continued to shake. Where was the monster?
She leaned forward, just enough to get a look below her feet. She saw all three Dragon Hawks, struggling to get up the stairs, and failing. The staircase was too narrow for them. The tread of their talons was too wide.
They can’t reach me. So long as I don’t fall off this staircase, they can’t reach me.
She slid all the way up so her body was seated on a single stair. Here she was, near the end of America’s great race of death, and she was seated on a stair, catching her breath.
God, it felt good to sit.
There was no one left in the race but her. This was a game now about getting across the Finish Line. However long she needed to get oxygen into her muscles—she’d spend the time here, breathing deeply, recovering.
Except…
There was more to this. A voice from deep in her psyche, a memory climbing up from the fold. Chad Holiday, speaking to her in the or
ientation video they made her watch on her first day at the complex.
In the Finale, the last man standing, provided he crosses the Finish Line before the timer runs out, wins the race.
She looked up at the world around her. Bright stadium lights shining down from a seemingly endless stadium wall. A giant screen. She saw an image of herself. Her face sallow and sunken, covered in muck, a gash on her temple. I’m gonna have a scar that’s bigger than Sunny’s, she thought.
But I’m still alive.
At the bottom of the screen was a clock that was counting down.
00:02:11…
00:02:10…
“Shit.”
Two minutes and ten seconds to get out of here. Two minutes and ten seconds to climb these stairs and cross the bridge.
Screaming with pain at the movement, Jenna pulled herself to her feet. She knew she couldn’t run up the stairs. She knew her body wouldn’t allow it.
Just put one foot in front of the other and get going.
The crowd was screaming as she crossed the halfway point of the staircase, chanting her name as she neared the top.
The stairs led to a platform. The platform led to a tunnel. She saw more stadium lights on the other side. She was staggering now, struggling to walk. Hours of running, of deadly challenges, of monsters and drowning and fire. It came down to this. Could she stay on her feet for two more minutes? Could she move forward for two more minutes?
CHAPTER 81
Gabe walked through the parking lot, onto the sidewalk, and towards Las Vegas Boulevard.
Doubts about what he was doing grew heavier with each step.
The too-good-to-be-true doubt was first. Sunny, Sparrow, whoever this was—she was offering him everything he’d always wanted. All he had to do was cross the street and go into the same hotel where she and Nathan once planted a bomb.