by Ryan Dalton
Winter glanced at her. “Maybe?”
Valentine shrugged. “It’s not an exact science, and the place is locked down.” She gestured to the gate’s chain and thick padlock.
John examined the top of the ten-foot-tall fence. “Could we climb it?”
“Wait, I got some’n better.” Fred strolled to the back of his SUV and popped open the hatch. Malcolm heard clinking metal, and Fred re-emerged with a set of shiny red bolt cutters.
Winter rolled her eyes. “You would be carrying those around.”
Fred offered the handles to Malcolm. “Here, I can’t cut nothin’ with these casts.”
Malcolm accepted it out of reflex, then stood staring at it. His insides recoiled. “Um, breaking and entering seems like a big step.”
Fred inclined his head toward the warehouse. “This place look like anyone cares?”
He did have a point, Malcolm admitted. They’d probably be the first people to enter the building in a decade. So having a look around shouldn’t be a big deal. Right? Still, he stood there.
“Oh, just do it,” Winter said. “We can all find out what juvie’s like.”
Fred shook his head. “Always so dramatic.” He reached out for the cutters. “Here, I can try if you ain’t into it.”
“No.” Malcolm clutched the handles tighter. “No, we’re mostly here because of me. It’s my responsibility.” He faced the padlock and steeled himself.
The cutters were new and sharp, the lock old and brittle—one swift clamp and it crumbled away. A wave of anxious excitement overcame Malcolm. In the past year, his idea of danger had been finding rare books about the Franco-Prussian War. Now here he was, in uncharted waters. He grinned.
The warehouse sat fifty feet back from the fence. In that open space, the grounds were littered with busted crates and containers, discarded scrap metal, even a few rusted shells of construction machinery. The group picked their way through the debris.
“So, how do we find what we’re looking for?” Malcolm asked Valentine. “Should we walk around the building first?”
“The water tower sits high,” John offered. “Perhaps we could climb it and search from above.”
“Or,” Winter pointed to the bolt cutters. “We could add to our heinous crimes and just bash in the door with—”
The sky exploded with a barrage of lightning.
Halfway to the building they stopped in their tracks. Silvery lances raced from cloud to cloud and thunder shook the air. Malcolm froze in place and someone beside him yelped.
A bolt struck the roof of the warehouse, blasting chunks of debris into the air. The bolt cutters dropped unnoticed from Malcolm’s hands.
“Holy crap!” Winter yelled.
Another strike pounded the roof, turning metal to slag and flinging more jagged projectiles. They stumbled back again, too shocked to flee as the night sky glowed like daylight, sizzling with a web of electricity. A third bolt hammered the roof, then a fourth. The structure began to sag under the assault.
“We should never have come here,” John said. He grabbed Valentine and whirled back toward the fence. “We’ve got to go now. Come on, before this gets worse!”
Malcolm shook to his senses and yanked Winter and Fred’s shoulders, turning them to follow John’s retreat. The group broke into a run and aimed for the gate.
“Look at that!” Fred pointed ahead of them.
Malcolm’s heart froze in his chest. Lightning formed a perfect ring in the valley beneath them, cutting right through the center of Emmett’s Bluff. The storm stretched for miles, bombarding town and country with its fury.
The fence stood just a few yards away. Malcolm aimed for the gate, planning to open it for his friends and follow them through.
A rumble rose from beneath their feet, violently rattling the chain links. The ground bucked and shuddered, and Malcolm lost his footing. He tumbled to the ground and rolled to a stop near the fence. With a groan, he clutched the ribs that hadn’t fully healed while the others sprawled on the grass around him.
“Feels like the whole mountain’s coming down!” Winter yelled.
John grabbed Fred’s shoulder. “Can you drive us out of here?”
“Are you nuts? You want to drive during an earthquake?”
“We can’t just wait here!” Valentine shouted.
“We’ve got to go!” Malcolm agreed. “Give me your keys and—”
A screech split the air like ripping metal and crushing stone, as if Earth itself cried out in agony. The warehouse windows exploded out, hurling hot darts of glass. A beam of blue-white energy as wide as a car shot from the ground, lanced through the half-collapsed roof, and stabbed into the sky like a blade of light.
Malcolm stared at the unnatural sight, trying and failing to make sense of it. Winter and Fred hugged each other in terror. Valentine and John did the same, with John covering his ears and yelling something that was lost in the wind.
Malcolm lurched to his feet and snatched the keys from Fred. Someone had to protect them, and no one else was moving. It was up to him now. He charged toward the gate, intent on ramming the SUV through it and picking them up.
The tremors worsened. Malcolm stumbled over the undulating ground and fell to his knees against the chain links. The lightning intensified, searing the air with crackling static electricity.
Behind him, the giant beam began to pulsate, and waves of pressure jumped through the air like a rising tide. His hairs stood on end, and every inch of skin puckered into goose bumps. Malcolm couldn’t resist it—he had to see. Bracing against the fence, he turned to look back.
The beam was spinning, and it was expanding. Like a giant drill bit, it twisted and writhed and tore at earth and sky. Wider and wider it expanded, vaporizing anything in its path until it had grown to a twenty-foot wide firestorm.
Malcolm felt an invisible force pulling him toward the beam. The others must have felt it, too—in a panic, they scrambled to the fence and latched on. He stared in horror as hulking chunks of the building tore loose and spun in the air, orbiting the beam like a tornado, then plunged into its glowing heart and vaporized. The loose debris and machinery in the yard went airborne next and joined the swirling maelstrom.
The pull grew stronger, like a predator tearing at him. Malcolm clutched the fence tighter and metal links dug into his hands, drawing lines of blood.
“Don’t. Let. Go!” he yelled, praying they could hear him.
They couldn’t make it to the car now, and they couldn’t run. Only one way out remained. Releasing the fence with one hand, he reached into his pocket and withdrew the watch. He would transport them somewhere safe.
The ground bucked underneath them. Malcolm stumbled dizzily, his grip slackening for an instant, and the beam’s pull ripped the watch from his hand. It shot into the air like a bullet and plunged into the angry light.
Malcolm’s heart broke to pieces and dropped into his stomach. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry and curl into a ball and wish this all away. Their one advantage was gone, and now they were trapped!
A sound of groaning metal reached his ears. Their stretch of chain-link fence bent and twisted, then ripped from its anchor poles with a jolt. It hurtled through the air toward the giant beam with Malcolm and his screaming friends attached.
Halfway across the yard, Fred’s bandaged hands slipped from the chain links and he spun apart from the fence. Winter reached for her friend and lost her grip as well. They skidded along the grass and smacked into the warehouse wall with a metallic clang. Malcolm hoped that what was left of the wall would shield them from the beam.
The fence caught on a corner of twisted steel protruding from the warehouse, and with the sudden stop they flopped down onto the battered roof. Rattling, the fence strained against its bonds as if eager to plunge into the burning light.
Panic forba
de Malcolm from letting go. He swallowed hard and mustered his courage, knowing this might be his last chance. One by one, the tangled chain links were breaking under the strain.
Valentine clung to the fence, and to John, with equal ferocity. He wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders. His glasses had long since fallen into the beam. He stared up at Malcolm with determined eyes and pointed, once at Valentine and once over the edge.
It seemed they had the same thought. With a nod, Malcolm silently agreed—family came first. He inched closer to Valentine, reached out and wrapped his arms around her waist. She looked up at him with questioning eyes.
John let go and Malcolm rolled away with his sister clutched tightly to his body. She screamed and stretched a hand back toward John. Ignoring her cries, Malcolm rolled along the rippling fence to the precipice of the roof, swung Valentine over the edge and released his grip. He clung to the fence again before the beam could suck him away.
Red hair flailed as Valentine dropped twelve feet to the ground and smacked into the grass. Malcolm winced as she curled into a ball and cried out. Her ribs may have bruised, or even broken, but hopefully the warehouse wall would shield her.
Malcolm slid back toward John. A precious few chain links still clung to the roof, stretched nearly to breaking. John waved him away.
“Go back!”
Malcolm ignored him and offered a hand. John shook his head and pointed downward. Malcolm shook his head back and offered the hand again.
John pointed more forcefully. This time Malcolm looked, and his face fell. A section of fence had tangled around John’s leg and dug into his flesh.
John saw the recognition in Malcolm’s eyes. He nodded, shook his leg to show it was truly stuck, and pointed back to the ledge. The message was clear. I’m lost. Get out while you can.
That wouldn’t do. No way. Shouting in wordless fury, Malcolm tore at the bonds trapping John’s leg. The strong metal links resisted, yet he kept attacking them.
John helped pry at the fence, then yelled into his ear, “She can’t lose us both!”
“She’s not losing anyone!” Malcolm snarled. “Now, pull!”
Overhead, metal screeched and ripped again. Malcolm gasped as the water tower broke from its base and spun around the beam. Its shattered legs swept through the air, bursting through other floating debris.
The tower’s bulbous top swung low and bashed into the warehouse roof. Still it kept spinning around the fiery lance, tossing up chunks of brick and steel as it smashed through what little of the building remained.
It swung right toward them.
Malcolm’s teeth chattered with the force of every impact. Struggling to quell his panic, he pried harder at the links holding John.
“Pull the whole fence over the edge!” John shouted.
“I tried before. It’s too heavy!”
“Then go! Help your sister.”
“I’m not leaving you! Just keep trying!”
The water tower’s leg swept underneath them and smashed through the last supports anchoring the roof to the ground. The fence shook free of its bonds and surged upward, spinning around the giant beam, carrying Malcolm and John with it.
A dreamlike feeling overcame Malcolm. While his insides panicked and struggled to survive, his outer self felt almost calm, lulled by the wind in his hair and the sensation of flight. They swirled closer to the deadly beam, like the last orbit of a doomed planet.
On their last spin, Malcolm gazed out across the valley to drink it in one last time. His stomach soured at the sight. Across Emmett’s Bluff, eleven more identical beams pierced the sky. He could see their fire from miles away, forming a perfect circle—like the points of a clock. Valentine had been right.
In the center of the storm, on a patch of land that should be dark, one tiny spot lit up like the sun. Four blazing beams emitted from it, pointing in opposite directions. In his broken heart, Malcolm knew they came from a house with no doors. Right then, the truth was clear. Whatever the scientist had been planning, he had just won.
They spun back inward, turning away from the view of Emmett’s Bluff’s demise. The pull on them tightened, and they plunged toward the relentless beam’s white-hot center. Light filled Malcolm’s vision, and he closed his eyes.
His clothes began to sizzle.
Chapter 16
The light and terrible noise disappeared. The dark of night flooded back in. Trembling, Valentine forced herself to her feet and clutched her aching side.
“Oh my God, did you see what happened?” Winter called. She and Fred limped toward Valentine, leaning on each other.
Valentine shook her head. “Almost blacked out when I hit the ground. My head’s still spinning.”
“That thing picked them up,” Fred said. “John and Mal—it took ‘em into the air.”
Sinking dread slammed into Valentine. No. “Mal! John!” She shouted over the half-collapsed wall.
Nothing.
“Maaaal!”
She tugged on the door handle. Locked. She searched for an opening in the sagging steel wall, her insides quaking. What if they needed help? Marching to the door again, she kicked with all the strength she could muster. The rusted frame tore loose, and the door buckled inward with a metallic screech.
“Come on,” she commanded.
The warehouse roof was completely gone, and except for a few support columns, the inner structure had disappeared, too. Even the concrete floors had been ripped away, leaving the soil underneath churned up like a giant child’s sandbox.
Valentine scrambled over hills of dirt. “Mal! John!”
A faint scraping sound reached her ears. Then, just barely, a strained voice. “Here. Over here!”
Valentine’s heart leapt. Climbing over the last hill, she found the heart of the carnage. A round crater had been blasted into the scorched earth, big enough to swallow a bus. The chain link fence lay at the crater’s edge, one end tangled around a twisted support beam, the other end wrapped around John’s leg. He sprawled out toward the crater, gritting his teeth.
Malcolm hung over the crater’s edge, dangling above the black pit. He clung to John’s arms, straining to lift himself out. With every motion, more dirt broke away from the edge and he sank deeper into the crater.
Valentine broke into a sprint. Skidding to her knees next to them, she reached over the side and gripped Malcolm’s belt. Winter and Fred arrived to help, and inch by inch they lifted him onto solid ground. He flopped onto his stomach and hugged the dirt.
Exhausted, Valentine slumped onto her back and allowed relief to flood her body. They had survived. Barely.
“We thought you were dead,” Winter gasped.
“Me, too. Beam stopped right before we hit it.” Malcolm gripped Valentine’s hand. “Thank you.”
She squeezed his fingers. “Don’t you two ever do that again.”
“No promises.” He squeezed back. “Family protects each other.”
Rolling onto her hands and knees, Valentine crawled to John and examined his leg. “Are you okay?”
He nodded, but stayed silent. The others joined her in prying at the links digging into his leg. He winced and groaned as the last of the metal pulled from his flesh. Valentine tore a strip from her ripped shirt and pressed it around the puncture wounds.
“These need to be cleaned and wrapped. Have you had a tetanus shot?” she asked. He shrugged mechanically and looked away. “How’s everyone else?”
“Bruises and cuts.” Winter hugged herself. “And my ear’s killing me.”
“Cracked one of my casts.” Fred held up one arm and a chunk of fiberglass flopped loose.
“Dirt gave us a soft landing, fortunately,” Malcolm said. “How are you?”
“My ribs are pretty bruised,” Valentine replied, her eyes fixed on John. She stepped closer to her . . . boy
friend? She supposed he was now. “John?”
He stared at the ground. Valentine knew they were all shaken, but John had always been so steady. Now he seemed switched off.
Malcolm pulled out his phone. “Dad’s calling. Probably wants to make sure we’re not dead.” He considered, then put it away. “I’m not ready to talk to anyone yet.”
The rest of them got their own phone calls, none of which they answered. What could they say? John made no move for his pocket, and Valentine remembered his aversion to technology.
Malcolm took her gently by the arm. “Come on. We should get out—” He cut off, his head whipping skyward.
Just then, a whistling sound reached Valentine’s ears. She stared up at the night sky, but nothing appeared against the blackness. The whistling grew louder, drawing closer each second, and instinctively she backed away to search for cover.
Winter grabbed her ear and grimaced. “Don’t tell me another one’s coming.”
A glint of metal flashed and something struck the ground ten yards ahead, casting up a plume of dirt. They jumped back in alarm, Valentine holding her breath in expectation of an explosion or something equally terrible. After a tense moment, Malcolm moved toward the hole that the—whatever it was—had created in the ground.
“Hey, man,” Fred shifted uneasily. “Why don’t we just leave it?”
Malcolm shook his head and kept moving. Alone, and after he’d just stared death in the face. Gathering what remained of her courage, Valentine moved to catch up.
They came to a stop together over the tiny crater. Valentine peered inside and her mouth fell open.
“No. Way.”
Malcolm reached down and the brown earth crumbled away to reveal a dusty silver watch. Lifting it by its chain, he wiped off the grime and held it in the air for all to see.
“I saw this hit the beam. How could it survive that?”
Valentine examined it in awe. “Maybe because it came from the same place?”