by R. D. Brady
“Yeah. Ask Leslie.”
Leslie nodded. “I think Greg’s right—Hank is tracking him.”
Chris stared into Greg’s eyes, and for a moment Greg had a small glimmer of hope. Then Chris nodded, his voice soft. “He’s right.”
Greg’s stomach bottomed out at Chris’s words. He’d hoped that maybe Captain America might have another trick up his sleeve. Swallowing down his fear, he nodded, letting out a breath. “Okay, it’s settled, then. You guys go on and—”
“I’m staying too,” Leslie said.
Greg stared at her. “What are you doing?”
“My job. Which is to protect you.”
“Pretty sure the job description does not involve suicide. Besides, you’re ruining my whole sacrificing-for-the-team thing.”
Leslie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, you’re my responsibility. I already let you get sliced. I should probably stay and make sure nothing else happens to you.” Her tone was light, but Greg could read the seriousness in her eyes. She knew what she was saying. She knew the cost. Greg wanted to make a quip; after all, that was his go-to tactic. But he didn’t have any. He nodded. “Okay.”
Maeve turned to Chris. “We can’t let them—”
Chris’s voice was compassionate but firm. “There is no other way. Our chances are not high to begin with. But if Greg’s got someone on his tail, those chances drop to almost nothing.”
Maeve shook her head. “We can’t let them. I’ll stay, you guys—”
Greg took Maeve’s hand. “And what about Alvie and the triplets? Who will take care of them? Who will convince the military not to shoot them on sight? No, this is the only way. I know you want to save us all, but that’s not in your power. So let me be the hero this time, okay?”
Tears sprang into Maeve’s eyes, and Greg took a deep breath, trying to hold back his own emotions. How come in the movies they all looked so unemotional in these moments? He was barely keeping it together.
Maeve stepped forward. “No, no. We are not doing this. Yes, Hank’s after us. Yes, humans are after us. But we are not giving up.”
Greg shook his head. “Maeve, it’s not safe—”
Maeve glared at him. “Safe? What the hell has been safe since we arrived on this goddamn base? We are not leaving you.”
“How about a compromise?” Leslie asked.
Maeve narrowed her eyes. “Like what?”
“You six go ahead. We’ll follow, but a few minutes behind. If Hank isn’t following us, we’ll head down the tunnels after you.”
“But what about the soldiers?”
Leslie let out a breath. “Maybe we’ll go through a different tunnel entrance. There’s more than one, right?”
Maeve spoke quickly. “Yes. There are three on the other side of the base—Hangars 18, 22, and 26.”
“Okay, then that’s our plan. You guys go first. We’ll follow you if it’s safe,” Leslie said.
“You will follow us, though, won’t you?” Maeve asked.
“Absolutely,” Leslie said.
Maeve knelt down next to Greg and hugged him. “Promise you’ll follow after us. No more talk about sacrificing for the team.”
“You got it,” he said lightly, his throat feeling tight. “Okay, well, you guys get going. We’ve got this.”
Chris looked at Leslie. She nodded back at him. “Like he said, we got this.”
Chris took Maeve’s arm. “Come on.”
Alvie stepped back toward Greg. He leaned in, touching his forehead to Greg’s. A vision of Leslie, terror on her face as he was hurt flashed through his mind. And in that moment he knew that whatever Leslie felt for him, it wasn’t completely professional. That realization was followed by a rush of gratitude that left Greg almost dizzy.
But then another hangar appeared in his mind, Hangar 37, followed by the numbers 31827. It was a hangar Greg had never seen before.
Alvie leaned back and then followed Chris and Maeve down the hall. Greg sat back on his heels, watching them go.
What was that about?
He watched the door close quietly behind them and then turned to Leslie. “We’re not going to be able to follow them, are we?”
Leslie shook her head. “No.”
Chapter Ninety-Seven
Maeve, Chris, Alvie, and the triplets had left the Quonset hut just a few minutes ago. But as Maeve walked, her steps grew increasingly heavy as she pictured Greg’s face. Finally, she stopped. “We need to go back. Greg’s not going to follow us. We need to bring him.”
He and Leslie had agreed to follow behind them in ten minutes. But right now, ten minutes seemed like a lifetime, and Maeve was pretty sure Greg had only agreed to get her to leave.
Chris stopped, placing his hands on her arms. “Maeve, this isn’t a game. This isn’t a story where everyone is alive and well at the end. We have the United States military after us, and who knows what kind of aliens. And we are not guaranteed to get out. That’s the reality. What Greg did, what Leslie did, was increase our odds. But it’s not a slam dunk. Not by a long shot.”
Chris knew they weren’t going to follow. The realization floored her. “How has it come to this?
“I don’t know, Maeve. But it has. Now come on. The lot is right up here.”
Maeve spied the tall chain-link fence that surrounded one of the base’s car lots. Inside the fence, Jeep Renegades and Cherokees and a few Hummers stood in silent formation.
Chris nodded to the edge of the building. “You guys stay here. I’ll grab a car, and when I’m out of the lot you guys hightail it over, okay?”
Maeve nodded, amazed that she still had reserves of fear after everything they’d already experienced. “Be careful.”
“I will. Alvie, anyone around?”
Alvie shook his head. And then Chris was gone, running across the space and slipping into the lot.
Maeve scanned the area, but trusted Alvie’s senses more than her own. In the lot, she saw Chris pull keys from the metal box near the entrance. After looking at the label on the keys, he crouched low and made his way to one of the Renegades. Slipping into the driver’s seat, he started the engine and pulled out of the spot.
“Alvie, let’s go.” She’d started forward when Alvie grabbed her hand. A picture of the pickups flashed through her mind. She whirled around as one of the pickups swung into view at the end of the road.
“Run!” she yelled, pushing Alvie forward. He sprinted toward the Jeep, Snap in his arms, and they were up and into it in a single leap. As Maeve reached the Jeep, Chris reached out for the twins. Maeve handed them over as she got in, taking them from Chris as soon as she had her balance. “Go, go go!”
Chris tore off down the street, and then he turned off the paved surface, cutting across the ground surrounding the runway.
“We’re heading there.” Maeve pointed to the hangar in the middle of the five across the open space as Crackle and Pop crawled into the back.
Chris nodded but didn’t say anything.
Maeve glanced behind her. Alvie was crouched low in the back, the triplets curled up with him. She wanted to say something comforting. But she had no words. She just reached down and squeezed his arm.
Behind them, the pickup followed their path, barreling across the runway. A second pickup appeared farther behind, and Maeve’s pulse went up another notch. The gunman in the passenger seat leaned out and took aim. But he wasn’t close enough for a shot, not yet.
Maeve looked ahead at where the hangar was that led to the old tunnel. And she remembered Chris’s words—we are not guaranteed to get out.
And with two trucks giving chase, she knew that reaching the hangar was only the beginning of a whole new fight.
Chapter Ninety-Eight
Greg sat on the floor, watching the door where the rest of the group had disappeared. Leslie had been rifling around the hangar and had found a first aid kit. Greg swallowed a handful of aspirin and Leslie numbed his wound with some antiseptic. It didn’t erase the pain b
ut it definitely reduced it.
Carefully, Greg got to his feet. “Okay, boss, what’s the plan?”
“Well, let’s start toward the car lot. Who knows? Maybe we’ll actually be able to follow them.”
Greg joined Leslie by the door. She looked up at him. “Ready?”
Greg nodded. “Yup. Let’s go.”
Leslie opened the door slowly, scanning the area. Greg strained to hear anything, but it sounded quiet.
“Let’s go,” Leslie whispered. Greg followed behind her, his leg still aching. With a hurried limp, he followed Leslie into the shadows of the building across from them. It looked like a garage.
Greg started to go around the building when Leslie yanked him back. Greg’s head whipped toward her and she mouthed one word—Hank.
Greg and Leslie turned away from the car lot and hurried down past two more Quonset huts. Greg hadn’t said a word, not wanting to help Hank find them. So far, their change of direction seemed to have gone unnoticed.
But Greg was sure it was only a matter of time before Hank found them. And he couldn’t help but wonder why. It had to be more than pure luck that Hank and his brother found them. They must be able to track them somehow. Greg thought about how Hank could tell when a camera was watching him. Could that be it? Could he somehow be focusing on Greg’s electrical signal?
No, brain patterns.
Alvie could tell when an alien was nearby and whether they were good or bad. Hank must somehow be able to tap into the same information.
Leslie nodded toward a Jeep outside the hut and then gestured for him to wait. Greg nodded. Leslie carefully made her way over, glancing in the Jeep and flipping down the visor. Keys dropped onto the seat. Greg wasted no time hightailing it over to her and climbing into the passenger seat.
Gunfire sounded from over by the runway and Greg’s pulse jumped. Oh no.
“Do you think they’re shooting at our people?”
Leslie nodded. “Yeah.”
Greg closed his eyes, wishing there was something to do to help them. But there was nothing. He was powerless.
“Any ideas about where we should go next? A backup plan?” Leslie asked.
“I was thinking maybe—”
A metal thud sounded right behind them. Greg turned his head, his eyes growing large as Hank grinned at them from a car twenty feet away.
Chapter Ninety-Nine
Chris slammed the car to a stop only twenty feet from the entrance to the hangar. “Run!” he yelled.
But Maeve didn’t need the encouragement. She sprinted toward the hangar door with Pop held to her chest as if it was the finish line in a race—the most important race of her life. But even as she pounded down the ground, she knew this was just one leg of the race. There were still miles and miles to go, both literally and figuratively.
Alvie ran next to her, Snap saddled on his back. Pop held on to Maeve’s shirt, wrapping it around his small fists, his incredible balance keeping him in place. Chris brought up the rear with Crackle.
Maeve stepped under the overhang of the hangar entrance and automatically felt the temperature drop as the shade offered some relief from the blistering heat. Chris took up position in front of them, his eyes focused on the pickups as they kicked up dust racing toward them. “Someone get that door open!”
Maeve swung Pop around to her back, then held out her arms, and Alvie leapt into them. She stepped up to the keyboard.
Alvie’s fingers flew over the keypad, inputting the seven-digit code, and Maeve thanked God for Alvie’s incredible memory. The door popped open. Maeve swung Alvie down behind her, stepping to the door’s opening. “Got it.”
Maeve nudged the door open, her weapon back in her hand as she scanned the room. There was no movement, no sign of life.
“Clear,” she said, stepping in, holding the door open for Alvie and Chris. They hustled in and Chris stopped dead. “Holy crap.”
Maeve gaped. “That’s one way to put it.”
While there was no sign of movement there was one thing in the hangar: a giant spaceship.
The black ship was shaped like a boomerang and each stretch of wing was easily one hundred feet long. Small windows lined the sides.
“You think that thing’s operational?” Chris asked.
“You want to try and fly it?”
“Maybe some other time.” He turned to Alvie. “Can you fly that?”
Alvie shook his head.
“Okay, enough with spaceships, let’s find some technology we can count on, like an elevator leading down,” Maeve said.
“Hold on,” Chris said, cramming a pipe through the long handle of the door.
Maeve raised her eyebrows.
“What?” Chris asked.
“This is a multibillion-dollar facility, and you just locked a door with a twenty-dollar piece of tubing.
Chris grinned. “Sometimes the old ways are the best ways.”
Outside came the unmistakable sound of one of the pickups coming to a screeching halt. Chris grabbed Maeve’s arm. “Let’s find the way down.”
They sprinted across the large space. But even in that mad dash, she couldn’t help but take in the spaceship and wonder which race of the aliens they had seen had created it. At the same time, most of the aliens seemed so primitive, little more than animals. Of course, they’d been locked up for their whole lives. Humans raised under such conditions wouldn’t be able to drive a car or work a computer either.
But she forced her curiosity aside and focused on the more immediate issue. “There.” She pointed to the undeniable outline of an elevator. The silence was loud until the door rattled behind them. And then gunshots sounded as whoever was out there tried to blast their way in.
Chris stabbed at the control panel, but nothing happened. “It must have been shut down.”
The door bucked as someone kicked it with a curse. The door was not going to keep them out for long.
“Stairs?” Maeve asked, already moving toward the door to the left of the elevator.
“Yup,” Chris said, running after her.
Maeve grabbed the door handle as Chris lined up next to the door. He nodded at Maeve and she yanked it open. Inside, it was extremely dark. Only the emergency lights running along the stairs provided any illumination, and that only extended about two feet up from the ground.
“Well, this sucks. All right, let’s go into the creepy creepy stairwell toward the mythical tunnel that we hope still exists.” Chris stepped into the dark.
Alvie followed him in, stopping first to pat Crackle’s leg as he passed.
The door on the other side of the hangar rattled again, and then there was a loud explosion and the door blew off and into the hangar. Maeve quickly stepped into the stairwell, closing the door behind her and entombing them in the darkness.
Weapon at the ready, she let out a shaky breath and followed the rest of the group down the stairs, promising herself that if she survived this, she was never again going into any buildings that had more than one floor.
Chapter One Hundred
Keeping his eyes focused on Hank on the car only twenty feet behind them, Greg yelled. “Go, go, go!”
Leslie quickly turned on the engine, peeling away from the curb. Behind them, Hank leapt from the car and raced along the ground toward them, moving incredibly fast. Greg had theorized that given open ground, Hank would have the speed of a cheetah. He’d never attempted to validate it because the idea of Hank being given space to run was too terrifying to contemplate. But as Hank raced after them, Greg could only conclude two things: one, he had been right about Hank’s speed, and two, Hank running at full speed was indeed completely terrifying.
Hank leapt in the air and landed only ten feet behind them. Greg screamed and Leslie yanked the wheel to the side, swerving down an alley. Going too fast, Hank skidded right by the alley, and Greg sucked in a breath.
“I swear, if Hank or the bomb doesn’t kill me, I’m going to die of a heart attack!” he scream
ed.
Leslie sped down the alley and bolted out the other side, just missing a military truck heading in the opposite direction.
“Shit!” Greg threw his arms over his face as Leslie missed the truck’s bumper by inches.
The truck reversed and turned down the alley after them.
Greg groaned, knowing whoever was in the truck was not trying to help them. And behind them, he saw the ever-encroaching specter of Hank.
A shadow moved in his peripheral vision. He squinted at the roofline of the building next to him trying to make out what it was racing along its rooftop. Leslie blasted through the intersection, turning the wheel sharply, and Greg slammed into the side of the car, losing sight of the creature. But then it leapt off the building and his heart all but stopped.
“Leslie?”
“What?” she yelled, her voice tense.
“There’s another one.”
“Another what?”
Greg couldn’t believe what he was about to say. “Hank. There’s another Hank.”
Leslie’s head whipped toward him, her eyes huge before she turned back to the road, gripping the steering wheel even tighter. “God damn it, how many of those things did they make?”
“I’m hoping only three.”
The truck behind them picked up speed, and gunfire slammed into the back of the Jeep. Greg yelled and ducked as Leslie swerved down another alley.
“Oh shit.”
Greg looked up, and his eyes grew wide. There was a giant dumpster halfway down the alley. They’d never be able to drive around it. Leslie slammed on the brakes, the front bumper just touching the dumpster.
“Get out!” she barked at him.
Greg fumbled for the door and all but fell out of the car. Leslie was already climbing over the hood of the car. Greg stepped on the bumper, the pain in his thigh making him suck in a breath. Leslie landed on the ground and pulled him along the hood. “I’ve got you.”
Behind them, the truck turned into the alley and then slammed on its brakes. Leslie grabbed Greg’s arm and pulled him away.