Page 96 of A Light in the Darkness
“Old rules apply,” I tell Claire. “Safety off.”
She nods, and I realize she’s already done it. “Shoot first?”
I don’t know how to answer that, because I don’t know who or what is on the other side. But Kent doesn’t hesitate the way I do. “Yes.”
Claire nods again, though he can’t see her. Next to her, Michael rolls his shoulders anxiously, Rich scans the space as if someone may appear behind us, and I drop Claire’s hand to position the scope of my rifle in the space between Rook and Kent’s heads. I want so badly to tell Claire to run rather than let her stand here, in the middle of what could very well turn out to be a shoot-out, but the truth is, she’s safer here right now.
“Head down.” I warn her, wishing suddenly that we had full uniforms so I could have put a helmet on her.
Claire nods, tipping her head down.
And then we wait.
And we wait.
“What if there’s no one in there?” Michael asks, after what feels like an eternity of silence.
“They are.” Rich says calmly. “And they’re going to break before we do, because once you rely on something like a camera tomonitor a space, you need to know what’s going on in there when the camera goes out.”
“Any minute now.” Kent warns.
They’re right, it turns out. And so was I, because a few moments later, there’s a rumbling sound that seems to shake the space over our heads. I hear rocks falling loose above us and hope there’s more than one way out of this bunker in case the mine shaft fails. The wall retracts slowly, rolling up inch by inch, but Kent holds his fist up, telling us to wait to fire until he gives us the all-clear.
Shots don’t immediately come from the other side, so as it peels back, revealing more of the space beyond it, we stand at the ready, my finger poised over the trigger, ready to lay it all on the line if that’s what it comes to.
But the shots still don’t come, and the feet on the ground don’t belong to men. They’re small, bare. And as the door reveals more and more, we realize all together, that they’rechildren.
“The fuck?” Michael growls, at the same time Claire gasps.
Kent stays stock-still, clearly as shocked as the rest of us.
There’s about twenty of them, in varying heights, boys and girls dressed in innocuous pajamas, some holding teddy bears or blankets. Most of them look like they were pulled from sleep, blinking tired and confused eyes at us, but a few of the older ones are wide-eyed, watching us with shock or fear.
Movement over the shoulder of one of the shorter ones catches my attention, and I look up to see the man stationed behind them with the gun in his hand turned sideways. I don’t have to look long to know he has no idea how to shoot the thing, and though Kent’s fist is in the air, commanding us to hold fire, I see the fat finger of the man shaking against the trigger.
And I see his barrel—not aimed at one of us, not at a threat, but at the back of a small girl’s head.
I squeeze the trigger, dropping him in a single instant, though not without creating chaos. The screams of the children echo around the walls as Kent yells for us to hold our fire. The kids turninto a mass of bodies, running in all opposite directions—a few drop to the ground in front of us, covering their heads with their hands, while others run deeper into the shelter.
Claire is the first to gather her wits—or the first to do something incredibly stupid. She breaks out from in front of me, darting past Michael before he has a chance to stop her, and pushes past Kent, who is focused on guiding us forward.
I hear another shot somewhere, though I have no idea where it comes from, and panic fills my lungs instead of oxygen as I move to the last spot I saw her before Claire dropped. The others push forward, sweeping the room for the source of the shot, but I can’t focus on anything with adrenaline flooding my veins and blurring my vision, panic dropping me to my knees, where I find her cradling a child against her chest, whispering something I can’t hear over the blood pounding in my ears.
Once I make sure she’s safe, I command her to stay down, and she doesn’t argue. I’m not even sure she heard me, she’s so engrossed in comforting the small form against her chest. Another moves toward her, seeking the same comfort, so I rise and look around the space.
It’s vast—like a giant studio apartment, with an industrial kitchen tucked in one corner and a massive couch in another. Despite the fact that it is still glaringly a bunker, it’s bright and clean, with a richly dyed rug covering the floor where the man I shot is laying in his own blood.
Rich, with his fingers on the side of the guy’s neck, shakes his head, assuring us that he’s dead. Kent’s already taken off in one direction without anyone at his back, and Rook goes the other way. As Rich gets to his feet, his eyes catch mine. I expect accusation, anger, but he bites his lip so hard it draws blood.
“What the fuck is this?”
I don’t know, and we don’t have time to figure it out. We’ve got to sweep the place.
“Keep your eyes out.” I tell Michael, nodding at Claire, who’s now got a child in each arm, and another wrapping its little arms around her neck. “Anything happens to her, and I’ll slit your fucking throat before you can say sorry.”
Michael only nods his understanding, but despite the shit I give him, he’s still by my side for a reason. Michael is capable, and he’d rather slit his own throat than intentionally let me down, which gives me the resolve I need to follow down the hall Kent disappeared into.
The corridor is long but lit enough by the lights overhead that I can see there are approximately ten doors on each side… at least. It’s going to take some time to clear this place, so I run to catch up to him. I double-check the rooms he’s already passed—they’re comfortably accommodated, but relatively bare, with no closets. It makes quick work of clearing the first few rooms, and then as I catch up to him, I spot the hair poking out from under a bed.
