Page 45 of Ashfall
My fingertips turn white with the violence of their grip on the device, so tight that it shakes in my hand, the image of my father tied up rattling in a frenzy. “You have two options here, Nyx.” Graves walks off, shifting the camera to face him as he positions it atop an object, giving me the full view of him and my bound up father. He lazily strolls back to stand before him.
“Option one: I can either give you the location of the weapon, allowing you six hours to reach it, save that state from being wiped of all its civilians and military forces. Or…" He drags the last word out, taking a couple steps back. He pulls a Glock fromwithin his disgraced military jacket, aiming the barrel right at my dad. A shot rings out, shattering the silence. It rips a frantic scream from my throat, and I grip my mouth with my palm, fighting to contain it as my fingers bite into my cheeks. Watching my dad jerk backwards against his restraints, the shot piercing his shoulder. But dad doesn’t make a sound, not even a grunt. His body shudders with the pain as he stares Graves straight in the eyes - not backing down. “Option two: You come to me within three hours, to ensure I don't make you an orphan.”
My pulse constricts, my heart beating so fast that I don't think it takes time to release before hitting the next beat. “And before you go alerting any ofmyteam, Nyx.” Graves turns to face the camera, venom oozing from his words. “You can't choose both.” The hand with the gun slowly rises, aiming back at my father. “You even attempt to do so, there will be nothing left to save… for either option.”Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “Make your choice.”
Graves stares straight at the camera, another shot firing off as I flinch, my breath stolen as the video blurs with my vision. The bullet whirling inches above my father's head. But my dad remains strong, rooted even with the danger that taunts him. Graves leisurely strides towards the camera, but my dad finally speaks up, his words rushed, yet there’s not an ounce of fear in them. “Don’t come here, Brodie, Don't-” The video cuts, my dad’s frozen plea etching into my membrane as his face stills at the corner of the screen, mid shout.
The phone vibrates in my hand, and with shaking fingers, I pull down on the screen to exit out of the video. My eyes dart to read the menacing words that begin to blur, angry tears scorching my stinging eyes.
Unknown:
Choose Nyx. The state. Or your father.
You have sixty seconds.
Panic starts to claw its way up inside me, trying to hold me prisoner as my body vibrates, my mind starting to collide with all the possible solutions and outcomes. My mouth fills with a metallic taste as I bite my lip hard, trying to level myself. I inhale a breath so deep, my lungs burn until I can no longer force more air in.Goddammit! The choice is already made in my mind, but I've no time for any remedies. I may be damned to hell for an eternity, stripped of everything I've built for choosing it, may even see my own execution for it. But there is no other choice. My shaky hands fly over the keys, no hesitation when I hit the send button.
Nyx:
Option two.
My eyes watch the phone, waiting for the outcome. They begin to dry up as I don't blink, afraid that if I do, I'll miss the response and it'll be gone forever. An address pops up, and when I click on it, I see it’s in an abandoned industrial estate, exactly three hours and four minutes away. A further ding on the phone, signaling another incoming message from Graves
Unknown:
No weapons. No support. No army.
The timer starts now.
I rush to my feet, shoving the phone in my hoodie as I blast through the doors of the gym, feet pounding as I head out inside the cold night air. I stop. Mind rambling with thoughts on how the hell I'm getting out of here without raising an alarm. My head swings back and forth, looking for the nearest patrol. I dart towards him, and he falters for a brief second, staggering backas I peel towards him. Only the patrols are aware we're special ops level, and to not engage or question us, unless spoken to. “Nyx, ma’am, are you alright?” I look over him, trying to get my breathing under control.
I steel my spine and decide to flex my clearance. “I need transport, can you take me to the closest convoy?”
He falters. “I’m sorry wh?—”
I drop the bass of my voice, my eyes clouding over with the same haunting vision I would adopt if I were about to snuff the light out of him. “I need a convoy, Sergeant. Do not make me repeat myself again.” I take a step closer, and I watch him steel his spine. “Or are you obstructing a superior officer?” His jaw grinds, taking in my attire. I'm in trainers, leggings and a hoodie. Hardly geared up for something relating to a mission.
My knuckles crack at my sides, but his hand reaches up to the radio attached to his vest. A bleep splitting the tension between us. “Gatekeeper, this is patrol eight. Be advised, we have VIP movement near checkpoint eight. Request convoy access to the main gate for immediate exit. Over.” In any other scenario, a devilish smile would be creeping over my face. But it doesn't. Instead it's relief that unpicks a small thread of stress from my rigid form. The gate responds that a convoy will be delivered and is three minutes out. My feet shuffle with anticipation, I left my phone behind, and I don’t want to pull this one out because of the screensaver. I have no idea of the time and how much I have left to get to my dad.
Headlights expand in the distance, the beams glow like halos as my ticket out of here approaches. A woman gets out of the convoy, leaving the engine running as she slides into the passenger side, whilst I get behind the wheel. “Gatekeeper this is Patrol one. Enroute with VIP, prepare for exit. Over.” My foot hits the gas, then eases up when I feel her stare on me. I fight the urge to plow through the roads to the exit gates - I can’t drawattention with a convoy flying through the base at this time; I’ve likely already raised eyebrows. When I approach the gate, I stop to let the female patrol out, who shouts signals to the gate as the barrier raises. Two patrols who stand guard on the road step aside, allowing me to move forward.
I grab the phone from my pocket, and it feels like a hot piece of coal in my grasp, fingers burning around the device that holds the key to keeping my closest remaining family member alive. My fingers slam the address into the convoys navigation system, the tips sliding over the screen with the sweat build up. It takes a second for it to calculate the route, then shows I'll reach there in two hours and fifty-seven minutes. I type a message out on the text exchange with Graves, leaving it unsent. With the split decision in my mind, and the heavy weight of the device in my hand, I make a quick flick of my wrist, throwing the phone out onto the road. My foot slams onto the pedal, the tires of the convoy screeching as I surge forward, water and spray following behind me.
I need to do this alone. But I hope that leaving a small trail might help the team get to the chemical weapon, if they receive the video and message in time and are able to decipher the data within the time frame Graves hinted at. The patrols in my rearview mirror shrink to small figures, almost resembling plastic children's toys in size the further I go. I chant a prayer that one of them either saw or noticed what I threw out, and can save the people I couldn't, because I likely won't make it out of this alive.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
nocturne
Isqueeze Brodie closer with my arm.Fuck I'm floored.Sixteen-hour days for almost two weeks, I don’t get to spend much alone time with her. Except in moments like these, the only peace I know is when she’s within my grasp. I lower my head, dragging a breath in to find her familiar, intoxicating scent. But it's faint. My eyes fly open, and I fist the pillow she's replaced herself with when I nodded off. My heart fucking stalls. I jolt my body upwards, eyes searching the room, now fully awake. I march over to the bathroom door, my hand splaying against the brown surface as I throw it open, the knob smashing off the tile, the ceramic cracking beneath it.
“Brodie?” My voice is loud, a tinge of panic in it as the entire room comes up empty. Her trainers are gone, and I grab my phone off the nightstand. It’s almost midnight.Where the fuck is she?I throw on my tactical gear, bullet proof vest and all. She's been heading to the gym at night, running off some steam, but she's never back this late. That knowledge stirs something unbidden deep inside my core. I sprint to the gym, my feet thrashing on the ground as I throw the doors open. Its fucking empty. Dread begins to penetrate my bones, and I tug my phone from my pocket to dial her number. I start to pace atthe threshold when my ears prickle at the vibration from in the room, the sound of metal rattling off plastic stopping me dead in my tracks.
I pull it away from my ear, hearing it clear as day. My eyes whizz around the room, fearing the worst as I search the floor, looking for any open windows, but I’m granted nothing. My boots slam over to the treadmills, thumb tapping on the call button to her phone. The vibration is louder this time, her black phone screen lights up with'Lev'as it stares at me, mocking me from the holder on the machine. I force my weight onto the machine, the hinges creaking beneath my feet, sending a haunting chill down my spine. The heart monitor dangles restlessly as the machine remains paused, the emergency stop sign still flashing from when it was first initiated.No.
I swipe her phone up, but it’s password protected “Fuck!” My roar shakes off the walls, feeling like the velocity of it could bring down the fucking building. The phone almost snaps in my grip as I feel every vein in my body surge to the surface as I shake with an uncontrollable anger. And Fear. I sprint back to quarters, my feet pounding through the night as my breathing picks up to a pace that sounds like I've run ten marathons back-to-back.
I reach Hawk’s door, not even bothering to wait for a response as I pound my fist through it, the wooden surface cracking beneath my knuckles, and I throw it open to the darkened room. “Get the fuck up, Hawk. Brodie's gone.” He rolls over in bed, throwing himself up by the torso, his eyes squinting from the bright yellow light in the hallway. “What do you mean gone?” He doesn't wait for me to elaborate. He's throwing his limbs into his gear as I march to the main office in quarters, heading to sound the alarm. The one in here will alert these quarters members only. Avoiding the need to alert the wholebase.I will if I need to. I throw the plastic cover up, snapping it off its hinges as my fist slams into the red stud.
