Graduation Day (14 page)

A figure steps into view.

“Tomas?” I ask, but I know it is not. The shoulders are too broad. The hair just a fraction too long.

My instincts scream for me to turn and run.

And I do.

I
HEAR A
voice curse. Someone must have known about our meeting and followed me in. To do what? I don't know, but I am pretty sure I don't want to find out.

Blood pounds in my ears as I run. Away from whoever is now running behind me. Away from the entrance. Away from what I am almost certain means an end to a plan I have barely embarked upon.

The footsteps behind me sound like they are getting closer. I dart around the large steel beam supports and follow the hallway as it curves to the left. I'm fast. The person behind me is faster. And chances are whoever it is knows this building far better than I do. I am at a disadvantage, but if my pursuer thinks I will give in easily, he or she is mistaken.

My bag bounces against my side as I run. The jostling throws me off balance, and I shift the strap over my head to better secure the bag at my side. I glance at the closed doors that I pass. Any one of them could give me a place to hide, but if the door I choose is locked, my pursuer will catch up.

I see a set of stairs to the right and race to them. My muscles burn as I climb. When I reach the first landing and head for the second flight of stairs, I brave a look. Dark hair. White jacket. Angry expression. Dark eyes that are focused on me.

There is something vaguely familiar about him. If I had time to stop and think, I might be able to place him, but at the moment I've learned what I need to know. The boy behind me doesn't have a weapon and he's halfway up the staircase to the landing. The first gives me the advantage I've been missing. The second tells me that if I want to capitalize on his lack of defense, I have to move even more quickly.

My breath comes hard and fast as I climb step after step while unfastening the closure to my bag. My fingers find the wooden butt of my gun as I hear the boy reach the landing below and begin to climb the next flight of stairs.

Good. Let him come. The higher he climbs the better.

When I reach the top, I don't allow myself time to think. I just pull the gun out of my bag, turn, and fire.

The boy jumps to the left and then stumbles and goes tumbling down the stairs. He groans as he hits the platform with a thud. The sound gives me a hum of satisfaction as I race down the corridor to the left. Behind me I hear the boy swear and start his climb again. Even though I missed, the pain and frustration in his voice tell me he isn't as fast as he was. Which is all I can really hope for. Hitting a moving target while I am also in motion requires far more skill than I have. The only way I'm going to hit anything is by chance. But my pursuer doesn't know that. And now that he is aware of my weapon, he will be forced to move more cautiously.

I glance behind and see he has reached the top of the stairs. I fire again. This time the bullet hits the ground somewhere in front of him. He drops to the floor. I keep running. Around the curved corridor. Down the hall. I turn and fire once more to ensure he stays off balance, then bolt for the stairs that lead back down to the first floor. If I am lucky, I will find an unlocked exit and make my escape. If not, I will learn how accurate my shooting skills really are.

I fight to breathe. My muscles burn from exertion. Sweat streaks down my back as I fly down the stairs.

One flight.

Two.

I dash down the hall toward the doors I first came through, glance back to see if the boy has gained on me, and hear the rustle of fabric a second before I collide with someone.

Hands grab my arms and I fight to get free as a voice yells, “Cia?”

Tomas.

“Cia, what are you doing? What's going on?”

Somewhere above, footfalls sound.

“Someone's upstairs. We have to get out of here.”

“A couple of students might be working on a project. I thought the place would be empty, but we can always—”

“No. Someone was waiting for me to arrive and he's chasing me now. We have to run.”

The sound of shoes pounding the metal stairs makes Tomas look up. From my position I see a leg step off the landing. Tomas's eyes widen as he spots the person's face.

“Kerrick.” For a moment Tomas goes still. Then he shakes his head as Kerrick barrels down the stairs. Tomas looks around the room and takes a step to the left. “But if Kerrick is here, then—”

A gunshot punches the air to my right and a figure steps out of one of the rooms. I don't think. I set myself, aim, and fire. The answering scream tells me I have managed to hit something. I don't wait to see who I shot, I just grab Tomas's arm and yell for him to move. I don't understand what's happening, but I do know that if Tomas hadn't moved, he would be dead.

We reach the end of the hall. Gunshots rip through the air. Tomas flinches with each shot, but whoever is shooting must be as skilled at hitting a moving target as I am, because the bullets don't come close to our position. Of course, that could change at any moment.

I spot an exit to the right, but Tomas grabs my hand and pulls me down the hall to the left. “Come on.”

He leads me through a wide, arching doorway that runs into the center of the stadium. My throat burns with each breath. I climb the steps that lead to the entrance to the greenhouse. Tomas punches a code into a panel. The door slides open and he pulls me through.

The smell of growing plants and rich soil hits me first, followed by the air thick with moisture.

“This way.”

I have been in this room only once before, during my first University tour, and then only for a few minutes. Nothing here is familiar, and I am running out of ammunition. I can only hope that whatever Tomas has planned will get us out of this situation.

Tomas pulls me through several rows of oak saplings and through a grove of reed-thin elms near an area that is surrounded by a small, red wire fence. “There's a control booth over this way that runs the irrigation, power, and climate for the greenhouse. Go there.”

He begins pulling the knee-high red fence out of the earth. “Kerrick and Marin can't be allowed to leave here. Not unless we want them coming after us again or reporting us to someone who can do something worse. Go.”

Understanding what he's trying to do, I run to the twenty-foot-square patch of the greenhouse and help yank the fence out of the ground, removing the barrier that warns people about the plants contained inside. Plants my father has spent his lifetime eradicating. Mancinella Flowers. Pink Ivy. Poppy Doll Eyes. Red Jessamine. Flowers and plants that if touched or tasted can shut down nervous systems and cause cardiac arrest, blindness, vomiting, and dozens of other awful side effects. For some, ingestion is necessary to trigger the poison, but the Mancinella Flower and Pink Ivy only require the simplest touch for infection to occur. And Poppy Doll Eye berries can cause severe hallucinations, the walls of veins to thin, and hearts to stop beating. Terrible plants. Mutations caused by the chemicals unleashed upon the world. Those grown here are used for study so that scientists can figure out how to eradicate their effects. Today, Tomas and I need their deadly qualities to keep us alive.

Careful not to touch the toxic plants, Tomas and I shift the fence to an area that contains edible vegetation.

“Now what?” I ask.

“Now we have to get them to come in this direction and hope they don't notice what they're stumbling into. Kerrick is in Biological Engineering, but he deals more with animal studies than plants. I just wish we had a way to burn some of the plants. There are burners in some of the labs, but we don't have time to waste getting them. Maybe—”

“I have an idea,” I say, opening my bag and grabbing the matches I took from the chemistry lab and the specimen container where I stored the excess black powder.

“What's that?”

“Something that can set the plants on fire.”

I keep one eye on the entrance in the distance as I place the paper with the black substance near the patch of plants Tomas thinks has the best chance of making this plan work. Poppy Doll Eyes. When burned, this plant gives off fumes that will overload the nervous system. Something people from Pierre Colony learned when a spark from a researcher's campfire landed on dry grass near a large patch of the plants with the white bulbs that look like tiny eyes. The fire combined with high winds caused everyone living on the outskirts of the colony to suffer muscle spasms, blindness, or, in many cases, death.

With the amount of powder I have used, a flame should flare high and wide enough to make the white bulbs hanging nearby catch on fire. The only tricks will be to get our two attackers to come in this direction and to create a fuse long enough to allow me to get to the exit eighty feet behind this point before the smoke caused by the burning plants can reach me or Tomas.

“Here.” Tomas hands me a thin ten-inch strip of paper. Not as long or as reliable a fuse as I would like, but the shouts I hear and the figure bursting through the greenhouse door tell me I am out of time.

I lay the fuse on the paper and push a coating of powder onto the end. I fumble for the matches and pull one from the book.

“Get their attention,” I whisper as I poise the match against the strike pad.

Tomas looks at the black powder and the match, then back at me. Nodding, he stands. He takes several steps toward the greenhouse door. He pretends to stumble over an evergreen shrub and swears. That's all it takes.

Kerrick's head swings in our direction. “They're over there.”

Tomas looks back over his shoulder and makes for the exit behind us. Kerrick and Marin trample plants and weave around young trees as they race for our position. Tomas yells, “Cia. Come on.”

“My foot is caught,” I yell back. “Go. I'll catch up.”

Kerrick and the other person come closer. For the first time I get a glimpse of Marin. She's someone I have seen around campus. I think I've even noticed her talking to Tomas. Her most distinctive features are her smile and contagious laughter. She isn't laughing now as she closes the distance between us.

A gunshot rings out. I hear the bullet hit the ground far behind me. Aimed at Tomas. Another shot. Kerrick and the girl move closer. Everything inside me screams at me to flee, but I hold my position as I pretend to struggle to free myself from the phantom vine that holds me hostage. I need their attention directed at me, not on the nearby plants. They come closer. Just a few more seconds.

Five.

Another shot.

Four.

Kerrick spots me and yells.

Three.

The girl sees me and smiles.

Two.

I press the match hard against the strike pad and pull.

One.

The match flares. A gunshot makes me jump. The bullet slams into the ground to my right as I touch the flame to the paper fuse. The second I see the flame traveling up the paper, I scramble to my feet and run.

Another shot. I stumble and pitch forward as pain sears my calf. I swallow the scream that wants to erupt from inside me and tamp down my body's protest as I climb to my feet. Marin calls out to Kerrick. Tomas yells for me to hurry. I glance behind me and realize too much time has passed. The fuse should have ignited the powder. The plan didn't work, and Kerrick and the girl are coming.

I will myself forward.

“Come on, Cia.”

One step. Two. Faster.

“What's that?” I hear Kerrick yell.

The smell of sulfur reaches me. I hear another gunshot and someone starts to cough. I don't look back. I just keep moving one boot in front of the other, clenching my teeth against the pain that would otherwise bring me to my knees. Tomas already has the exit door open. His eyes are bright with fear as he holds out his hand, beckoning to me. Someone is still running behind me. I stumble through the door and Tomas slams it shut. His fingers fly over the control panel. The light above the door shifts from green to red, and now it can only be opened from this side.

A smart move, although one glance through the door's glass pane tells me it wasn't necessary. Kerrick is on the ground twenty feet from the exit. His body jerks as if connected to a stream of electricity. I can see the agony on his face as the toxins he breathed in take over his body. Shut down his systems. End his life.

I
FORCE MYSELF
to watch Kerrick die. No matter the reason, I helped caused this. I do not know anything about Kerrick save his name, his field of study, and the fact that he wanted to harm me.

Tears swell behind my eyes and sear my throat as I try to hold them back. But there is no denying them. The death of the boy, the pain burning my calf, and the knowledge that more people will die before this week is done are impossible to suppress.

Tomas's arms pull me close. He tries to make me look away, but I can't. My eyes stay focused on the scene behind the glass as feelings storm through me. Sorrow. Despair. Fear. Kerrick's still body swims in and out of focus as tears continue to flow. I feel Tomas's hands touch my injured leg. Fingers probe my wound. The screams I have been holding back claw out of my throat.

“I'm sorry, Cia,” Tomas says. His voice soothes even as his hands continue to touch the wound and cause pain. “We need to clean and bandage this. It looks like the bullet only grazed your calf, but it's bleeding pretty bad. There's a first aid room just down the hall. I think there should be something in there that I can give you for the pain.”

“It's not that bad,” I lie. “We should get out of here while we can. I don't know where the girl went, but she could be nearby.”

Tomas looks toward the greenhouse and shakes his head. “She's not going to be coming after us. Marin's in there.”

Despite the angry protest of my leg, I push to my knees. I follow the direction of Tomas's gaze, squint through the haze of smoke that still lingers, and see Marin sprawled among a group of small shrubs. Marin. A name that until minutes ago I'd never heard and now will never forget.