Prank Wars (46 page)

There had to be a way to warn Byron—or stop Eric from reattaching the missing piece to the frequency remote. He was surrounded by three men and—I groaned—I was not some kid defending the house from burglars at Christmas. The terrorists easily outran me on the noisy stairs. I could only run so quietly and so fast when I was two flights below them.

“Find Mad Dog,” Eric told Sandra. “I’m on my way to the control room.” He clicked off his android, and rushed faster up the stairs. Where was the control room? The top floor? I was dying here. If these monkeys couldn’t find Byron, I didn’t know how I could, but maybe—Byron could find me?

“Hey, Eric! I’ve got Byron’s new phone!” I shouted up to him. My voice echoed in the dark. “In five minutes, the next call I’ll make will be to you!”

Eric hesitated on the stairs. I ran off the stairs onto the second floor. The men switched directions above me to head me off. I had a two flight running start. I hoped the noise would alert Byron to where we were. I ran past dusty cabinets and machinery, feeling like I was stuck in a haunted house—catwalks and shadows everywhere, places to hide, but I had to be found to make a commotion. So far, no Byron. I hoped Eric hadn’t sent his men to head me off while he did his dirty work upstairs.

The dark sky outside beckoned through a crack in a door that was slightly ajar. Where could it possibly lead to, but to a ledge outside the building? I took my chances and jerked it open, seeing a flat roof below me and a catwalk attached to a smokestack beyond that. I was on the lowest roof where Byron had broken into the building.

A noise behind me sent me sprawling all the way outside. I landed onto the gravel and skidded to my hands and knees. I couldn’t slow down. The catwalk shook beneath my running feet and I headed blindly for the ladders leading to the next roof. My bandaged hand landed on the first rung. I hoped I’d make enough noise to alert Byron before I actually made it up to the Provocity Towers. I reached the second roof, seeing another door leading back into the building. Eric’s men rushed up the ladders behind me.
Dune Guy
was at the lead. His face screwed into a mask of rage. His fists human mallets. There was no sign of Eric. My body shook with cold and fear. I climbed up the ladder propped under the door.

“Byron!” I shouted, wrenching it open. I found myself on the top floor of the utility building, warning signs plastered over what could only be the control room. A gaping hole covered half of the floor. It dropped twelve stories to the basement below. My knees buckled, and I clutched at the railing. A chain hung from the ceiling and dangled through the hole dropping into the darkness. There was not a good guardrail around that thing.

The sounds of fighting drifted to where I stood. A crash and a shout. That was Byron. And Eric? I sidled around the edge of the hole, listening closely for my pursuers. I picked out the click-clack of stiletto heels and turned to see Sandra’s gorgeous, spiteful face. Her hand rested lightly on the hip of her skinny jeans. She blocked my way. My fingers clenched over the railing. “I always knew you were mean, Sandra, but do you really want Byron to die?” I asked her.

Her beautiful hair splashed over her shoulder when she shrugged. “It’s business, psycho. He got in the way.” She pulled out a gun from her side holster, her red fingernails wrapping expertly around the handle. She raised it to my head. Byron jerked me roughly back.

“Byron!” The shot rang out over us after we landed behind a long metal cabinet full of wires. I tried to get enough air to talk. “Byron!”

Before I could get anything out, Eric smashed into us from behind, jamming my wrist behind me hard. Byron cuffed him in the face and shoved him far from me. Sandra still had her gun. I rolled behind another cabinet moments before it went off. I tried to work out how many shots she’d have. The door flew open behind us and Eric’s team of hostiles shoved their way in.
Dune Guy
pushed past them, far too eager to find me. A smile tipped Sandra’s lips. She had as many shots as she wanted.

I scrambled behind a wooden box, knowing it wouldn’t provide enough shelter, except to hide from Eric’s men. Dark shadows loomed behind me over a narrow walkway. Leftover tools hung on the wall—a wrench, a hammer—they were the most logical choices, but I didn’t want to hurt anybody. I glanced over at the fire extinguisher. A loud shot echoed into the darkness and something splintered near my side. I bit down a scream, not wanting to give my position away.

“Poor Mad dog, so socially backward,” Sandra called. “You can’t even text.” I took a deep steadying breath. “
Poor dear.
I wasn’t even a real co-ed and I got more dates than you.”

I pulled the tag out of the fire extinguisher and shot a steady stream of white foam at her. She screamed and landed on her back. Her gun skidded across the wooden floor and toppled down the pit of despair in the middle of the room. Our eyes met. I made a moue with my lips. “Oh, you don’t have a gun, Sandra. What
will
you do now?”

She took off one of her red stiletto heels and sprang at me.
I guess she could do that.
I lifted the fire extinguisher to block it. The stiletto made a poing sound against the metal and I pushed her back. She swung again. This time the stiletto sunk into my leg. I sucked in my breath at the pain and knocked her away. “Do you really want to do this?” I was just trying to distract her with a stupid question and, for a moment, it worked. I listened to the sounds of fighting near the control room. Another crash then some buzzing. More shouts. It was driving me crazy that I couldn’t get to Byron to tell him about his phone. I had been so close. I glared at Sandra. “Don’t you care about him at all?”

She tilted her head at the suggestion. “
Lord Byron
…as you call him…is a self-righteous prig. You two deserve each other.”

Well, rude, but…
“Thanks.”

“How about you die with him!” That sounded like a warning to me. I ducked behind a machine. She threw a hammer at my head. It crashed against the paned glass windows covering half the wall behind me. The windows vomited all over me in a shower of glass. I tried to cover myself from the shards as they instantly cut up my arms and hands. I stumbled to the other side of the machine to get away from her.

Byron and Eric wrestled near the edge of the gaping hole, their muscles straining. Eric kicked him in the side and Byron twisted, punching him in the face. Eric staggered to his feet and stumbled backwards just to have Byron viciously jerk his legs out from under him, making him crash against a metal cabinet. Sparks flew behind Eric and he arched in pain, rolling to the side. The cabinet toppled down on Byron. He rolled out of the way, but the cabinet caught his shoulder. He cried out in pain and pushed off the ground. I didn’t know that Byron had so much fight in him.

Where did Eric’s men go?
Dune Guy
was noticeably absent. If Eric had put the missing piece in place, they could very well be on the run to avoid becoming the first hole in the ground. I sprinted forward. “Byron! Your iPhone!”

“Behind you!” Byron shoved Eric away and threw all his weight against another metal cabinet, shoving it down on me. I scurried out of the way as that too groaned and fell. I turned and saw
Dune Guy
. His fingers scraped over my arm. I tripped backwards, seeing the cabinet pin him and two other pursuers neatly to the cement. They screamed in pain. I scrambled backwards, putting some distance between me and
Dune Guy’s
murderous eyes. Already he was pulling free.

“Eric!” I heard Sandra’s disembodied voice shout. “Tell me the device is engaged?”

“Hölle is on it,” his voice echoed back.

Where was the mysterious Hölle? I searched the darkness desperately, seeing no one. Not Hölle, not Byron, not Sandra, not Eric. The back of my neck began to tingle uncomfortably and I felt my way through the debris, my converses crunching over the shattered glass. I listened to the slams and groans of pain in the distance and knew who it came from. I ran, tripping through the machinery, running towards the light. It was coming from the control room. The closer I came, the louder the fighting escalated. I gasped out as soon as it illuminated the fight before me. Byron was bleeding and fierce; he faced Eric like they were in an arena. Neither of them were giving up, their weapons long gone.

The loud roar of machinery made my ears ache. Did that mean Hölle had connected the trigger? It didn’t seem like it—the device would run like a sleek piece of machinery. Still, there was definitely something wrong with the air. I took a deep breath, knowing I had to go back into the fray. “Byron!” I tried to shout over the noise.

Byron shook his head at me and waved furiously for me to go. I couldn’t or he was dead. Eric was on him like glue. Byron punched him back so hard, it made my own eyes swim. Eric retaliated, his body swinging into an arc, kicking Byron’s bleeding side. How had I ever believed they were mere college students?

I tried to get closer just as Byron grabbed Eric. The muscles stood out like tree roots on Eric’s neck. His eyes rotated until they found me...then locked onto something next to me. Sandra stepped out of the shadows, a sultry smile smoking her lips. I jerked in surprise. She dangled a wrench between two fingers. Byron loosed Eric’s fingers over his neck and punched him back into the control room. No doubt to disable the device from there, but he didn’t understand. Once Hölle attached the missing piece to the frequency remote, Byron would be the trigger. The control room had nothing to do with it.

I took an uneasy step toward the control room just as Sandra stepped between us. She tightened her grip on her weapon and swung. I stumbled back, my back smashing against a ladder that led through the vaulted ceiling. I twisted to stare up at it, knowing it would take me to the highest roof and the Provocity tower. And then what? I’d risk my life by scaling to the top? I couldn’t get to Byron to warn him in time. I really had no choice but to carry out plan C: Go to the roof and disable the control box from the top.

My stomach rebelled at the idea even as Sandra came closer. I lunged for the ladder and she kicked off her other stiletto. I climbed higher, hearing the heel clatter to the ground. Her bare feet padded behind me. There was no going back. She was out to kill me. I reached the ceiling and shoved on the trapdoor with all my might. I felt it scrape open the same time Sandra’s fingers ripped into my ankle. I kicked back and felt the sickening impact against her face as I wriggled through the opening like a rat under a door. Once I was through, I kicked the trapdoor shut. She let out an angry shout. Her fingers retreated back inside.

I didn’t have much time. I rushed across the gravel on the roof, past weird stacks and formations. The Provocity Tower cut a deep slash into the night sky. The moon shone silently over it all. My body shook uncontrollably, only now realizing the enormity of what I was about to do. Byron’s life depended on my inadequate struggles against fate. A catwalk connected from the roof to the tower and I rushed over it like one possessed. The trapdoor opened behind me and Sandra staggered through the hole with a shriek, “Don’t take another step, Mad Dog!”

I didn’t want to. The catwalk shook under my feet. The ground stretched far below it. Already I was too far up, but I couldn’t turn back now. The antenna was braced on the Provocity tower next to the painter’s scaffold—the control box was attached to the bottom of it, and it all seemed impossibly high to me. I reached the end of the catwalk and measured the gap between it and the ladder—it was wider than I had expected. Sandra was gaining on me. I had no time to think about it. I took a deep breath and lunged for the ladder, and hit it hard with my bandaged hand. My fingers wrapped convulsively around the first rung and, shaking, I pulled myself upright. I took another breath, trying to gather my courage to pull myself to the next rung.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she screamed.

Climbing…unfortunately.
My breath wouldn’t come out naturally. I forced a hand loose from the first rung on the ladder. It was moist. I wiped it against my shaking legs and found the next rung then the next and the next, forcing myself into a steady rhythm. Sandra’s people had mounted some harnesses to the side, probably to help them get the device up here safely.
Please let me reach them.
My fingers wouldn’t quite obey me, but I managed to brush against the first harness and drag it closer to me one-handed. There were too many buckles on it, and I gave up and wrapped the strap around my waist a couple of times. It should be enough to hold me if I slipped.

“Get away from there.” Sandra was steps below me. The reminder was enough to send me scrambling higher up the ladder while she shrilled out more orders. I spotted the first row of antennas above. A catwalk curled around the tower beneath them with the painter’s scaffold to the side. It was so high up there. My eyes went blurry. I took another deep breath, telling myself I didn’t have much further to go before I reached the dish.

I felt a cold grip on my ankle. Sandra’s fingernails dug into my flesh. Tying on the harness had slowed me down, and she was too good for one. Sandra tugged viciously and I kicked back at her, just enough to dislodge her hold on me. There was no way I wanted to send my former roommate plummeting to her death. Sandra easily dodged the kick and tugged on my ankle again, screaming loudly. I wrapped my arms around the rungs of the ladder, not really trusting that the harness tied around my stomach would really hold me if I fell. Desperately, I kicked Sandra back again—this time harder. She let go, just enough to let me inch my way up higher.