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.
&nb
sp; “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.