Page 67 of Beehive

Will’s shadow caught my eye. He nodded toward the exit.

The guard stopped, his flashlight swinging back.

“??????!”(Halt!)he shouted, his voice sharp.

The guard raised his rifle.

More shouts echoed against crates.

We were out of time.

24

Will

My heart stopped for a beat before roaring back to life. Thomas yanked me forward, his grip a vise. We charged out of the room into another corridor.

“Move!”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

My feet slapped, echoing down the passage like a drumbeat marking our flight. Behind us, guard’s shouts grew louder, more frantic, joined by the clatter of boots.

The passage twisted sharply.

Thomas ran ahead of me.

The weight of the satchel slung over my shoulder was an anchor, its precious cargo weighing heavily.

“Through here!” Thomas hissed, shoving open a door that creaked loudly on its hinges.

We slipped inside. Darkness swallowed us whole.

A click told me Thomas had locked the door.

A moment later, its handle rattled.

The door flew open.

A beam cut through.

I crouched, pressing myself against the side of a crate, my breath coming in shallow gasps.

A guard stepped inside.

His flashlight swept the room.

Thomas was still. I could almost feel his body coiled like a spring.

The sound of a distant crash echoed through the building, shattering the silence. It was so loud I wondered if the Russians had crashed their cars outside.

The guard spun on his heel, his flashlight jerking toward the door.

Another crash followed, louder this time, accompanied by insistent shouting.

Then something outside exploded.

The whole building rattled, and chips of paint or chipped concrete rained from the ceiling.

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