He didn’t know she was there. He didn’t know. Her elation lasted mere seconds, though. What about Rodrigo and Uncle Hector? If the man’s walking around, had they gotten away? Or…
She didn’t want to think about it. She couldn’t think about it. If she did, she’d start screaming and the man would know where she was.
She forced herself to calm down. She had to assume it was up to her to get away and find help. But how? She couldn’t just crawl back through the rat hole and leave the way she’d entered the building. He’d said the opening through the cabinet was blocked off, so it would take time for her to clear it. He’d see her for sure. And if he had hurt either of the other two, they might need immediate help, so waiting until the man left wasn’t an option. She couldn’t hear him anymore, so it would be very unlikely she’d know when he was gone. In fact, she thought it was a very good possibility that he wouldn’t leave at all but silently wait her out instead.
Patricia wasn’t about to give up, though. Her brother and uncle were relying on her.
She looked around her cramped space, wishing there was some other way she could get-
Is that the sky?
Above her a slit of light glowed through an open seam in the ceiling. Could she get there? Was there a way to get through the old part of the roof if she did?
Once more she scanned her surroundings, but with different focus this time. The walls were out of the question. If she tried to climb them, there was no way she’d be able to do so without making a lot of noise. Plus, there was the very real possibility they might collapse under her weight.
There was another option-the chimney she’d been leaning against. It ran all the way up to the ceiling. In fact, the crack she’d seen might very well be where the roof met it. She twisted around and gave the stacked stones a closer inspection.
It wouldn’t be easy, but if she was careful, she thought she could do it. Not could, she corrected herself. She had to do it. She would do it.
Examining each stone before she grabbed it, she began to climb. A little over halfway up, without thinking, she put a hand on the wall to steady herself. The wood groaned from the pressure, and she immediately froze in place. For half a minute, she did nothing but listen for the man, sure he would check the noise, but as far as she could tell, he hadn’t returned. Maybe he just thought it was the normal settling sound of the structure. Or maybe he was gone.
She continued upward, moving past the height of the ceilings in the rooms, and into what had probably been the attic. Exposed beams, no floor, and not enough room for her to stand up if there had been. About twenty feet to her left, she could see where the attic had been sealed off, and beyond would be the recently installed removable roof.
The original roof was about four feet above her head. She could almost reach it with the tips of her fingers. She looked for a new spot on the chimney where she could grab and pull herself the rest of the way up, but there were no good options. She would have to use the beams, which meant noise.
She looked up again. The roof was definitely weak. She felt confident she could tear through it pretty quickly, but fast enough to make an opening, climb through it, then get off the roof and run for safety before the man came outside and found her?
Did she have any other choice than to try?
No. She didn’t.
Once she started moving, she’d have to keep going, every second critical, so she needed to plan it all out. She checked the roof, looking for the best spot to break through. She settled on an area a few feet beyond the chimney, where it sagged as if the addition of a single leaf on top would cause it to completely collapse. Hopefully, it would take little effort to finish the job herself.
She took a deep breath, and another, imagining what she needed to do. She placed her hands on the beams to either side, slowly transferring her weight, and was pleased that they made little sound.
“Up. Through the roof. Down to the edge. And run,” she whispered to herself as if giving an order.
Then, just as she was about to move, she heard a whoosh.
Out of reflex, she looked toward the part of the house the noise had come from, the part where the container was.
What is that?
Rather than fading away, the sound continued. Whatever it was, it was scaring the hell out of her.
Go! Go! A voice in her head screamed.
Not her voice. Rodrigo’s or maybe Uncle Hector’s. Maybe both.
She pulled herself up onto the beams, no longer concerned about the noise she might make. She needed to get out of there. That’s all she knew. She needed to get out of there now.
She forced her fingers into one of the cracks near the bottom of the sag in the roof, and pulled with all her strength. The ceiling groaned and cracked and protested for as long as it could, then broke free.
While Patricia had tried to position herself as best as possible, part of the roof glanced off her arm. She fell backward toward the hole she’d had just climbed up through. The only thing that kept her from falling all the way to the ground was the beam she caught with her arm.
As she pulled herself back up, she could feel heat coming from somewhere in the house.
Fire!
With renewed horror, she scrambled to the break in the roof and climbed outside. She couldn’t see the fire, but she could smell it now. There was an unfamiliar tang to it that was repulsive. She gagged and nearly threw up as she slid down the slope of the roof to the eaves. The second she got there, she took a quick look at the ground and jumped.
Safely away from the house now, she glanced back. Smoke had begun to billow out of cracks in the building, but that was nothing compared to the heat. It almost felt like she was walking on the sun.
Run, the voice ordered. Run. Run!
Patricia ran.
18
I.D. MINUS 7 DAYS
Richard Heath heard shoes echoing off the concrete floor, heading in his direction. As much as he wished it was another member of the depot’s security team, he knew it wasn’t. No, it was one of them. Because, unless he was completely mistaken, he was the last one of NB328’s detail left alive.
What he couldn’t understand was how the attackers had snuck into the facility without sounding any alarms. It shouldn’t have been possible, and yet it had happened.
Initially, he and his colleagues had thought it was simply some kind of raid to steal whatever could be grabbed. That was the type of incursion the security team had prepared for and been told by those above them in the Project to expect, but it quickly became clear that this wasn’t a group of local thugs just looking for something they could sell. The people who snuck in were professionals who worked silently, and they had eliminated most of the security detail with single shots from sound-suppressed weapons.
Heath had no idea why he was still alive.
Luck? Not hardly.
If he’d been lucky, he’d already be dead. One against God-knew-how-many? He didn’t have a chance. He checked his gun. Only five shots left. The way he figured it, that meant four for them, and the last for himself.
Dammit! Who the hell were these people?
The steps were much closer now. Surprisingly, he realized it was only a single pair. Did they not know he was here? Or did they think he was already dead? Whatever the case, the person walking in his direction didn’t seem to be concerned that he might put a bullet through their head.
He leaned against the crate closest to the end of the aisle, and wrapped both his hands around the butt of his gun. A little closer, he thought as he listened. Just a little closer, and at least I can take out one of you.