A gunshot sounded, distant. One second passed. Two.
The lights dimmed. Two seconds more, then darkness. Spots flared in my vision.
“Go,” Michael whispered.
Twenty pairs of boots clomped into the gym. From the corridor, I heard panicked whispers, then silence.
They’d heard us.
“They’re in there!”
Michael opened fire in response to the Lord’s warning. The man screamed as bullets entered his flesh. Michael’s AR thundered in the cavernous gym, the gun’s barrel flashing like lightning. I added my own volleys, feeling the familiar kick of my AR at my shoulder. I held firm, giving the force the dispersion it needed. Another man screamed. When Michael ceased fire, the rest of us followed suit.
Then came the sounds of boots running down the corridor, past the open doorway of the gym. More shots followed.
“After me,” Michael said.
I fell in behind Michael. The metallic air stung with the smell of blood.
Michael took a corner, clicking on his gun light. Its beam revealed two Lords crouching over a comrade bleeding from his gut.
They barely had time to scream before we shot them down.
“Two behind!” someone yelled.
I spun to see our men in the back ranks take action. We fired, they fired. One of our men dropped while two Lords fell. More men filled the intersection.
“Take cover!” Michael roared above the din.
I dove into an open doorway, followed by several more Angels. One was shot mid-dive. He screamed and crashed into the floor next to me, his warm blood splashing my face. I wiped my cheek on my shirtsleeve, gritting my teeth. I looked at the dead man. A good chunk of his neck had been blown off.
More shots sounded, ricochets of bullets zinging like metallic wasps. Then, silence. Distant gunfire, distant screams of men…
Neither side wanted to show themselves in the darkness. The squad had been split up, and to get back together, one of the halves would have to cross the corridor under enemy fire.
“This way,” Michael said.
I was glad he was among the Angels who had taken shelter in this room, because that meant I was with Michael. Our leader crouched low and walked to a back corner. He shined his light around, revealing toppled desks, chairs, and a blackboard leaning against the wall, upon which a set of numbers had been scrawled with chalk. I had the time to recognize it as the quadratic formula before we passed into another classroom through an open doorway. It was filled with the clutter of a Bunker past. More toppled desks. Dust and dirt lining the floor. And, chillingly, chains hung from the walls, at the end of which were shackles.
I didn’t want to know the story behind those.
Michael took the lead once more, pointing his light beam right. Then left. He paused.
A bullet screamed past.
He ducked back in, cursing.
“Michael!”
He shook me away. “I’m fine.”
“Quiet,” another man said.
I listened, hearing nothing for three long seconds.
That was when an explosion ignited outside, not in front of the door, but a short distance to the left of it. A bright flash of orange blinded me, and the heat of the blast licked my skin. The floor shook as I dropped to my belly, face down. Men groaned outside in the corner. I couldn’t tell if they were with us or them.
Michael stepped into the corridor. I was almost surprised when no bullets came to claim his life. He disappeared toward the left. I hesitated before following him.
Michael stood in a corridor littered with bodies, severed limbs, and crusted blood in the midst of crumbling concrete, rebar, and choking dust. I hacked in the sooty air. Nothing was recognizable.
“Where are we?” one of the men asked.
“Nowhere we need to be,” Michael said.
Michael turned from the collapsed tunnel, walking as if he knew where he was going. It was amazing how quickly such a man would be followed. We fell in step behind him as he turned to the left, not bothering to check the many open doorways he passed.
I was about to ask if we should slow down when Michael spoke.
“We become the hunters now.”
He reached a set of steps. At first, I thought it was to go up. I stared only for a moment before he struck downstairs.
I knew where he was going.
“Michael — this is crazy.”
He looked at me, his brown eyes intense. “Feel free to turn back. I’m going to hit them now, while most of their fighters are up here. I trust Makara and the others to hold the line. Any of you are welcome to join me.”
With that, Michael went down into the darkness, at first alone. He paused at the first landing, waiting a moment.
I thought about that day long ago when I followed Michael into the Wasteland for the first time. I would follow him again.
When I started after him, he gave a grim smile.
“Well, Alex,” he said. “It’s time to kill the Weasel.”
We quickly circled the flights of stairs down to level ten. Here the stairs ended, opening onto a long, dark corridor. Michael scanned left and right with his light.
At this distance, the gunshots had faded, though the occasional crack carried down the stairwell.
Michael walked forward, in search of another staircase leading down. The Lords’ headquarters were on level twenty, the lowest level of Bunker 84. With luck, they hadn’t left many defenders behind.
The corridor turned ninety degrees to the right, Michael’s light beam illuminating dancing motes. We walked a few steps before another stairwell materialized in the darkness.
Michael paused at the top of the stairs, listening. One of the men reloaded a magazine, the sound loud and echoing. Almost like a bullet itself.
Michael turned to face us. As an Officer and patrol leader in Bunker 108, he was used to leading. It was easy to follow him.
“Alright,” he said. “This one should lead straight to level twenty.” He fixed us all with a level gaze. “I don’t have much to say. I know we’re not supposed to be down here, but sometimes, you get a feeling you can’t ignore, an opportunity you can’t pass up. This is one of those. When we get to the bottom of the stairs, I don’t know what we’ll find. There’ll be civilians, so think before you shoot. Our priority is taking down the Lords and keeping the civilians safe.”
The men nodded and waited for Michael to speak again.
“Anyone not ready?” he asked.
No one spoke up.
“Let’s go.”
Of all the crazy things I had done since leaving Bunker 108, I felt this had to be one of the craziest.
We were running downstairs into darkness to confront an enemy of unknown size, without orders from either Makara or Samuel. But the prize was too tempting to pass up: we could save Ruth, Char, and Marcus, along with everyone else who had been trapped down there.
The flights went by in slow motion.
Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.
On level fifteen, a surprised Lord had been standing guard, where he had obviously fallen asleep. As he rushed to get up, grabbing his rifle, he was shot down. That shot would echo downward to the twentieth level.
“Keep moving,” Michael said.
Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen.
There were only two flights left, now. If Makara and the others could hold on upstairs, this might all end tonight.
Nineteen.
That was where the fighting started. A blaze of bullets issued from men hidden behind doorways, felling two Angels before the rest of us could continue to the twentieth.
“Markos…Groot…hold the rear!” Michael called.
The two Angels obeyed, even knowing the danger, but someone had to hold the Lords off on nineteen while we continued to the twentieth. Two more Angels peeled away to assist Markos and Groot. Michael motioned the rest of us on.