Buzzing filled my ears so loudly I couldn’t even hear my own blood racing through my veins. I gasped for air and turned in circles, unable to think straight.
More screams filled the room, filtering up to the stacks from the main floor of the library. Shouts of “Move!” echoed through the room. Like I’d been shoved into action, I dove for cover at the end of a stack, as far away from the intruders as possible.
My fingers curled around the edge of the immovable wooden shelf that houses hundreds of books and I stared at that connection, wishing I could curl up on the shelf and hide. My eyes shifted up, where large tiles covered the ceiling and the modernized duct work behind them. Without a single thought to failure, I found a bare spot on the lowest shelf and hoisted myself up.
My heart pounded furiously with each step I took, but I kept climbing until I was crouched like a cat on top of the thick stacks. The shelves, placed back to back, created a solid three-foot wide surface. I stood on shaking legs and reached for the nearest tile.
“Shut up!” The scream burst off the walls, echoing through the library. A moment later the sounds of a scuffle met my ears, followed by the sickening sound of gunfire and the thud of another body collapsing.
I pushed against the edge of the tile and nearly wept when it lifted without complaint. Shouts and footsteps sounded through the library, coming closer to my location, pushing me to move faster. I shoved the tile with all my strength and sucked back a cry of horror when it hit something hard and a jagged crack appeared in the perfect cream surface.
Tears stung my eyes and my hands shook, but I couldn’t stop. It was move or die; I’d never felt surer of anything in my life. A cold white calm drifted down over me, and the sounds of distress and death faded away.
I reached into the void of the ceiling and wrapped my hands around the first thing I touched, a thick metal beam that disappeared into the darkness in both directions. Praying it was structural, I took a deep breath and sprang into the air.
I hooked the beam with my forearm, giving myself enough leverage to pull my weight up. The metal bit into my skin but I hardly felt it.
The space was tight, barely enough for me to squeeze my 5’10’’ frame in. I spread out, using the beam as support, and glanced down at the library below.
A guard, his face covered with the black balaclava like the others, moved into view no more than thirty feet away from where I hung, still exposed. Slowly, I reached for the tile, praying with every fiber of my being that he would keep his gaze trained on floor level, and pulled it towards me.
It shifted silently, inch by inch, the crack holding. I blinked back tears that dripped from my cheeks and shifted the tile the last precious inch. It clicked quietly into place.
It seemed impossible that the guard couldn’t hear my racing heartbeat or jagged breathing but his footsteps faded and the shouts from below quietened. I stayed frozen in the ceiling, not knowing how much time had passed or if more guards with guns were waiting in the commons below. My body felt frozen in time and place, unable to move now that I’d found a safe place to hide.
Slowly, my fingers regained feeling and my mind kicked into gear. I reached into my pocket for my cell phone. If I could just call for help, I thought, moving the phone in front of my face.
The glow from the screen lit the dark space and dashed my meagre hope. The text I’d tried to send to mom was sitting there, unsent. I looked at the bars and let my eyelids flutter shut as a wave of nausea threatened to pull me under.
They’d blocked cell service. We were on our own.
Letting out a long slow breath, I tried to think. A few years ago, a hurricane had whipped through Newfoundland before dying out, and it had taken out cell service for most of the province. My Nan, though, had never given into what she called “new fad technology,” and relied on her land line and a transistor radio her father had given her when she’d been a younger woman. I’d loved playing with that thing, so she’d taught me how to finesse the controls one weekend when I’d stayed over.
There was a transistor radio in the artefact museum. I’d noticed it the first time I’d walked the library. I’d called Nan for a chat almost immediately.
If I could just get there, maybe I could set it up and get a message out. At the very least, I’d be able to reach a trucker.
I shifted my weight and winced as jolts of nerves came back to life in my legs. The library was quiet, but I moved slowly and silently, unwilling to try my luck.
The tile cracked into two pieces the moment I pushed it, sending both parts crashing to the shelf below then onto the floor. The sound carried like a shotgun throughout the room.
Terror shot through me like electricity. If there were any guards in the vicinity, they would have heard the crash. I shimmied forward until my feet were hanging from the ceiling and lowered myself down onto the shelf top.
I kept my ears trained for sounds of running feet but kept moving, keeping my body as close to the stacks as possible as I raced toward the artefact museum. It was on the other side of the library, close to the art section. The only problem getting there, unless guards showed up, was that I had to cross the commons to get to it. There was no other way to get across the library.
I stopped at the end of the shelves and looked out at the open space. My breath caught in my chest painfully as I saw the body of the librarian, the one that had so helpfully pointed me in the direction of the map room, lying lifeless on the floor near the doors. Blood had pooled around her head from the shot she’d taken between the eyes.
The eyes, I shuddered. They were wide open and staring, like a broken doll, at nothing. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to block out the horror.
Silence and stillness met me as I stepped clear of cover and rushed past her body with a prayer to the Old Ones for her soul.
The artefact museum was deserted. I ran to the radio, circling it to see if all its parts were intact, and blessed the university for having high standards. It was a slightly older version than my Nan’s but it looked functional. I found the cord and followed it to a small hole in the podium it was set on.
It buzzed to life the moment I switched on the dial. The first grainy sound of another person’s voice on the other end of the line made my heart leap.
“This is Elena Jensen,” I rushed the words, stumbling over them, then started again. “Repeat. This is Elena Jensen. We need help a.s.a.p. I’m at…”
Plastic and wires exploded in a boom of deafening sound, showering the area in tiny, useless bits of electronics. I covered my head and threw myself to the floor, cowering. My ears rang, filling my entire world with a strange combination of silence and vibration. My eyes focused slowly on a pair of black boots, then moved up a man’s body and zeroed in on the gun pointed directly at my head.
Time slowed, and I began to notice things with startling clarity. His eyes were a mossy green with tiny flecks of gold.
Pretty, I thought absently, then a shudder ran through me as I recognized the hard, unyielding glint of a killer in those pretty eyes.
Chapter 13
“Get up.” His voice had a sharp edge of impatience that made me scramble to my feet. The gun pointed at my head helped spur me on.
I raised my hands automatically, imitating every victim I’d ever seen. I had no weapons, he had nothing to fear from me, but still I raised my hands and prayed he wouldn’t use the gun. I was too young to survive a bullet wound, even if he didn’t shoot me in the head or heart.
Wolves healed, but there was no coming back from some things. A chill arched up my spine.