Mia realized what was happening—Sebastian had pocketed the screws he’d taken from the vent screen, and now he was flinging them, one at a time, to create a distraction for the guards as he approached them in the darkness.
Sebastian crept up to the warehouse and jumped on the closest guard, stabbing him in the throat with a key grasped between his middle fingers. The other guard turned to see his comrade staggering toward him, blood gushing through the hands at his throat. Sebastian was pushing him forward, using him as a shield while the other guard began shooting. Sebastian shot back, using the pistol from the stabbed guard’s holster. The guard fell to the ground. He’d taken them out, but now every spotlight rushed toward the sound of gunfire and found Sebastian.
Sebastian crouched low and shoved open the warehouse door, ducking aside as bullets rang out at him. He fired back as he crawled inside.
Mia shivered as she listened to shouting and gunshots inside the warehouse, unable to see anything within. She did see a number of guards on foot, running toward the warehouse with guns drawn. Sebastian was trapped, and she didn’t know what she could do about it.
Then Sebastian raced out of the warehouse door, blood-spattered and cackling like he’d lost his mind, leaking from a bullet wound in his side and another that had torn a chunk from his leg. He held a machine gun now, and he blasted a spray at the guards converging on the warehouse, momentarily scattering them.
He didn’t come back for her, but ran hard toward the front gate, as if trying to attract everyone’s attention. The spotlights followed, and he turned and opened fire at them. He hit one, and it flashed and burst into flame.
The scattered S.S. men regrouped and chased after him, while more armed guards ran at him from the gate. They shot him up and down from two sides, the bullets chewing him up, and he shot back until he toppled over. The guards surrounded him and kept shooting.
Mia shuddered. She knew Sebastian could heal fast, but no one could survive what the guards were doing to him, blasting his head and torso with dozens of bullets at close range. He was gone, just like Juliana. Mia was alone, except for the small baby still growing inside her.
She only saw one option—go to the warehouse and see if she could make it all the way outside. If he’d cleared the way for her, leaving no guards behind, she might have a chance while all the Nazi guards were still distracted, laughing as they kicked his mutilated corpse.
Mia ran as fast as she could, her footsteps as loud as thunder in her ears. She expected bullets to cut her down at any moment, but she managed to make it inside the dim warehouse.
She caught her breath as she explored it, stepping over the gunshot bodies of dead guards. She found the enormous, armored steel cargo door, and she trembled as she found the button that activated its system of chains and pulleys. It began to rise, loud and clanking. She didn’t hesitate. The moment she saw a slice of the night outside, she dropped to her hands and knees and crawled under the rising door, her stomach dragging the concrete floor.
Outside, she found herself on a loading dock. She stood up, ran to the edge, and jumped to the pavement below.
Mia ran into the woods, out of range of the spotlights. She kept running for a long time.
* * *
The loud, clanking ventilation machinery looked like it hadn’t been upgraded in the intervening decades, though it now sat inside a narrow concrete room instead of raw cave rock. Mariella opened the access panel and found rows of electrical heating coils had replaced the old coal-burning furnace, warming the air before the array of fans pumped it through ducts to the underground rooms.
Mariella looked up the wide vertical shaft from which fresh, cool air pounded down from the giant fan above. The big vertical duct was now thick with water stains and mildew. No Nazi janitor had been ruthlessly scrubbing it with cleaning chemicals this time around. Unfortunately, this meant the rungs built inside were also slimy, and looked even more slippery than last time.
“I’ll go first,” Mariella said, leaning her head out to speak to Seth, Jenny, and Esmeralda. She’d gotten them this far safely, using Seth or Esmeralda to help her watch the future. “You’re the one carrying a baby this time, Seth.”
“I wish they had one of these back in the day,” Seth said, opening a small tool cabinet against one wall. From the array of hand tools suspended by magnetic strips, he picked the two largest screwdrivers and a pair of wire cutters and handed them to Mariella. “Good luck. Watch out for sparks.”
“I could have used that warning last time, thanks,” Mariella told him.
They climbed the slippery rungs as fast as they dared, Mariella first, then Seth with the baby in her sling and her head resting against his chest, then Jenny and Esmeralda.