“Are there any checkpoints between here and the next set of stairs?” demanded Ms. Dale, her eyes narrowed at Cruz.
The man gave her a confused look and then nodded. “One more,” he replied.
“New plan,” she announced, pulling her gun. “Vivian and I are taking you downstairs after discovering you tied up.”
We’re on our way, Thomas, I subvocalized. Meet us at the access road that goes around the back of the stadium, off the main road. Be prepared to drive around looking for us—I don’t know which exit we’ll be coming out of yet, but it will be one of the farther ones.
Ms. Dale took point, Cad, Cruz, Jeff, and I holding down the middle of the party, with Amber bringing up the rear. The checkpoint was clear as we approached it, only a cursory guard standing there. She drew down on us as we approached, but Ms. Dale held up a hand and quietly explained the situation.
“We have to get them downstairs and out of the building to question,” she said in a hushed and urgent tone. “We have no idea their role in all this.”
“Our role is that we were taken by surprise!” Jeff cried primly, and Ms. Dale shot him a withering glance, disgust on her face.
“Shut your mouth, you Patrian pig!” she snapped, before turning back to the warden. “Whoever is responsible is still in the control room. Radio the captain and inform her I will be taking these suspects downstairs.”
Without waiting for the flummoxed woman to respond, she raised her hand and waved us forward. The woman’s mouth worked up and down a few times, as though part of her wanted to object, but she didn’t stop us as we moved past her, heading past the main stairs that would get us to the second level.
As we reached the landing, I pulled off the subvocalizer. “How many checkpoints are between here and the stairs leading to exit C?”
“Three,” Cruz replied. “But wouldn’t it be easier to keep heading down these stairs, and then—?”
I shook my head. “Once the Patrians finish the video, this place is going to explode into mayhem. They’re all on the lower levels, so it’ll be better to move on this one to avoid the panic.”
He nodded, his forehead crinkled, and then pointed down the hall. “This way,” he urged. “We’ve got about eighty feet to the next checkpoint.”
We started moving, silence stretching between us. After a moment, I leaned in toward him. “Start talking. Like you have no idea what’s going on and you’re angry about this.”
Cruz hesitated, and then began speaking. I didn’t hear a word of it; my heart was beating so hard against my ribcage that it seemed to drown out his voice. I shot a glance over my shoulder, just to make sure we were all still together, and then turned my focus on the approaching checkpoint.
A guard was waiting at the narrow gap in the sandbags, her rifle held loosely in her hands. Others rose to their feet, watching us approach, but the one at the sandbags was clearly in charge. As we approached, she held up her hand, and we drew to a stop. “Mr. Cruz, what are you doing here right now?” She flashed a curious gaze to Ms. Dale.
“No need to talk to him,” Ms. Dale announced, her mouth set in a grim line. “We found them unconscious just outside the control room. Has the captain breeched the door yet?”
The warden frowned, her eyes gazing at us with suspicion. “No, ma’am. The mechanism has been damaged.”
“I see. Well, allow us to pass, so I can escort these potential traitors downstairs as I was ordered.”
I had to give it to Ms. Dale: she exuded authority. By the time she was finished, the other woman had no reservations, and she stepped aside to allow us past her.
“Take them down the next staircase,” the woman said with a nod as we moved by her. “The contingency plan is being authorized on this level.”
“Now, really, madam! I must protest!” said Cruz, imbuing his tone with indignation. Ms. Dale’s eyes were hard as ice as she ignored him, her mask secure.
We hurried away from the checkpoint, and I was hyperaware of the eyes watching us all, not just the main warden’s, but everyone who worked there. Sweat was collecting on my chest right now, making my shirt cling to my skin. I was grateful for the coat I was wearing, in spite of its constricting nature, as it hid the stains no doubt growing on my shirt.
As soon as we were out of earshot, I grabbed Cruz, hauling him over to the doors leading to one of the VIP boxes. “What’s going on? What contingency plan?”
“I have no idea,” he replied, his voice reflecting his confusion. “Clearly something is going on, some sort of response to your video. But beyond that, I don’t know.”