Where do we go, Violet? Solomon subvocalized.
I looked over at Solomon, who was also sweating, and pulled up my handheld. I dimmed the screen as much as I could and cupped my hand around it to hide as much of the glare as possible.
There were only two ways out of this area—the way we came in, and the door at the back of the building. I was scrolling through the other blueprint images, trying to find anything that would help us, when Solomon nudged me.
Looking over to where he was pointing, I saw a gray vent at the base of the wall, about ten feet away. Immediately, images of the vents in The Green’s facility flashed through my head. I looked over at him, giving him an emphatic no in the form of a headshake.
I turned back to the handheld, my frustration growing with every swipe of my finger.
I paused, and swiped back a few images. There was something labeled “ldr” along the far wall behind us. At first, I had thought it was the letters “IDR”, but then it clicked. It was a ladder, leading up to the roof.
I tapped Solomon on the shoulder and made the hand signals for “follow me”. He nodded, adjusting his grip on the rifle. Taking a deep breath, I straightened up enough to peek out from over the top of the crate. The immediate area was clear.
Moving cautiously, I squat-walked down rows of shelves containing boxes. At the end of the first row, I peered around the corner. There was nobody down the next row, and I could see the ladder just ahead of us. I turned back to Solomon and nodded before spinning around the corner, my gun held up.
I moved quickly, thoroughly checking each row we passed before advancing to the next. I felt the press of time and looked at my watch just as we got to the ladder. It had been four minutes since the last conversation with Owen. I had no idea what was going on with him, but hopefully he took the initiative and would blow the distraction charge soon.
Assuming he wasn’t dead by now.
I pushed that thought away quickly and placed my back against a shelf full of boxes. I nodded to Solomon. He secured his weapon with a quick tug to the strap, tightening it to his back, and then sucked in his breath. Immediately, he faded from view, leaving his gun and bag floating in midair. I cringed, but it was the best we could do at the moment. Hopefully, no one would notice.
I counted to ten, trying to give him enough time to get up the ladder before I started my ascent. I envied his control over the suit, and dreaded having to use my own.
After enough time had passed, I slung the rifle over my back. I moved to the ladder quickly, and was just in the process of contracting my muscles when a warden came around the corner, his flashlight cutting over me.
A small sound of alarm escaped my lips, and I whipped around, grabbing the rungs of the ladder and climbing as the man let out a gasp.
I continued to clench my muscles, and was several rungs up when the first gunshot exploded about three feet to the left of me, concrete exploding and spraying me with dust and shrapnel. I narrowed my eyes and continued to climb, when another shot sounded, also going wide.
I felt a stinging in my side as a line of fire exploded by my ribs, a third gunshot going off. I looked up at the twenty feet of ladder I still had to climb before I reached the top. A chill rushed down my spine as I realized the man’s next bullet wasn’t going to miss.
Grabbing the left side of the ladder, I swung myself to one side and brought up my gun just as he fired. The bullet impacted a space between the rungs where my chest had been. I reached around and grabbed my rifle, bringing it up—one handed—and hip fired, catching the man in the shoulder.
He fell to the ground with a scream, clutching his arm, and I dropped the rifle, letting it dangle from the strap as I scrambled the rest of the way up the ladder. By the time I was at the top, Solomon had reappeared and was holding the door open for me, waving at me to hurry up.
The sound of more guards arriving sent waves of anxiety through me. I reached up a hand to Solomon, and his hand encircled my wrist, hauling me up. I kicked at the door as I slid through it, slamming it shut with my foot.
“Much better than ventilation ducts,” I gasped, sucking the cool night air in through my lungs.
Solomon grunted in agreement as he placed his hands on my side. There was a small tear in the fabric, and I was bleeding, but fortunately, the wound was shallow. I pushed his hands away. “I’m fine,” I said, as I got up.
I had been hurt worse during martial arts training. I was pulling my gun over my shoulder when a spattering of rifle fire filled the air. After exchanging looks, Solomon and I raced over to the side of the building it had come from. The scene before us was that of a nightmare—dozens of wardens filled the yard. Their attention was on the warehouse on the other side of our building, but there were too many for us to risk a mad dash to where we had left the van.