Apolonia - Page 35

The corners of Cy’s mouth turned up slightly, and then he refocused, his golden eyes flitting about the room. “This way,” he said, pulling me by the arm out of the room and down the hall.

“No, this way,” I said, tugging him to the right.

His hand tightened around my arm, and he pulled me close. “If we’re going to get out of here alive, you must listen to me,” he said, looking around. “You’re attracted to danger. I feel the impulse to avoid it. Do you understand?” When I didn’t answer, he frowned. “I don’t have time to explain everything to you. You’re going to follow me.” With that, he pulled me in the opposite direction.

Not a minute later, there was shouting behind us and footsteps pounding against the metal floor.

Cy pulled me down another corridor and then another. Soon a siren blared, forcing me to press my palms against my ears. Lights along the ceiling began to turn, casting red shadows across Cyrus’s face. He jerked his head to the side, trying to listen over the piercing alarm, and then he pushed me into the closest room and against the wall, holding his finger against his mouth.

Soldiers ran past, yelling to each other over the noise. Despite the siren, my heart beat so loudly against my chest that I was scared they would hear it. For the first time, I was truly afraid of what the soldiers might do to Cyrus if they caught us. Whatever they wanted, they were determined to get, and now we both knew what they were capable of doing. Judging by the fear in his eyes, I could tell he knew his fate was bleak if he fell back into their hands.

Once the soldiers passed, Cy pulled me from the room. I struggled to keep up with his long strides. He pulled us into yet another room, this one dark and full of rusted equipment from the warehouse. The cobwebs and cool air seemed like a world away from the shiny prison.

Cy pushed a table to the center of the room and climbed on it, jumping once to pull down an air vent cover. With the cover in one hand, he jumped again, pulling himself up and out of sight. His arm shot back down through the square hole and waved for me to follow. I cautiously clambered on top of the table, but the frightening sound of standard-issue military boots plodding down the hallway made me scramble to reach Cy’s hand. His fingers trembled as they extended to their limit, and I hesitated, looking back at the door.

“Rory! Take my hand!” he said over the siren.

I jumped once, reaching for him. I wasn’t tall enough to reach. I tried again, missing by more than two inches.

Cy lowered himself further into the room, extending both arms toward me. He had no leverage to pull me up, holding on with just his legs. He was frightened and desperate, but he wouldn’t leave without me. “I will catch you, Rory. Jump!”

The footsteps were just a few feet from the door when I bent my knees and reached up with both arms. Cy hooked my fingers with his and then pulled, shooting me up through the vent like a rocket. He turned to grab the vent cover and pulled it up against the hole, sealing us in.

I began to crawl down the shaft, but Cy grabbed both of my legs and dragged me until I was next to him, wrapping both his arms around me. A flashlight beamed in and out of the slits of the vent and then around the room. The legs of the table we climbed onto scraped against the floor when a soldier bumped against it.

“Clear!” he said, motioning the other soldiers to follow. They ran from the room to search the others.

Cy nodded. “They’re gone,” he whispered. “Follow me.”

We crawled on our bellies down the shaft. It wasn’t long before I was puffing, struggling to keep up with him. When soldiers were below, we would stop, waiting until they were out of earshot. The shaft was stuffy and dank and had me feeling borderline claustrophobic.

“Cy,” I whispered, sweat dripping from my face, “I can’t.”

Cy pushed up, and a small opening formed above him, letting the rain shower his face. “This way,” he said, crawling through the hole.

I made my way to the opening, and once again Cy reached back his hand, waiting for me to grab it. In the next moment, I was on the roof of the warehouse, overlooking the lights of our town, not ten miles away. The rain was freezing, and the sweat on my skin was cooling quickly in the cold night air. I cussed myself for leaving my sweater behind.

Cy pulled off his fleece pullover and handed it to me. “Put this on,” he said, looking around, planning his next move.

“Who are those people?” I asked, slipping the soft black fleece over my head. It was dry but wouldn’t be for long.

“CIA…maybe one or two branches of military,” he said, distracted.

I frowned. “I know that.”

He turned, confused by my reply. “Then, why did you ask?”

“Why did the CIA kidnap you?”

Cy looked to his watch. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“It’s broken.”

“There are more pressing matters than your broken watch, don’t you think?” I said, pointing to the vent.

Cyrus looked around in thought and then nodded. “Come on.”

The fire escape was guarded, so Cy led me to the opposite side of the building. An Army truck was parked nearby, but we were too far to jump. Cyrus peered back at me, making a decision, and then he frowned apologetically.

“I’m sorry,” he said, covering my mouth. “Don’t scream.”

I struggled at first, but then he lifted me into his arms and ran full speed to the edge, leaping the incredible distance to the truck. We landed in the center and then rolled off, hitting the ground. With me still tucked in his arms, Cy pinned us under the truck and waited.

“What are we doing?” I said through his hand.

“Waiting for signs that we were seen.”

“Ow!” I said.

He began to search my body with his eyes. “What is it?”

“My elbow,” I moaned, lifting up my arm. My shirt was quickly becoming a mess of dirt and blood.

Cy uttered something that sounded like a curse as he pulled up my sleeve to get a better look. He used his fingers to feel the bone and then shook his head. “I don’t think it’s broken,” he whispered. “Can you move it?”

I nodded, gently extending and flexing my arm. Cy’s pullover was ripped. I pulled the tear apart with my fingers to get a good look at my arm. The flesh had been scraped away, and gravel was embedded in the meaty muscle. “You were right,” I said quietly. “Turns out I do have blood.”

Cy rolled his eyes and ripped the bottom part of his T-shirt, tying it around my wound. “This should do until I can clean it. Let’s go.”

Tags: Jamie McGuire Science Fiction
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