Chapter 8 - Crossfire at the Plaza
Bullets ricocheted off the concrete pillar in a blinding shower of sparks as heavy tactical footsteps advanced toward us from the darkness. Returning fire with the heavy iron revolver Eleanor had given me, I squeezed the trigger blindly into the gloom, the deafening roar vibrating through my bones.
"Lucas! The terminal!" I shouted over the gunfire.
Lucas lunged forward across the open concrete, diving headfirst toward the security kiosk where the external data port glowed with a faint, pulsing blue light. He slammed the flash drive into the port, his fingers flying across the auxiliary keyboard as warning klaxons began to wail overhead, flooding the garage with harsh red emergency strobe lights.
"Upload at forty percent!" Lucas yelled back, ducking as a round punched clean through the metal casing of the kiosk.
From the shadows of the ramp, three men in black tactical gear emerged, their faces obscured by reinforced ceramic helmets. At the center strode a tall, imposing figure with a cold, scarred face—the same man who had interrogated Eleanor in the nursery just an hour before.
"End of the line, children," the leader mocked, raising his assault rifle and taking deliberate aim at Lucas's chest. "Give me the drive, and make your deaths quick."
My heart stopped. Without thinking, I stepped out from behind the pillar, raised the heavy revolver with both hands, and pulled the trigger. The bullet struck the leader’s shoulder, spinning him violently to the side and throwing his shot wide.
"Upload complete!" Lucas roared triumphantly, ripping the flash drive from the port just as the tactical team regrouped and leveled their weapons toward us.
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A deafening roar echoed through the parking garage as heavy steel security shutters slammed down automatically from the ceiling, sealing the entire lower level and cutting off our attackers behind a wall of impenetrable alloy. At the same moment, heavy armored doors at the opposite end of the garage swung open, revealing a heavily armed squad of federal agents led by a towering man in a tailored suit—Director Vance.
"Drop your weapons!" Vance's voice boomed across the garage, echoing with absolute authority. "Federal agents! You're completely surrounded!"
