Cloud Dust: RD-1 (R-D #1)(27)

In the distance, I heard sirens, but they wouldn't arrive in time for some. I hoped they'd arrive in time for us.

*

Corinne

If Rafe hadn't been beside me, I might not have fought off the panic attack. People's lives depended on me, and I couldn't let my fear take over. The screams we'd heard at first stopped after the third blast. Reminding myself that I'd have to worry about that later, I continued my race down the steps, Rafe a half-step behind.

At the bottom of the steps lay another door. The Prime Minister likely had the combination for the keypad beside it. I didn't wait for him. Flipping the cover down, I lifted my hand to punch in numbers.

"Wait," he shouted. "You only get two tries."

I got it on the first try. If I survived the night, I might not be welcome back in England again, but that wasn't my biggest worry. My biggest worry was getting the people with me out of this fiasco alive. I'd been in a similar situation before, and was powerless to do anything.

This time, I hoped things would be different.

Once we were through the door, it shut behind us, rearming itself. At least that was one barrier between us.

Yes, we had followers. I just didn't know how far back they were.

A musty, concrete tunnel and another set of stairs lay beyond us. We fled down those steps the moment we heard gunshots. They were shooting at the doorknob behind us, attempting to gain access that way and bypassing the alarm. Not good.

"This tunnel will lead us to the Waterloo exit," the Prime Minister said, breaking into a trot and attempting to take control of our exodus.

"They're waiting for you at the Waterloo exit," I said, stopping him short, his guards sliding to a stop beside him.

"You don't know a thing about any of this," the Prime Minister huffed.

"If I were you, I'd listen to Corinne," Rafe warned.

"Sir, it would be better if we all paid attention to her," August said from somewhere behind. From the sound of things, our pursuers had broken through the door. We didn't have much time.

"Then what do you suggest? There's a warren of offices and shelters beyond this door and throughout this space. We can lock ourselves in and wait for rescue," the Prime Minister pointed out.

"They won't get here in time," I said. "It's your choice, obviously—I can't force you to believe me or do anything I say. I'm just trying to get us out of here alive."

"Then get us out of here alive. I warn you, if you're in on this, England will prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law."

"I have no doubt," I said dryly. "Let's go."

I punched in a second code to get us through the door, which August shut behind us. We already heard running footsteps; it wouldn't be long before this door would be treated to the same abuse as the last one.

I knew where the door leading to the Waterloo exit was. We weren't going near it. Instead, I led our group in the opposite direction, stopping in front of an air vent.

"No," the PM shook his head as I knelt to open it.

"Yeah. We're going a different way. This shaft leads to another vent, connected to the Citadel beneath the Ministry of Defense. After that, we'll change course again."

*

"Madam President, I hate to interrupt," President Sanders' Chief of Staff knocked softly on the Oval Office door.

"Hal?" the President looked up from the papers on her desk. She no longer saw them; they were merely an excuse—a decoy, to make it look as if she were busy. While she and the Vice President hadn't been close friends, they respected one another. The VP's loss was a terrible blow—to her and to the country.

"I've had word from Britain," Hal Prentice said. "Ten Downing has been attacked. They're pulling bodies out of the building—it was hit three times by rockets and partially burned. There's no word on the Secretary of State or the Prime Minister. It's all over the media, in addition to the Vice President's death. The Joint Chiefs and your cabinet are on the way."

"Dear God." The President dropped her face in her hands.

*

Corinne

At least the vent was large enough to crawl through, and I was grateful the PM and the Secretary were still limber enough to do so. August and Ken made sure the vent cover was closed behind us—I didn't want our pursuers to guess right away where we'd gone.

"Corinne," Maye hissed, "How long is this f*cking vent?"

"Probably half as long as a f*cking football field," I said.

"What's your beef?" Dalton asked—he was crawling behind her.

"I don't have enough room to protect anyone in this tight space," she complained.

"I hope you won't have to," I said, ignoring the panicky timbre of her voice. It told me she was slightly claustrophobic. I wasn't about to yell at her about that. "I hate crawling anywhere in an evening dress," I added. "It sort of sucks."

"This isn't the time for chitchat," August reminded us. We shut up and kept crawling. Somewhere, far behind us, I heard the clang of the vent cover being ripped away. We crawled faster.

*

Ignoring the cramps in my back and legs, I lay flat on my belly while Rafe crawled over me to punch the vent cover off. I cringed at the sound it made as the metal clattered against tile. Rafe somersaulted out of the vent gracefully, while I crawled out like a wounded lizard dressed in an evening gown.