The Extinction Trials(4)

Maya stepped off the bike and staggered on wobbling legs to the lockers. When she had first toured the gym, she had fallen in love with the cycling studio, with its exposed rafters, antique brick walls, and shining wood floor. Now she barely noticed. It was just a really well-decorated torture chamber.

Outside, sirens blared. A moment later, a firetruck rumbled past the plate glass windows, red and blue lights flashing. Maya paused at her locker to watch.

When the truck was gone and the siren had faded, Maya’s friend Zoe closed her locker and said, “Guilty confession: hoping the class is full by the time I log in tonight.”

“Same,” Candice said, pulling her messenger bag on. “I’ve got two, maybe three weeks max left in me. Remind me again why we’re doing this?”

Maya, Zoe, and Candice had made the current exercise pact late one night while slightly intoxicated. At the time, it had seemed like an unquestionably good idea.

“I think,” Maya said, “it had something to do with becoming more attractive, finding a mate, and advancing life stages.”

Zoe glanced up theatrically as if contemplating. “If this is the cost of mating and advancing life stages, I’m opting out. I’m okay with being slightly overweight for the rest of my life. And single.”

A crackling laugh erupted from Maya, almost involuntarily. Her lungs hurt, she assumed from the exertion. The laugh turned to a cough, and she brought a hand up to cover her mouth. She froze when she saw the red specks. She stared for a moment in disbelief.

Candice moved closer, squinting at the red droplets on Maya’s hand.

“Hey, are you okay?”

A wave of dizziness washed over Maya. Her legs went numb. She reached out for the locker but couldn’t grip it. The floor rushed up as her vision spotted. She felt arms around her, someone saying, “Maya?”

Then muffled voices. Someone prying her eyes open. And finally:

“Call an ambulance!”





Chapter Three





The blast threw Owen against the wall.

Fire reached into the room like a hand, fingers red and orange, singeing everything they touched, racing across the floor, charring the bath mat and flowing over the lip of the tub, reaching for the girl. Her clothes burned. Her hair caught fire. Flames licked her face.

Owen’s vision spotted as he watched helplessly, willing his stunned body to move.

He bent forward and reached out with his gloved hand and stamped out the fire in her hair and clothes.

“External speaker on,” he said between gasps. “Can you hear me?”

Her eyelids lifted slightly, revealing bloodshot, watery eyes and a far-away look. Her lips parted, but no words came.

Another explosion rocked the apartment.

Owen leaned forward, hovering over her, his core muscles straining under the suit’s weight.

No fire seeped into the room this time.

He was sure then about what the explosion had been: the apartment door had blown open. Pressure—or an explosion—in the hall had been strong enough to take it off its hinges. The building shouldn’t have let that happen. It should be suppressing any fires, and venting any pressure and smoke to the roof.

There was something very wrong here.

“Hang in there,” he said through the suit speaker. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

The girl closed her eyes as Owen lifted her and ran back to the living room.

As he suspected, the outer door to the apartment was gone. In the living room window, there was a gaping hole where it had exited the unit. Fire raged in the hallway, sucking oxygen from the opening.

Cole sat on the floor, blinking.

“Central, I need multiple evacs at 1107. Stat.”

No response came.

Cole pushed up on his legs and staggered over, mouth moving but no sound coming over Owen’s radio.

“Cole, can you hear me?”

The younger man just stared. His chest was heaving, from nerves or exhaustion or both. He reached up to pull his helmet off, but Owen reached out, caught his hand, and mouthed, No. They needed the helmets and the suits more than they needed to communicate.

“Any firebots, do you copy?”

Silence again.

Owen mentally rifled through the options. He needed to get to the window and flag an evac drone. Still holding the girl in his arms, he marched over and peered out, expecting to see one or more of the hovering monstrous drones, arms outstretched, waiting.

But none were there.

What he did see shocked him.

And terrified him.

The city was burning.

Fires consumed every building in sight, raging behind glass and bursting through windows and sending black plumes into the sky. Apartment buildings, office buildings, stores—they were all burning. How? It was impossible. This couldn’t be real. For a moment, he almost felt listless, the weight of the girl lying limp in his arms gone, his limbs wavering. His gaze drifted down to the eight-story brick building across the alley. It was burning too, but the roof was clear. Its vents hadn’t worked either.

Movement at the door caught Owen’s attention, snapping him out of the haze. A firebot sauntered into the room on four charred legs.

“Firebot, we need evac—”

The bot lifted an arm and sprayed sticky white fire suppressant. It hit Cole directly in the faceplate, blinding him.