Time Bomb(20)

Metal groaned again.

The desk leg she was holding moved. Everything around her was moving, and now there was enough light that she could see the large metal filing cabinet looming above her head.

The desk leg trembled. She kept her grip, barely, as it jolted to a stop, but other desks around it were moving, and the cabinet above started to tilt.

“Help me!”

The cabinet was going to come down. She was going to be crushed.

Everything creaked and moaned and shuddered, and she did the only thing she could do to keep from dying as the metal cabinet started to fall. Diana closed her eyes, and, feeling the scream build in her throat, she let go.





Tad





— Chapter 19 —


“HELLO?” TAD YELLED, hoping there was someone around to hear him. “I’m stuck in here!” He listened hard for a response. Any response. The smell of smoke was growing stronger. Holy hell.

“Hello?” he yelled again. “Anyone out there?”

No one yelled back. All he could hear was that idiotic fire alarm. As if everyone trapped in this hole didn’t know they were in trouble.

“Hello!” Still no answer.

The fire alarm stopped screaming.

That should be a good sign, right? He tried to tell himself that someone who knew what they were doing had shut it off.

Only the quiet made it all worse. Now he could hear his breathing coming fast and shallow and the dripping of water from above. The water was no longer pouring out. Just drip, drip, dripping. The sound of each drop made him clench his teeth.

And the smell of smoke was getting stronger.

He listened harder for the sound of voices. Nothing. Just water and a creaking sound of something metal swaying somewhere. The same kind of creaking noise his swing set used to make.

Creak. Creak. Drip. Drip. Creak. Creak. Drip. Drip. This was all like something out of a slasher flick. And in those movies, the guy in the Goodwill dress shoes and screwed-up fancy tux always died.

“Be calm. Be cool,” Tad said aloud, because it was better hearing his own voice than the dripping and creaking and the creepy silence. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Something smashed on top of the table he was crouched beneath, and Tad scrambled out from under it. Time to get out of here.

Tad pushed himself to his feet and wiped his wet, dirty hands on his legs. The crisp crease of the rented tux pants seemed stranger than the broken room.

He looked toward the window. Maybe he could see if the Mustang was out there and if Frankie was trapped in this mess with him. If so . . .

The floor groaned. A section near the window cracked. Yeah—looking for the Mustang would have to wait. He had to get out of this room first.

He spun and looked around for the exit. There were broken tables and tiles and random stuff piled in front of the closed door.

Tad held his breath with the first few steps, waiting to fall through the floor at any minute. But it held. By the time he reached the area near the door and started climbing over the broken tables and chairs, he was feeling more confident. He was getting out of this mess.

Tad turned the door handle and pushed. The door opened three inches, then came to an abrupt stop.

Damn. Something must be blocking it.

Well, if football taught him anything, it was how to hit something hard. He set his feet, took a deep breath, rammed the door with his shoulder, and fell face first into the door frame when the door moved.





Cas





— Chapter 20 —


OW. CAS CRACKED HER ANKLE on something buried in the rubble as she looked for whatever had made the sound she had just heard.

“Hello?” Was it just a falling piece of tile, or was someone there?

The school had been mostly empty when she had climbed the stairs to the third floor that morning. There had been three or four people on the second floor. A guy had been arguing with someone in a room near the stairs on this floor. Maybe it was one of them she was hearing.

She went still. There was the sound again. A chirping ring that was almost impossible to hear under the screaming of the fire alarm.

It was her phone.

She spotted her bag peeking out from under an overturned chair and scrambled to get to it.

She smacked her knee and bit back a yelp as she stumbled over the debris and reached for her bag. Got it. She yanked it toward her and almost lost her balance again when it snagged on a bent desk leg.

Cas tugged the strap and pushed at the desk. It was stuck. Really? Cas pulled harder on the desk, lost her grip, and fell backwards.

She shrieked as she crashed into the broken tile and boards, pulling the desk she’d been trying to move with her.

Finally, everything stilled and her bag was free.

Gulping back tears, she picked up the bag and spotted the glint of metal beneath it. Heart racing, she squatted down and grabbed the gun. The one that had been in her hands when the world blacked out. Shoving it into her bag, she heard the chirping sound again. Cas dug into the side pocket and was relieved to find her phone. She hadn’t lost it or the gun. And her mother was calling.

“Mom?” she yelled as the fire alarm continued to shriek.

“Cas? Where are you? Are you outside the school?”

“I’m in the art room.” Or what was left of it. She looked at the desks and broken ceiling boards that she would have to move in order to get out.