Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Laurel nodded. “We’re going to make a directional blast. Controlled. Somewhat.” She reached for a mop bucket that was lightweight plastic, warped slightly from age, and tore off the handle. Then she grabbed a roll of foil and a box of steel wool pads. She shredded the foil and packed it into the base with the wool, pouring in a shallow layer of descaler. The chemical stench bit immediately into the air.
Viv coughed once and covered her nose with her sleeve.
“Aluminum and acid. Unstable gas production,” Laurel explained, working fast. “It’ll heat and build. When we add the peroxide, the whole thing kicks.”
Kohnex stared. “How do you know this stuff ?”
“I read.” Laurel didn’t look up. “Now give me that bottle.”
He handed her the peroxide. She poured half of it over the mixture. It hissed, immediately bubbling. Foam climbed over the aluminum, slow at first, then racing.
“Ammonia is last,” Abigail said.
Laurel had to hurry. “Seal it up.”
They slammed the lid on the bucket and duct-taped it shut with a roll from the shelf. Laurel tilted it sideways, pressed the taped spout directly against the bottom edge of the door, and lined it up with the lock assembly.
“Everybody go to the back far corner and cover your ears,” Laurel said quietly.
They obeyed.
Laurel twisted the spray cap off the ammonia and dumped it through a small cut she’d made in the lid with a rusted paint scraper. She sealed the hole with pressure from her palm, counted to five, then scrambled back.
The bucket swelled with its plastic creaking and deforming.
Then it blew.
Chapter 37
The bucket detonated with a wet, concussive crack. It wasn’t quite an explosion, not quite a chemical rupture, but something messier and louder than it should have been in a space that small. The air recoiled. The door shuddered violently in its frame, its metal at the base flaring outward in a warped curl. Smoke hissed out in thick gray ribbons, sharp and acidic.
Laurel’s ears rang, her equilibrium listing sideways, but she didn’t wait for the world to steady.
She surged forward, grabbed the handle, and tore the door open. It resisted, metal warped just enough to fight her, but she forced it. The hallway beyond glowed sickly under flickering fluorescents. “Viv, behind me. Tim, follow her. Abigail, rear guard with your eyes open.”
She kept her tone controlled, clipped, and cold. There was no time for comfort. No time for fear. They fell into formation. No alarms blared, and there was no sound beyond their footsteps and the low hum of fluorescent lights. Either the explosion hadn’t registered outside the storage room, or the entire lab had been built to hide noise.
Probably the latter.
Laurel led them fast down the corridor, past sealed labs and clean rooms, her boots echoing on the concrete. They climbed the stairs two at a time, reached the main vestibule, and ran outside into the rain.
Laurel turned to Abigail. “Go. I’m sure you can hotwire a car. Take Vexler’s Chevy and get help.” She nudged Viv toward the car and met Abigail’s gaze, making sure she had her sister’s full attention. “Keep them safe.”
“I’ll stay and help you,” Kohnex panted. Rain streaked the blood on his face.
“No. Go protect them,” Laurel said, pushing him off balance just enough to send him moving. “Get help.”
She pivoted and ran back inside, hustled to the emergency cabinet bolted into the corridor wall, and ripped the fire ax free from its brackets. The metal protested with a sharp screech, as if warning her this was a one-way decision. Her hand adjusted on the handle until the grip locked into her palm like it belonged there.
She couldn’t let them finish filling the canisters and possibly escape.
Running down the stairs, her boots struck the concrete in hard, purposeful strides. Hitting the bottom, she turned left and advanced down the hallway.
Her fingers tightened around the ax.
The door to the secondary lab hung slightly open. She didn’t stop to listen or wait for backup that wasn’t coming.
She stepped in.
Fitz stood inside near the center table, hunched over something. The harsh ceiling lights cast jagged angles across his back and shoulders. His hands worked quickly, fingers twitching over a small black box in front of him that appeared slick, mechanical, and humming with silent energy. Not the canister. Wires ran from it to something on the counter behind him. A detonator? A secondary device?
“Hey,” she said.
He turned fast, just beginning to register the threat when she closed the distance.
She swung the ax handle and hit his skull with a blunt, sickening crack, just above the temple, careful not to cut him with the blade. His body dropped straight down, knees buckling, arms falling limp at his sides. He collapsed in a heap, his head smacking the floor once more on impact.
She didn’t watch him fall.
Didn’t check for breath.