Constant Fear

CHAPTER 44

Everyone was in the pit. It was crowded, and Jake almost landed on one of the kids. It was too dark to see which one. Whoever it was scurried off into a corner like a terrified animal.

The blackness had to go. Jake flicked on his headlamp and whirled in the direction of the mewling teens. All the color had drained from their faces. David and Rafa put fingers in their ears, as if that could fix their damaged hearing. Their uniforms were in shambles-dirty, torn, stained. They stared vacantly, each one looking utterly lost and wholly terrified. They huddled together in a corner of the pit as far from the three corpses as possible.

“Through the door,” Jake said. “It’s unlocked. Hurry!”

Nobody moved, paralyzed possibly by hearing loss, but more likely by fear.

Jake lunged at the door and pulled it open with force. He grabbed the closest person to him, David, and stuffed him through the compact opening.

“Go and run!”

One by one, the kids stooped to get low enough. Like Alice crawling through the small door to enter Wonderland, they vanished into the dark tunnel beyond. As they departed, Jake stood below the pit opening and fired round after round from his AK-47 into the air. Shell casings plunked down like metallic raindrops. Bullets fired from his gun hit the ceiling and probably nothing else. Jake’s only goal was to deter the others from trying to follow. Eventually somebody would, though. It was the only way out of the auditorium, unless they somehow managed to break down one of the exit doors.

Jake went through two more magazines while keeping anybody from attempting to enter the pit. He was down to just two magazines of ammo. Sixty more shots, plus his pistols.

Jake looked back in time to see the last kid enter the tunnel. It was Andy, and Jake wasn’t at all surprised that his son waited for the others.

Jake stopped shooting, secured his weapon, and dove through the door to the tunnel like a base runner sliding headfirst into second. From a pocket on his chest rig, Jake retrieved the key and spent precious seconds getting the tunnel entrance locked.

The kids had not ventured far. They huddled together for comfort, for contact. They were safe, but that could change in a heartbeat. Jake heard footsteps descend the metal stairs. Death was coming.

Jake said, “Go. Go. Hurry!”

Jake’s headlamp fell on Andy. He could see his son’s puzzled and awed expression.

“Dad?” Andy said.

“No time,” Jake answered.

More footsteps bounded down the stairs. How many sets Jake couldn’t say. He had made a body count in his head: one in the bathroom, three down in the pit, and five confirmed kills in the auditorium mêlée. How many did that leave? He would find out from Andy later, but not now. Now they had to run.

“Go! Go! Go!” Jake yelled to the pack of teens.

“It’s dark down there,” Hilary said.

“Start running!” Jake ordered.

A gunshot blast came from behind the closed metal door. They were going to shoot it open. Handguns would be underpowered. But these men had high-caliber weapons at their disposal that could blow the hinges off the door. Jake had killed a guy with a shotgun, and that was an ideal weapon for the task.

The gunshot sent Rafa running like a starter pistol had gone off. Smart kid. He squeezed past the others and, soon enough, Hilary fell into step behind him. The pack became a line. But it was dark, as Hilary noted, and there were pipes and wires and other things to trip over.

Jake heard a smack that sounded like bone on concrete. David cried out in the darkness. Jake heard another loud bang; this time, it was Pixie who yelled. These kids were literally running blind, Jake realized.

Rather than waste time fishing a flashlight from his backpack, Jake took out one of the flares he’d stored in a pocket on his chest rig. He undid the top and it became a torch. He passed it up to Andy, who passed it along to Hilary, who got it to Rafa. Then Jake sent another flare up the human chain. All this happened as they ran.

The tunnel glowed ruby red and sparkled like a mobile fireworks display. Smoke from the burning flares fanned back and filled Jake’s mouth with the metallic taste of potassium and magnesium. Smoke began to fill the tunnel as well, ironically making it more difficult to see. But no one wanted to abandon the light for the alternative.

There were grunts but no words spoken, and footfalls, and lots of heavy breathing, but nothing close to conversation. This was all about escape. They were a line of seven people hunched over, weaving down the Stygian tunnel.

Behind them, Jake heard another blast. If they got the door open now, they’d be dead. Just like that. This place offered no cover. They would fire high-capacity weapons blindly down the tunnel and hit something. Guaranteed. Jake could return fire, but he was last in line, so he’d be shot first. Then what? One by one, they would gun down these kids. Simple as that.

Another blast hit the door.

Up ahead, Rafa was first to reach the branch off the main tunnel. He stopped there and yelled back, “Which way?”

Jake paused to think. They could take that branch to the staircase, then spill out into the janitor’s closet. From there, it would be a trek up to the first floor; if they crossed The Quad without getting shot, maybe they could reach the forest. Jake processed that scenario in a flash. There would be congestion getting up the stairs and through the closet. Delays.

Farther ahead was a crawl space. It would act as a shield. If they could get through that crawl space, they could take the exit by the Terry Science Center. Up and out, and then into the woods from the basement exit. If Jake could send their pursuers off on the wrong course, it would buy even more time.

Jake yelled, “Go. Keep running straight!”

As he ran, Jake unsheathed the knife strapped to his ankle and used it to cut a long swath of fabric from his shirt. At the tunnel branch, he stopped and fixed the cloth to a jagged piece of stone that jutted out from the passageway. The cloth looked like an arrow pointing the direction to go. Jake lit another flare, carried it partway down the branch so the smell of smoke and burning magnesium would be there as well, and then he extinguished the flame with his boot. He left the flare on the ground like a discarded cigarette. His hope was that these killers would mistakenly go up the metal stairs and chase their prey into the janitor’s closet.

Jake returned to the main tunnel. “Keep as quiet as possible,” he called in a low voice.

A short time later, Jake could see the ragtag line of escapees up ahead. Sound carried here, and Jake heard another gunshot in the distance, followed by an excited yell and a loud bang. The pit door was open. They were coming.

Gunshots came rapid fire. Bullets sank into the darkness. Some careened off concrete pipes, while others ineffectively sprayed the tunnel floor and walls. Jake couldn’t see any flashes, which meant they couldn’t see any flares. The whole line found a sudden burst of speed.

Jake was running at a sprint and didn’t notice a figure down on the ground in front of him. It was pure agility that allowed him to hurdle Solomon without landing on the boy’s head, but Jake’s right boot kicked Solomon’s leg hard. Airborne, Jake outstretched like he was making a diving catch. When he hit the ground, the tactical helmet Jake wore bounced off the concrete. He heard a horrible crunching glass sound, and Jake knew his night vision optics were no more. At least Jake still had his headlamp.

Solomon lay on the ground close by and may have tripped over a pipe or his own feet. Jake stood and helped Solomon find his footing. Behind them, the gunfire continued unrelentingly. Only the angle of the tunnel was keeping them safe.

“Get up! Get up!” Jake yelled.

Solomon staggered to his feet and Jake held on to the boy’s hand, dragging him forward. Up ahead, Jake saw the kids gathered in front of what he knew was a tight crawl space into the next section of the tunnel system. They were unsure of what to do. Jake let go of Solomon’s hand, but glanced back to make sure the slower boy kept pace. The flares in Hilary and Rafa’s hands hissed like a snake pit, expelling pungent smoke. Jake took the flares and extinguished them with his boot. He kept his headlamp on, but the flares were more likely to give them away.

The sound of gunfire down the tunnel sputtered and then stopped altogether. The kids were covered in filth and grime, breathing hard, stooped over, hands on their knees. Jake shushed them to better hear. He was counting on his bit of misdirection to send their pursuers off course, and his plan appeared to have worked. It was impossible to hear footsteps from this far away, but the quiet was a telling indicator.

Jake removed his backpack. He took an extra flashlight from within and powered it on. He handed the flashlight to Andy, along with a couple of flares.

“Andy knows these tunnels,” Jake whispered. “He takes the lead. This is it for light, so going forward hold hands. Andy, call out any obstacles, but do it quietly. Get out the Terry Science Center exit. Hit the woods and start calling for help. Understood?”

Jake shone his headlamp on six terrified faces and got confirmation from each.

“We have time,” Jake said. “Don’t rush. A broken bone or even a twisted ankle here could be real trouble, so use your flares if you have to and go slow. Stick together and you’ll make it out alive. Now go.”

Andy reached out and took his father’s hand. “Dad-”

“Not now, son. You’re the leader here. Get everyone to safety. That’s all that matters. Here, take this.” Jake pressed the Ruger into Andy’s hand.

“How are you feeling?” Jake asked. “Your diabetes, I mean.”

Andy said, “Better now,” and he gave Hilary a look. “I’m so sorry, Dad. I’m so sorry.”

Jake put his hand on Andy’s shoulder “These guys, who are they?”

“Drug cartel from Mexico,” David answered.

Jake gave Andy a hard look that said the explanation could wait.

“How many total?” Jake asked.

Andy said, “Twelve,” without hesitating.

Jake did the math again. Nine confirmed dead left three still alive. “Don’t hesitate if you have to use this,” Jake said. He squeezed Andy’s hand around the butt of the pistol.

Andy examined the weapon in his hand before he stashed it in the waistband of his jeans. He gave his father a quick embrace. Then Andy got low to the ground. “Follow me,” he said to the others as he crawled through the opening on his stomach.

One by one, the kids wormed their way through the narrow crawl space that linked the tunnels between the Academy Building and the Terry Science Center. Jake would go last.

He removed his helmet. Sure enough, the optics were trashed; the glass was cracked and not functioning. Jake ditched the helmet and his hearing protection entirely. He stuffed his backpack through the opening, which was two feet high and not much wider. It was a tight fit for an average-sized person, but it also provided lots of thick concrete that would stop any bullets if they came this way. He hoped that wouldn’t happen. By the time the cartel men realized the mistake, everyone would be long gone.

Jake checked his ammo for the rifle. One mag was already loaded in his gun, and the other he had strapped to his battle belt. He still had the Glock. With any luck, none of it would be needed.

The last in line to go through was Solomon. The boy shot Jake a frantic look.

“You got this,” Jake said.

Solomon got low to examine the opening. He pulled back. Andy poked his head through.

“I’m coming,” Solomon said.

“Go!” Jake said to Andy. “I’ll stay with Solomon.”

Andy nodded and then he was gone.

Solomon put his head into the opening, but again the narrow fit unnerved him, so he slunk out and turned himself around. He took a long time to calm down. Too long.

By now, Andy and the others were already out of earshot. Probably out of the building.

“I’ll back in,” Solomon said.

Jake kept his headlamp on Solomon’s sweat-drenched face. He watched Solomon’s feet get through, next his legs, then his hips, and then Solomon stopped moving entirely. Jake heard the boy grunt and struggle, but he didn’t move another inch. Solomon began to hyperventilate and Jake’s headlamp illuminated every crevice on the boy’s panic-stricken face. The part of Solomon’s body Jake could actually see squirmed in a frantic wiggle.

“Help! Help! I’m stuck!” Solomon screamed.

Jake’s eyes went wide with horror. The boy’s screams would give them away, for sure. Jake crouched in front of Solomon and said in a calm voice, “Take it easy, buddy. Take it easy. You’ve got to keep quiet.”

“Help!” Solomon screamed again. “I’m stuck! I’m stuck!”

Panic. Pure, terrified panic.

Jake couldn’t see through the opening; Solomon blocked the way. But he could hear just fine. He put his hands on Solomon’s shoulders and gave a shove. The boy didn’t budge. Next, Jake took hold of Solomon’s wrists and gave a hard yank. No movement in either direction. Solomon was lodged in there good. Most of his body was through the opening. If Jake could get to the other side, he could probably pull him through. Of course he couldn’t reach his legs because Solomon’s body blocked the way.

Solomon kept screaming. “Please! Get me out! Get me out!”

Jake put his hand over Solomon’s mouth to quiet him. “Easy there, easy,” he said in the whisper he wanted Solomon to mimic. “You’ve got to be quiet. You don’t want them to hear you.”

Solomon was hearing none of it. If anything, his pleas and cries for help grew only louder. Amidst the racket, Jake heard another sound, one as terrifying as gunshots-footsteps.

They were coming.