Chapter 8 - The True Heirs
Gunfire erupted from the top of the stairwell, echoing terribly in the cavernous underground room.
Carl swore loudly, diving behind a row of heavy computer servers as bullets sparked against the metal.
I scrambled behind a thick concrete pillar, clutching the flash drive to my chest.
A dozen men in black tactical gear flooded into the laboratory, moving with deadly precision.
"Kill the traitor, secure the vault!" the lead mercenary barked.
Carl returned fire with a heavy assault rifle he had hidden beneath a desk.
The air quickly filled with thick gray smoke and the deafening roar of automatic weapons.
I curled into a ball, pressing my hands over my ears as the world exploded around me.
A stray bullet struck a pressurized oxygen tank near the medical equipment.
The resulting explosion hurled a massive piece of debris straight into the mercenaries' frontline.
In the chaos, Carl sprinted across the open floor, sliding into cover right next to me.
He was bleeding heavily from a gunshot wound in his shoulder.
"We are out of time," he gritted out, tossing a small electronic device into my lap.
"That is a remote detonator for the C4 charges wired to the structural supports of this room."
He grabbed my shoulders, leaving bloody handprints on my white shirt.
"I am going to draw their fire."
"While they are distracted, you run to the ventilation shaft behind the vault."
"Once you are in the shaft, press the button and blow this place to hell."
I stared at him in shock, realizing he was actually sacrificing himself.
"Why are you doing this?" I yelled over the gunfire.
Carl looked at me, a flicker of genuine emotion breaking through his cold facade.
"Because despite all the lies, those quiet afternoons playing board games with you were the only peace I've ever known."
He stood up, screaming a battle cry, and charged blindly toward the mercenaries.
I didn't hesitate.
May you like
I ran as fast as my legs could carry me toward the back wall of the laboratory.
I threw myself into the open ventilation grate just as a new wave of gunfire ripped through the air.
