After just a few minutes of quaking underneath the desk, the sounds grew less frequent and less violent. All the frantic footsteps had vanished and were replaced with a few calm footfalls. Karl had almost failed to notice the growing silence, content to nearly pass out from the panic.
“Do you hear that?” Maynard asked. His voice had to fight past the static in Karl’s head to be heard.
What? Karl thought once his thoughts slowed enough to.
As soon as he asked, he could make out what the I.I. was indicating. There were loud bangs, but not explosions. One came after the other, with about thirty seconds between each. Karl leapt when a firearm discharged, but he still couldn’t understand what he was listening to.
What’s going on? he asked.
“They’re checking the rooms,” Maynard guessed. “All of them.”
The relaxation in Karl’s muscles was fleeting as he took in Maynard’s words.
They’re going to find me.
“Maybe they won’t if you stay still,” Maynard said.
Karl ignored the comment. They’re going to find me.
His body froze while his mind tried to think of a plan. It was like the wheels in his brain were spinning out over the pavement, failing to move even an inch. Like a car in with the parking brake on.
“You’re right. You’ve got to move,” Maynard told him after a little thought of his own. “Get out from under the desk.”
“I can’t,” the psychologist spoke aloud.
“Yes, you can,” Maynard insisted. “Now move!”
To his surprise, the muscles in his arms and legs responded to his commands and started to pull him out from the little cubby. He stopped and almost retreated back in when another gunshot ripped through the air, but Maynard convinced him to continue.
What now?
“Just hold on,” Maynard replied. “Let me try something.”
The moments that followed seemed to flow at such a slow pace that Karl could no longer distinguish seconds from minutes, or minutes from hours. He felt the sweat bead out from his hairline while he waited.
Suddenly, Maynard came back. “I’m in,” he said.
You’re in? Karl thought. What does that mean?
“I have all eyes. Wow, I—I didn’t even know I could do this!”
Do what?!
“I’m in the security system. I can see all of the camera feeds at once, as well as perimeter and ID data,” Maynard said.
What? How did you do that? Karl asked.
“I dunno, I just sort of… jumped,” Maynard replied.
Jumped?
“I’m not sure anything I can say will help you understand it better than that,” Maynard said. “It’s like an eagle explaining to a horse what flight feels like. But I’ve got control. And the hallway is clear.”
You’re sure?
“Trust me,” Maynard said. “There’s no one in the hall. Get up.”
And Karl did.
With all the will he could muster into his uneasy muscles, the psychologist crawled from under his desk and moved to the door. He reached out and grabbed the knob, then hesitated.
“It’s okay. Open it,” Maynard said.
Karl threw the door open with a bit more force than he’d intended, wincing at the rattle the frame made when the door hit the wall. At the I.I.’s reassurance, however, he was able to continue.
“Take the left,” Maynard said.
Left, Karl echoed. Left goes to the lobby.
“That’s right.”
We’re just going to go out the front door?
“That’s right.”
Karl inched along the wall, perhaps slower than Maynard desired, but he couldn’t help his terrified caution. He’d seen his father and his friends shoot guns when he was a kid, but had never had any interest in it himself. Somehow, the gunshots seemed so much louder now than they had back then. Maybe because they were being aimed at him and his colleagues. Maybe because blood had been spilled.
The psychologist stopped in his tracks when he turned the corner and found a dead body. With a few gags and gasps, he managed to sit still and recognize the corpse as the young man from Kuwait who had joined the lab last spring. He turned away once his gaze caught the whites of the body’s cold, dead eyes.
“Keep going,” Maynard said.
I can’t, Karl replied.
“You have to.”
They’re dead. They’re all dead. There’s nothing I can do.
“That’s right. So keep moving.”
Somehow, Karl managed to find the strength to peel his stare away from the dead Kuwaiti kid and pick himself back up to standing height. With some effort, he slid against the wall on his shoulder, taking each step like there were lead weights attached to his ankle. Even the I.I.’s coaxing couldn’t spur him along faster.
“Wait,” Maynard said.
Karl stopped dead in his tracks. He perked his head up in order to hear around himself better, but his pulse seemed to pound out any silence in his ears.
“There’s some movement up ahead,” Maynard said.
Where? Karl asked.
“It’s a closet on your right,” Maynard said. “Someone’s coming out into the hall!”
Before the psychologist could react, the closet door had opened and closed. From it emerged not a gunman in full Kevlar, but an older Indian woman in a lab coat.
That’s Sada, Karl thought.
“Who?”
She’s one of the neurologists!
“Karl?” Sada whispered, squinting through the dark. She was reaching out to feel along the wall.
“It’s me, Sada,” Karl said.
“What’s happening? Are we going to die?” she asked. Her eyes grew wide with terror.
“No, Sada,” Karl said. “We’re going to get out of here.”
Without a moment’s pause, a small crunch came from down the hallway. Karl turned to see a bit of light wash onto the carpet, accentuating the fluorescent lights in the corridor where they poured over the walls.
“Freeze!” a man bellowed.
The light pivoted to shine right in Karl and Sada’s faces. The scientists blinked as the man, hidden in the gloom beyond his flashlight, shouted at them.
“Hands on your head!”
“Do it,” Maynard said.
I was planning to! Karl retorted.
The two scientists obeyed their orders, shivering with panic.
“Names!” the gunman barked.
The two scientists spoke at almost the same time.
“Sada Bedi.”
“Karl Terrace!”
The barrel of the gunman’s rifle shifted slightly to the right of Karl before opening fire. Bullets ripped into Sada at least half a dozen times, a terrible look of shock
