Chapter 35 - The Descent into Fire
"We need to move, Evelyn!" Marcus shouted over the screaming wails of the emergency klaxons. "The facility’s automated lockdown protocol has been initiated. All exterior blast doors are sealing shut!"
I didn't flinch. I reached down, grabbed Arthur Vance by the lapels of his expensive silk suit, and yanked him roughly to his feet. He was shaking now, his face pale, the terrifying realization of his total ruin finally sinking into his bones.
"You can't do this," Vance whispered, his voice trembling. "I am the state. I am the system!"
"The system is burning, Arthur," I whispered back, my eyes locking onto his with a fierce, burning intensity. "And you’re going to watch it turn to ash."
We sprinted back toward the maintenance shaft just as the heavy steel security grates at the end of the server room slammed shut with a deafening *CLANG*. Sparks showered from the overhead electrical conduits as the facility’s internal systems began to experience catastrophic power surges. The quantum relay device had initiated a complete thermal wipe of the core servers, frying every motherboard and hard drive within a hundred-foot radius.
"Through here! Move, move!" Marcus yelled, firing a single burst from his rifle into the electronic locking mechanism of a secondary emergency exit stairwell. The heavy door groaned, popped open, and we spilled out into the freezing, snow-swept mountain air just as the main wing of the bunker behind us shuddered violently.
A deep, subterranean rumble shook the earth beneath our feet. Through the falling snow, we watched as the reinforced concrete facade of the mountain facility buckled inward, a massive plume of gray smoke and orange fire erupting from the main ventilation shafts as the self-destruct sequence consumed the inner sanctum.
"Sean! Get the vehicle around!" Marcus roared into his tactical radio as the armored SUV slid to a halt beside us through the snowdrifts, its engine roaring with raw power.
We shoved Vance into the back seat, slamming the heavy armored door shut behind him. I climbed in beside him, pulling off my neural glasses and tossing them onto the floorboards as the SUV surged forward, tearing away from the burning compound and plunging back down the winding mountain pass toward Seattle.
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For the first time in seven years, the heavy weight pressing down on my chest felt lighter. The ghosts of the past—Richard, Victoria, the cold indifference of the elite—were finally being laid to rest in the fire and snow.
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