Page 55 of Hollow Trace

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Twelve minutes.

The mechanical voice looped in Quinn’s head, the math quickly stacking up. If his calculations were correct, they only had five minutes to find their way back to the main shaft before any hope of escaping Pryce’s protocol shattered.

He took a breath, calming his mind, shoving his crushing pain into a box he could open once they’d escaped. “There’s got to be a way back. Hackett didn’t follow us. He used another route. Any chance it’s back the way you just came?”

Scout shook her head. “It only leads deeper into the mountain.” She jogged ahead, scanning the next junction. “Did you try down here?”

Quinn joined her, keeping Brea in his peripheral vision. He’d noticed that Scout had given his sister her spare Beretta, which meant the situation must have gotten pretty dire. “I was going to head that way next if this direction didn’t pan out.” He nudged her. “Your gut telling you something?”

She pointed to the string of dingy lights swaying near the ceiling. “No one lights a tunnel they don’t plan on using more than once.”

A punch of pride warmed his chest. “Like I said, lead the way.”

Scout hesitated for a second, staring down the passageway as if trying to see all the way to the end — guarantee their success.

Quinn sighed. “It’s our best guess. So, stop worrying if this is gonna save us or condemn us and get us back to that damn shaft.”

With a hint of a smile, she took off, quickstepping down the tunnel, rifle at the ready. He hadn’t missed the blood on her arm, or the hits to her vest. What she’d likely got protecting Brea. A debt he’d forever owe her.

The lights flickered, temporarily plunging the corridor into utter darkness before surging back, a couple bulbs shattering as the current fluctuated, spraying glass and filament across the path. Scout kept moving, ignoring any offshoots as the passage gradually gained elevation, the temperature cooling slightly. The air thickened as smoke swirled through the tunnel, reducing the visibility to mere inches. Nothing more than the golden glow above them burning the vapor into a deep amber.

That emotionless voice began broadcasting the countdown every minute as they reached another junction, lights branching off in two directions, both filled with the same choking smoke. Scout paused, looking down both, neither revealing more than a foot of rocky floor before she angled left and picked up speed.

The path narrowed, rising sharply before leveling off, diesel exhaust and sulfur burning a line down Quinn’s throat. He watched their six, ready to fire if any of Hackett’s men suddenly appeared out of the smoke-riddled darkness when Scout stopped.

A thick, metal door barred their way, a fried keypad sparking off to one side.

She shouldered it, shaking her head. “No way this is moving without help. And we don’t have time to worry about the consequences.” She grabbed a frag, pulled the pin, then motioned them all back.

The canister spun once, resting against the door before it blew, spraying rock and dust back at them. The door heaved, metal scraping rock as it toppled inward, landing with a thundering crash.

Scout darted ahead, disappearing into the smoking remains, nothing sounding but the lingering echo of the blast. Quinn didn’t wait to see if it was clear, just grabbed Brea, tucked her behind him, and raced forward, Sig sweeping the way.

The tunnel gave way to eerie sterile glass, a series of grooves carved down the sides of a couple panels. Scout waved him on, heading for the next junction as another massive boom shook the floor beneath them. The temperature spiked. Cracks crept along several panels as the lights flickered again before stabilizing at half-strength.

Quinn recognized the first section of the west wing as Scout hurried them along, stopping just before the main airlock. She held up her fist, motioning to the multiple flashlights cutting through the gray. The collection of shadows moving within that golden smoke.

Protocol Zero activated. Thermal purge initiated in T minus eight minutes.

Scout looked at Quinn, and he waved her ahead, sticking on her six, readying for the fight as they burst through the doors, fingers caressing triggers, until Neve shouted, appearing in front of them a heartbeat later. The rest of her team materialized out of the smoke, blood staining their clothes and soot and dirt smeared across their skin.

Scout’s head tipped back, her hushed prayer of thanks reaching him as they broke into the adjoining tunnel, quickly backtracking to the main shaft. The old industrial elevator car sat a bit cockeyed, the door still open, the way they’d left it.

Coulter reached the cage first, trying the switch, jumping back when sparks erupted from the panel. Smoke curled into the air as the lights all blinked white then died. He tried again, nothing but more smoke. “Battery’s dead.”

Quinn headed for the main box on the far wall. “I’ll try to bypass it.”

Coulter joined him, the two of them ripping off panels and stripping wires. Quinn’s ribs screamed, his chest heavier than before, as if nothing was working quite right. But he pushed through. If they didn’t get the machine running in the next ninety seconds, they’d never make it to the surface before the thermal purge activated — sanitized the entire infrastructure.

Quinn tore a strip of cable out of the panel, connecting the elevator’s winch directly to a set of batteries mounted to the wall labeled as emergency backup only.

The power kicked in as a shower of blue sparks erupted from the wires and an agonizing shriek echoed through the air. The massive steel cable pulled taut, the old, rusted winch grinding under the strain, as the cart slowly righted itself, the main cage lifting off the bedrock.

Scout’s teammates jumped inside, Quinn and Coulter clearing the twelve-inch gap as the machine inched upward, the metal cable screeching and groaning. Quinn grabbed Scout’s hand, holding it tight, needing that connection in case they ran out of time. More explosions rocked through the mountain, parts of the shaft crumbling around them from the force.

Heat poured out from beneath the stone, smoke funneling up the shaft, flames already licking at the rock below them. The heavy cage jolted, shaking violently as it slowly ascended, occasionally stopping for a moment as if catching its breath before lurching ahead. The minutes ticked by, each foot a grueling battle against time and gravity.