The wind was stronger too, colder. I knew the storm was upon us, because I felt the snow blowing against my face, white streaking through the darkness, and I knew we were almost out of time.
“It’s good to see you, Pres,” Bex said, taking his hand and pulling him from the entrance of the narrow shaft I’d found just days before. She handed him a pair of extra boots and a coat that matched the one Zach had already put on.
“You too, Bex.” Preston put his hands on his hips, out of breath already. It didn’t matter how many sit-ups he’d been doing, at that altitude, there was a limit to how far and how fast anyone could run.
“You okay?” Zach asked, and I kissed him—fast and hard, not needing it to linger, just so happy to see him free. Behind us, I could still hear the screaming sirens, the flash of the swirling lights.
“Let’s go,” I said.
The snow blew harder as we ran down the icy, steep incline.
I saw the main doors to the facility start to open, and I knew it was just a matter of minutes before that mountain would be swarming with guards. Zach and Bex must have known it too, because they sprinted off, not waiting while Macey and I dragged Preston along.
“Now?” Liz’s voice rang in my ear, and I looked at Macey, who nodded.
“Now,” I said.
“Fire in the hole!” Liz cried, and a split second later a charge ricocheted off the mountain. In the cold, thin air the sound echoed. A puff of smoke and snow blew up from the entrance of the facility, and the doors that had been opening stopped cold. No guards were coming out that way. At least not for a little while.
“Thank you, Dr. Fibs, for your lecture on the strategic placement of explosive charges,” Macey said. She looked at Preston, expecting him to appreciate a well-placed explosive charge when he saw one, but he was too cold. Too terrified. Besides, I forced myself to remember, Preston was never trained to be like us.
“Here.” I stripped off my hat and put it on his head. We’d come too far to lose Preston to hypothermia now.
“Cammie”—Preston’s lips trembled as he spoke—“where’s my dad?”
“He’ll meet us when we get there,” I told him.
“Get where?” Preston asked.
I honestly don’t know what I would have told him—what we could have said—but there wasn’t any time to say anything, because right then Zach and Bex came bursting around a massive arrangement of boulders, each of them behind the controls of a snowmobile that we’d planned to “borrow” from the facility.
“Come on!” Zach yelled, and neither Macey nor I had to be told twice.
We ran toward them. Macey and Preston hopped on behind Bex, squeezing together.
Liz was screaming in my ear, begging, “Please tell me you guys are clear?”
“Not yet,” I said and jumped on Zach’s snowmobile just as, overhead, there were cries from more guards, shadows moving in the blowing snow.
Zach turned, and in a flash we were flying down the mountain.
I wasn’t sure at first if it was the speed of the snowmobile or if the storm was just picking up, but the snow burned as it blew. My eyes stung, and I struggled to keep them open, so I didn’t try. I just buried my face against Zach’s shoulder, fighting against the cold.
“You okay?” Zach yelled and, numbly, I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me.
“Guys!” Liz’s voice was loud and clear in my ear. “You’re about to have company. Lots of company!”
I craned my head back and squinted, trying to see through the storm. There were headlights behind us. More snowmobiles. More guards. And guns. They would have lots of guns, and they wouldn’t aim to wound.
We weren’t in training anymore. The stakes and the bullets were real. It was only February, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were already on the far side of graduation.
“Guys…” Liz yelled again, impatience ringing through her voice, “are you clear?”
I glanced behind me one more time. We hadn’t gone as far as I’d liked. There was too little space between us and the top of that mountain, but a shot rang out then. Zach swerved. And I knew what the answer had to be.
“Go!” I yelled.
Through the comms unit, I heard Liz say one final time, “Fire in the hole!”