May 30, 11:33 P.M.
Provo, Utah
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness in the lab, Kai slipped her wrist from her uncle's grip. A weak glow flowed in from the hallway, coming from illuminated emergency signs.
She searched the maze of the dark lab, ready to run. It was her first means of defense. Passed among foster homes, she had quickly learned to read the warning signs around her. It was vital to survival, to sense the mood, to know when to walk warily and when to stand your ground in homes where you were unwanted or barely tolerated.
Professor Kanosh rose up from one knee, where he'd been calming his dog, Kawtch. "Maybe it's just an ordinary power outage," he offered.
Kai latched onto that hope but knew it was desperation. She looked to her uncle for some reassurance.
Instead, Painter crossed to a desktop phone and lifted the receiver. Kai flashed to the old stereotype of an Indian pressing his ears to the ground to listen for signs of danger. This was a modern version of that.
"No dial tone," he said, and replaced the receiver. "Somebody cut the lines."
She crossed her arms, holding tightly. So much for that hope...
Painter turned to the big man he'd come here with and pointed to the lab's door. "Kowalski, watch the hall. Be ready to barricade the door if necessary."
The hulking man moved to the exit, sweeping aside his long jacket to reveal a shotgun strapped to his leg. Kai was familiar enough with guns from her hunting days with her father, but there was something odd about the weapon, especially the extra shells mounted on the gun's butt. They were spiked at one end. Still, the sight of the shotgun made the situation all the more real. Her heart began to pound harder in her throat, her senses stretching to a keening edge.
"What're we going to do?" Denton asked.
"We should hide," Kai blurted out, fighting back a tremble that threatened to leave her quaking on the floor. She took a step away, seeking the comfort of dark spaces.
Painter stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. He pulled her closer. She didn't resist, leaning against him, but it was like hugging a metal post. He was all hard muscle, bone, and purpose.
"Hiding won't do any good," he explained. "Clearly someone had you all under surveillance. Tracked you here and sent a strike team to flush you out. They'll sweep the place until they find you. Our only hope is that it'll take time to search the main building before they venture down to the underground facility. Until then, we need to find another way out of here."
Kai stared toward the ceiling, picturing the buried lab in her mind's eye. "How about up ?" she asked, grasping for anything.
Painter gave her an appreciative squeeze. It did much to return some strength to her legs.
"What about that?" he asked the two professors. "Are there any air vents? Service tunnels?"
"Sorry," Denton said, his voice quavering. "I know the entire schematics of this place. There's nothing like that. At least not large enough to crawl through. Only thing above our heads is a foot of reinforced concrete and about a yard of soil, rock, and lawn."
"Still, the kid's idea is a good one." The gruff words came from the doorway, from the man named Kowalski. "How 'bout we make our own exit?"
He tossed something the size of a ripe peach toward her uncle, who caught it one-handed. She felt Painter flinch next to her, then swear under his breath.