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Authors: Kate Hawkings

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BOOK: The Sphinx Project
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With silent nods of agreement, we each took a pillar. I folded myself tightly into the corner between the wall and the support beam.

The tunnel faded to black as Matt switched off the flashlight. It wasn't a moment too soon either, the first boot landed on the concrete a second later. I hoped they hadn't seen the change in light.

I pressed back into the cold stone. Something slick grew down the wall. I tried to ignore the slime against my skin, coating my arm and shoulder.

They carried no flashlights, but their steps never faltered. They stalked forward with confidence, as if they could see exactly where they were going.

The men neared. I made my breathing as shallow as possible. I didn't want to be caught by someone with particularly sharp hearing. The first man passed me and I held my breath completely.

A dull green glow emanated from their faces, creeping from behind what seemed to be a dark set of glasses. They were wearing night-vision goggles.

The faint light was enough for me to see by. Mouse too. I worried momentarily about Matt; he wouldn't be able to see anything. I pushed it aside. There was nothing I could do about him now. I could only hope he wouldn't jump in blindly.

The men moved in single file, making them easy to count; seven in total. They didn't turn to observe their surroundings even once. Sloppy.

I waited to ensure there weren't more coming then stepped out. Creeping swiftly behind them on the balls of my feet, I didn't make a sound.

With soft movements I approached the man at the rear, springing at the very last minute. I covered his mouth with my hand, pinching his nose closed with my fingers so he couldn't make a noise. Pressing the palm of my hand into the side of his neck I bounced it against his skin. The alternating pressure on the vagus nerve caused him to go limp. I caught him, laying him gently on the ground.

Mouse relieved him of his goggles and presented them to Matt. I was glad to see he was still hiding in his corner. Her hand on his arm made him jump, but he readily accepted the device.

As Mouse helped him into them, I went after the next man. He went down just as easily. The third was slightly smaller, and I could reach around his neck from behind. I pressed my forearm against his windpipe, cutting off the blood to his brain at the same time.

Matt and Mouse passed. I lay the man carefully on the ground.

Matt used the same technique as I had, wrapping his arm around the man's neck. Mouse kept going, attempting to target the nerve in the neck of the next target. She was tiny—there was no way she could reach around her target's neck completely.

He shifted slightly as her blow landed, making her miss the crucial spot. He yelled and spun, weapon extended. Matt dropped the man he was choking, diving under the gun and tackling the other man to the ground. He had been too focused on Mouse to notice Matt behind her.

Matt and his opponent fell to the ground. They exchanged blow after blow, fighting for the dominant position.

I tried to step over them, but a hand wrapped around my upper arm, pulling me around. The man Matt had discarded to rescue Mouse had regained his feet, recovering his breath quickly. He hadn't been without air long enough to make him pass out.

I punched him in the liver with one hand, his spleen with the other, finishing it off with a knee to the groin. The multiple impacts overloaded his brain, causing it to shut down and him to collapse.

As I turned back to the action, I found myself in the position I'd been dreading. Matt was back on his feet, his opponent unmoving on the cold concrete below. Two men stood facing us, holding a struggling Mouse between them. Both had guns trained on her torso.

I froze. No one moved. I waited for them to do or say something. They seemed to be expecting the same. Nervousness radiated off them. Everything from their expressions to the slight shaking of their weapons screamed their discomfort.

Someone moaned lightly behind us. We didn't have much time. The men would start waking shortly—even if they wouldn't be feeling too well, it would be easier to wrap this up sooner rather than later.

I looked around, searching for something I could use. Hoping for some sort of inspiration to show me what I needed to do. I wasn't expecting to find anything, so when I did I couldn't prevent a small smile from curling my lips.

The flashlight Matt had been carrying lay next to the beaten man, not more than two feet in front of me.

I slid my foot forward beneath the device. They didn't notice; their eyes didn't stray below our waists. They didn't seem to be aware of anything going on.

With a flick of my foot, I tossed the metal cylinder into the air. In a single movement I caught it and switched it on, directing the stinging beam of bright light into their eyes. They flinched away, loosening their grip on Mouse.

She threw herself to the ground, dragging her arms out of their grip. They swung their guns blindly in our direction. I dropped the flashlight, drew the blades sitting at my thighs and sent them flying at both targets simultaneously.

The knives punctured their throats, embedding deep into their skin. A gun went off. I crouched, making myself as small as possible trying to avoid the bullets that ricocheted around the tunnel.

The men spluttered. The bullets stopped. One reached for the knife, ripping it free. The blood gushed forth, spewing from the wound. He pressed his hands to his neck, but blood seeped between his fingers.

The other man wrapped his hands around his neck, below the blade. He spun slightly before falling to the ground. Red fluid pooled around him. He twitched.

Gurgling noises squeezed from them. I couldn't tell if they originated from their wounds or mouths. The second man collapsed, blood bubbling from his lips.

I didn't move until their bodies stopped jerking. I couldn't drag my eyes away. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I couldn't think of anything else, but that didn't make me feel any better.

"Come on," Matt said grimly after a moment of silence. "We need to get out of here."

We continued running, following Matt. As we reached an intersection, I could hear the sound of heavy boots on metal far behind us. My heart raced again. We were too far ahead, and they couldn't catch us now. Could they?

"Where are you staying?" Matt asked quietly.

We told him. He said nothing more, just turned down one of the many passages. After several twists and turns, it became apparent he had more than a fleeting knowledge of these tunnels.

I could hear a strange clickity-clicking noise. It was faint but growing louder. Our path continued onward before us but a much larger tunnel intersected it.

Reaching the crossroads, the noise had grown to a loud rumble. A long train raced across our path, the carriages lit within by bright white lights. The windows seemed to merge into one long pane of glass, such was its speed.

As the noise faded, Matt motioned for us to follow him. He jumped from our tunnel into the other before offering his hand to help us down.

"See the railing that runs alongside the tracks?" he asked. "Whatever you do, don't touch it. I doubt even you would survive a shock that strong."

He took our silence as understanding and began to run again. I could hear another train coming and he pressed us into a small alcove in the concrete waiting for it to pass. I covered my ears with my hands, the roar vibrated around my head.

We kept moving until a dim light bloomed in the distance. The light at the end of the tunnel. It grew brighter until we reached the platform. There were few people milling around. Most of them were inebriated, under the influence of some chemical or other.

One man in a shabby old jacket stared at us intently while we climbed from the tracks. It made me worry. Had they posted lookouts in case we got away? Had they even known about the tunnels? Why else would they have had explosives?

I kept watching him out of the corner of my eye. He didn't lower his gaze. Only when we got closer did I notice the smell. It made me vomit a little in my mouth. There was no way they'd go to such measures to keep an eye on us. I looked back before I turned the corner to see him collect a glass bottle from his coat and take a swig.

I didn't relax. I couldn't. With running jumps we hurdled over the turnstiles and sprinted up the stairs. We surfaced a short distance from our hotel. Had Briana told them about where we'd left our equipment too? I could only hope she hadn't woken up and given them all the details yet.

"Is there anything you need from the room?" Matt asked as we stood at the corner of the street.

"No." I shook my head, peering around the edge of the building. We'd loaded the car earlier, in case we had to make a break for it. I tore open the handbag that had hung over Mouse's shoulder the entire time, pulling the keys free.

"Can you see anything strange?" I asked Mouse, drawing back and letting her have a look.

"No."

We ran again. I swiped a small blue coin in front of a sensor and the mechanical garage door rolled upwards. Our car was parked in the closest space to the door. I climbed in the driver's seat and Mouse slid in beside me.

"Take this," Matt said, crouching beside my seat. He held out a phone and a small rounded gadget with a cord on one end. "I need to be able to contact you later. Don't lose it."

"You're not coming with us?" I asked, stunned. I didn't really know what to think of this boy. I didn't like him but he wouldn't be safe here anymore.

"I have things to do." He sounded very sure of himself. What sort of teen had the sort of knowledge he'd exhibited tonight? I mean, apart from us? He'd easily adapted to the night-vision goggles, like he'd used them before. And he knew how to fight and about the sphinx project.

Chapter Twenty

We didn't stop, or speak, until we were well outside the city limits. I stewed in my own thoughts, trying to figure everything out, fighting to hold back the tears. As we turned onto a quiet road, I pulled over to the side, unable to restrain them anymore.

Water poured from my eyes and my body shook. Mouse leaned over, wrapping her arms around me while sobs racked her body.

"Why'd she sell us out?" Mouse finally asked. The resignation in her tone mirrored some of the emotions swirling within me. I still couldn't believe what had happened. Yeah, we knew the risks, but we'd never expected to be so completely overwhelmed.

Mouse had vocalized the question I'd been turning over and over in my head since I'd seen Nicole's fist slam into Briana's nose. Well, one of the questions. Had she really sold us out?

"I don't know." I couldn't keep the despair out of my voice. What were we going to do now? What could we do? We needed to find out where they'd taken Nicole and then we had to get her back. "We have to rescue her."

I wiped the tears from my eyes and leaned back, staring at the roof.

"Where are we going?" Mouse asked, her head nodding slightly on the edge of my vision.

"South Carolina, unless you have a better idea. I can't think of anywhere else to start."

"It's the only lead we have," Mouse agreed. "Do you trust him?" she asked after a long pause, addressing another of my questions.

"I don't know," I said truthfully. "I want to, but there's a part of me that's screaming not to." I leaned back in my seat, trying to stretch the muscles of my injured shoulder. It was much better now but it was still stiff and ached a little. I tried to rotate my wrist a little within the confines of the cast; it hurt after punching the man in the tunnel.

Why was I so quick to want to trust this boy? He'd helped us escape but were his intentions simply to assist us? Or was there something else? Visiting New York hadn't answered any of our questions. It had only created more, along with a whole pile of extra trouble. Everything was my fault.

Mouse and I settled into a pattern, taking turns at the wheel, changing over every hour. By the time we reached the outskirts of Columbia, South Carolina it was almost lunch time on Sunday. We decided to stop at a large superstore to find some food.

"I think we need a disguise," Mouse piped up. "They know what we look like. Surely we can make it harder for them to find us. We should get you a wig," Mouse suggested. "Your hair is rather distinctive." My blond hair reached to my waist, she had a point.

"Yours is hardly less recognizable," I pointed out. "How easy would it be to find a wig? Will it look realistic?" I asked, turning an apple over in my hands. Wouldn't all my hair make a lump under the hairpiece? "I can dye it instead. These places have those little boxes of dye that you can do yourself. That'll probably be cheaper." Mom had begun going gray in her twenties and we'd always watched her apply the strange-smelling goop to her hair. She'd told us about her shopping trips, describing everything she saw as intricately as she could.

"I think I'll do the same," Mouse agreed.

We filled our basket with food and wandered through the aisles until we found the hair and beauty section. There were hundreds of little boxes, with colors ranging from the most shadowed blacks to platinum blond and even purple. I gazed at the methodically arranged packages, lining the shelves in perfect order, completely bamboozled. How was someone supposed to pick one?

I browsed the shelf for some time, eventually resorting to eenie-meenie-miney-mo to choose a deep shade of mahogany. Mouse was drawn to a brighter amber color, which promised to give her hair 'visible shimmering tones.'

The problem was where to apply the dye, since it was messy and took time. Eventually, after asking for directions, we found ourselves in the large bathrooms at the intercity bus terminal. There weren't many buses due today and the place was quiet.

Mouse mixed up the paste, following the instructions on the box. I crouched by the sink, hesitant to kneel when the entire room reeked of urine, and she applied the foul-smelling dye to my roots.

"There's really not much of it, is there?" I asked, peering into the little container. Once it was empty, she rubbed the dye all over my hair, but it didn't seem to stretch far enough. It was spread as far as it would go but more than half my hair wasn't covered. Mouse worked it in a bit longer but in the end it still didn't quite reach.

BOOK: The Sphinx Project
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