Chapter 7 - The Blast Wave
The concussive force of the explosion hit them like a physical wall, throwing dust and gravel into the air. Clara dropped low, pulling Julian down behind a thick concrete support pillar as debris rained down around them.
"Gas!" Clara yelled, coughing as a thick, acrid haze began rolling down the steam tunnel from the direction of the breached door.
She pulled a black neoprene mask from her pocket, snapping it over her face and adjusting the straps with practiced speed. She tossed a spare filter mask toward Julian, who fumbled with the straps before securing it tightly.
Through the swirling smoke, the beam of a high-intensity tactical flashlight pierced the gloom. Armed operatives in unmarked black tactical gear were advancing down the tunnel, their assault rifles raised, moving with lethal efficiency.
"Eleanor didn't just want us caught," Marcus muttered, clutching his side where the shockwave had thrown him against a rusted pipe. "She wants us erased."
Julian stared at the advancing operators, his heart pounding in his throat. "Those aren't hotel security. Those are private contractors. Vance Industries mercenaries."
Clara unclipped a small metallic cylinder from her tactical belt—a flash-bang grenade—and checked the pin. "Stay low, cover your ears, and when I say run, you run straight toward the ventilation junction at the end of the line."
Before Julian could argue, Clara pulled the pin with her teeth and tossed the device in a high, bouncing arc down the center of the tunnel.
The white-hot flash turned the cavernous underground space into daylight for a fraction of a second, followed immediately by a deafening roar that shook the soot from the ceiling pipes. The mercenaries shouted in confusion and pain, their flashlights spinning wildly against the wet walls.
"Now! Move!" Clara screamed, grabbing Julian by the collar and hauling him forward into the thick white smoke.
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They sprinted through the haze, boots splashing through puddles of stagnant water. Marcus struggled to keep pace, his breathing ragged and wheezing. Clara looped her arm around the old general’s waist, taking the brunt of his weight as they pushed deeper into the labyrinthine tunnels, leaving the chaos behind them.
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