* * * *
Dr. Hennigan
“What the fuck?” Dr. Hennigan stared at the shattered glass where she’d just sent a bullet.The glass shouldn’t have shattered outward like that.“Richardson? Denzili? What was that?” No response. “Ms. Wilson?” Nothing.
A body flew out of the suite and into the crowd below. She didn’t know what had happened, but something was terribly wrong. She left the gun where it lay. It was new and unmarked, so there was no way it could be traced back to The Foundation.
The Foundation had protocols for situations like this. She needed to get out of the building and go to ground until she could contact the Mesa Juamenes Complex. Thankfully, Ms. Wilson had drawn up three different escape routes in case of an emergency. She ran through the lobby area to a side door and pushed it open. It didn’t budge. She tried again.
The chaos from the arena could be heard in the background. While the concertgoers had stared in horror at a flying body, she’d sprung into action, so she was seconds ahead of the onslaught of concertgoers looking for a way out.
She turned around and headed to her second exfiltration point. This door opened, and she walked down the stairs. At the bottom, there was a small lobby and an emergency door. The emergency door was alarmed, but she wasn’t worried about setting it off with the chaos building in the arena.
She exited the stairwell then paused for a second before swiftly walking across the lobby. The emergency exit was just a few feet away.
“Good to see you, Phillipa.”
Hennigan glanced toward the woman’s voice and found a woman clad in black standing with a gun leveled at her. She barely had a chance to move before the woman pulled the trigger.
The sharp pain of the bullet piercing her body caused a blinding flash of pain, but the adrenaline set in, and she barreled through the emergency door. The other woman was moments behind her. Dr. Hennigan darted into traffic and ran.
* * * *
Blayne
Blayne was on his feet one second, and the next, he was face down on the concrete with someone in a black coat lying on top of him. He hadn’t even realized Ms. Z. was hovering in their section, watching over them.
He twisted his head to see Ms. Z. with her gun out. She tried to say something over the loud chaos around them. She got a disgruntled look, removed the earpiece and let it flop over her shoulder. He looked over to check on everyone else. Kira, Jamie and Madeline had all crashed to the floor in the stands beside him. Sarah crouched with her service gun pulled out, too.Where did she even keep that thing?
Ms. Z. reached down, grabbed the back of his shirt, and yelled, “Up. We need to move you to a secure location.”
Before Blayne even registered what had happened, he was on his feet. Ms. Z. half dragged, half led the group down the concrete stairs to the arena floor. Blayne stared at the section where concertgoers were covered in glass, scrambling away from what looked to be a body splayed across the seats. He looked toward the light from the suite.
The faces of what had been cheery concertgoers now painted a horrifying tableau of shock, confusion and terror. Eyes, wide as dinner plates, glistened with unshed tears or flickered with the reflective glow of the stage lights.Why hasn’t someone turned on the arena lights yet?Most either crouched behind their chairs or stood in a look of disbelief, as if the minds behind those eyes were frantically trying to reconcile the joyous concert atmosphere with the grim reality that had just imposed itself. Armed with flashlights, ushers were screaming over the chaos, directing people out of the arena. Others were using their cell phones to shine lights. A voice over the loudspeaker began saying, “Please stay calm. Arena personnel will guide you to the nearest emergency exit,” on repeat.
Despite it all, Blayne was impressed with how quickly the arena staff immediately implemented their crisis management plan.
No ushers were directing people to the left of the main stage, where Ms. Z. led their group. As they approached, Mr. J. looked at them and yelled. “Coms are down. Something is interfering with all communications in the building that are not hardwired into the arena.”
“Say that again,” Sarah asked. She had been trailing the group, almost like covering their rear from a sneak attack.
“There is a communications blackout. Something is jamming our signals.”
“That explains why I couldn’t get anything over my earpiece,” Ms. Z. said. “Let me get them to the greenroom,” she said, gesturing to the group, “then I’ll be back.”
“Great. I left Ms. A. in the greenroom. Mr. S. is on the other side of the stage, coordinating evacuation efforts with the local security personnel and the arena staff.”
“Has anyone checked the suite?” Sarah asked.
“Not yet,” Mr. J. said. “I was focused on getting people out of here and locking down the band. We were waiting for the Houston Police Department to get here.”
“I’m going up there,” Sarah said.
“Sarah,” Kira said, “is that wise? What if there is someone up there waiting?”
Sarah turned to look at Kira. “Don’t worry. I won’t take any unnecessary chances.” She then turned to Mr. J. “Any chance you have a spare bulletproof vest lying around?”
The corner of Mr. J.’s mouth quirked ever so slightly. “I’m sure there’s one around here somewhere.” He then looked at Ms. Z. “Get the rest of them out of here.”
