At the edges of her mind, she became aware of a faint sound—the dull repetitive hum of the air-conditioning unit. Air-conditioning? In the afterlife?
Carefully she opened her eyes and peered around. The bunker came into focus. Hunt was gone. He had taken the radio with him.
She gasped, sucking in gulps of air. She was alive. Hunt had left her alive—for now. Relief flooded through her.
She was curled up on the mercifully cold concrete floor, squeezing her knees to her chest. The shock faded as she focused on her breath, in and out. Her heart started to beat normally in her chest as her shaking subsided.
There was no way to tell how long she lay there. Time had ceased to flow in this godforsaken bunker. But, bit by bit, thoughts started to cut through the mess in her head, nudging her, pushing her to get up, to move. There was something she needed to do—an imperative; something more important than her.
She had to get to Alex. She checked her phone. The timer was still counting down the next hour. Twenty-three minutes remaining.
Alex was still alive. Ellis was still playing the game. Hunt was still hunting. This was not over.
Pulling hard on the zip ties, she tested them out. They were just small bits of plastic but surprisingly tough. They cut into her wrists but didn’t stretch or flex. There was no question in her mind that she was getting out of here. No pieces of plastic would hold her back now. Not after everything she’d faced today.
Her mind raced as she looked around, sizing up her options. Suddenly she smiled.
Time to fight fire with fire. Carefully she pulled her knees up, pushing her body close to her tied hands. Her fingers grasped at the pocket of her jeans. It was awkward and painful; she could feel something slippery on her fingers. Blood from the zip ties cutting into her wrists. She didn’t care. She was so close. Her fingertips brushed the top of Raya’s lighter.
A last push and she stretched herself further than she thought possible. Her fingers reached down, and just like that, she had it. The Zippo was in her hand, behind her back, her thumb felt the letters: RM.
Feeling her way around, she flicked the lighter open, testing out the wheel. This was going to hurt for sure, but what were her options?
She maneuvered her hands behind her, guiding herself by touch only, the Zippo cradled in her fingers. In her head, it felt right—the angles worked. If she lit it here, she could melt the ties.
Taking a short sharp breath, she flicked the wheel.
Ouch!The flame burned straight up onto her skin. She almost dropped the lighter. Breathing deeply through the pain, she bent forward and adjusted the angle. Before she could think about it too hard, she lit it again.
Fuck.It hurt so badly, but this time she smelled the sizzle of plastic. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her hands apart with all the strength she could muster.
Snap. The tie split. She brought her hands forward and, bending down, used the Zippo to free her feet. There was a nasty black burn on her left hand, the smell of burned flesh, but she brushed it off—she was past caring.
Rolling onto her knees, she pushed herself up and looked around.
The chessboard and pieces must have fallen off the crate they were resting on and were now scattered across the bunker floor. A small crack had appeared between the side of the crate and the wall; a strong smell of smoke was coming from it. Ana kneeled by the crate and ran her fingers along the crack. Air was whistling through it. Her heart jumped.
Everything was starting to make sense. The loud crack wasn’t a gunshot, it was the heavy crate slamming shut behind Hunt when he left the bunker. This was the exit. The way out. She pried the side of the crate open and peered inside.
A small dark tunnel led off to the right; the space was tight with barely enough room to crawl. At the far end, shafts of light cut through heavy, smoky air. That must be where the hatch and keypad were. That must be the way back into the outbuilding.
She was going to get out of here.
But first, there was something she needed to do. Running overto the desk, she checked the screens, searching for Alex. The images flashed up, changing over and over, set on the timed loop.
Where was he? Her eyes flicked left to right, searching. If she could just find Alex—if she could get to him in time before it was too late. Before Ellis.
As she scanned the wall of screens, she noticed multiple wires leading down from each of them into a plastic conduit that disappeared beneath the desk. Of course, Hunt didn’t have cellular either; everything in this bunker was likely hardwired.
Instinctively she ducked under the desk and followed the conduit. It led behind the desk drawer. Ana pulled the drawer out and, using her phone flashlight, looked for the source of the wires.
Hidden behind the drawer was a laptop. So, this was where Hunt was recording the video feeds. This was it—everything was saved here on this laptop. She reached in and pulled it out, then set it on the floor and flipped it open. The screen woke up instantly, revealing a single open window.
As Ana stared at it, her jaw dropped open. She slumped down on her knees. It took several moments to register what she was seeing, and several more moments to understand it.
Then it hit her.
Hard.
