Chapter 12
A MINOR EXPLOSION, BUT A MAJOR EXISTENTIAL CRISIS
My head pounded.
Hard. Like my brain was trying to carve its way free from my skull with an ice pick. It made it hard to think. Hard to do anything but fight the urge to throw up.
Gradually, though, the agony subsided enough for me to register low murmurs nearby. I managed a strangled mutter, and a second later, a cool, gloved hand gently pressed against the inside of my wrist.
Somewhere in the distance, a shrill alarm bell rang, harsh and piercing but weirdly muffled, like someone had stuffed cotton into my ears. And my mouth.
This was worse than any hangover I’d had. Even my tongue hurt when I licked my lips. I frowned at the gritty taste. Dust.
What…what happened?
The last thing I remembered was walking down the hallway in the anthro wing, searching for—
“I think she’s awake,” said an unfamiliar feminine voice.
“Er, Raven?”
I recognized those dulcet tones. They could’ve been straight from a BBC literature special. And when I cracked open my eyes and found a concerned gaze behind thick-rimmed glasses, I recognized that, too. Not to mention the tweed.
“Professor Stern?” I croaked. “What…?”
Then it all rushed back.
Everything slammed into place. Terrifying and impossible. Images straight out of my favorite sci-fi movies.
But it hadn’t been a movie. It’d been real.
I gasped and shoved myself upright.
Too fast. The world spun into a colorful blur. Acid swelled in my throat, and my heart rabbit-kicked my ribs.
I’d seen...
What had I seen?
I clawed at my sternum, fighting for air. That charred-ash taste—it was everywhere. That and panic. Because none of this could be real—
“Careful, Miss Barrister.” A calm female voice broke through my spiral. “You’re experiencing shock. Let’s take it slow. Breathe in and out with me.”
No shit. I was experiencing a hell of a lot more than just shock. But it was either that or start screaming and never stop, so I squeezed my eyes shut and obeyed.
In. Out. Again. Once more.
Gradually, the tightness eased. The trembling lessened enough for me to raise my head.
I blinked, dazed.
An older woman in a blue EMT uniform knelt at my side.
Behind her, Professor Stern hovered, his dark skin several shades paler than usual.
He was flanked by other professors I half-recognized and a wide-eyed student I’d had a class with once.
Firefighters moved in the background, their breathers off, shouting instructions and checking walls.
Two police officers stood farther back, one scribbling in a notepad.
But it was the three strangers standing just beyond them who caught my eye: two men and a woman, all in fitted blazers and slacks, not a logo or badge in sight. Beside them, a gray-haired man in military uniform watched me silently, eyes unreadable behind wire-rimmed glasses.
They looked…out of place.
Then again, I was out of place.
I blinked again and focused on the crooked bulletin board on the wall across from me.
“Why am I in the anthro hall?” I rasped, glancing between the EMT and Professor Stern. My voice sounded strange. Hoarse, like I had already been screaming. Which checked out. I had the urge to scream again, too.
Because I might be out of place, but I knew this hallway.
I was slumped against the wall outside the stairwell I’d first walked down that morning.
Dust smeared the walls. The scent of fried plastic and bitter smoke hung in the air.
My book bag lay beside me, looking a little worse for the wear. I was sure I did, too.
None of this made sense.
The last thing I remembered—
I grimaced and pressed my fingers to my temple. No. I knew where I’d been. I’d been in the lab. The cleanroom past the storage room.
I remembered falling. The lights. The smoke. The sound of everything breaking.
I hadn’t crawled out of the lab—especially not all the way here. Not without remembering it.
Goosebumps rose across my skin.
How the hell had I gotten here?
A glove touched my arm, and I jerked back, gasping.
The EMT gave me a wary look and held up her hand. “I’m sorry. But Miss Barrister, we’ve got an ambulance out front. Maybe you should come with us. It’s possible you have a concussion, which would explain some of the confusion.”
Confusion. That was the understatement of the year.
I let out a breathless laugh. It rubbed against my sore throat like sandpaper on its way out. “No hospitals.”
“But—”
“How did I get here?” I interrupted, trying to fight back the rising tide of terror.
Waking up in a strange place was bad enough.
But the robot, the freaking lasers, the weird light and dissolving tablet?
Those absolutely impossible memories felt real.
Real enough that they were threatening to dissolve me into a pile of blubbering goo.
I wrapped my arms tightly around my middle to hold myself in a solid state. Both officers were watching me now, the one with the notepad stepping closer, his eyes sharp.
The EMT sighed and shifted back on her heels. “Well, what do you remember?” she asked, drawing out a penlight. “Any memories of the explosion?”
I winced as she aimed the tiny flashlight directly into my eyes. Why did they have to do that? And had she said explosion? I didn’t remember any explosion. Memories played like a movie on fast-forward. The robot. The artifact. The white glow. The guards.
That…thing that had looked like it wanted to turn me into mulch. If there had been an explosion, it should have taken a backseat to that.
My heart started racing all over again.
Those security guards. My stomach curled in on itself, and I reached for the EMT’s arm.
“Was there…anything—anybody else in there? Is anyone hurt?”
Instead of answering, she exchanged a glance with the cop edging closer. When she turned back to me, she asked, “Did you see the security guards before the explosion? We’ve already taken them to the hospital.”
My breath hitched. I had seen them, all right. Unconscious. At least one had been bleeding.
But for some reason, I didn’t say that.
Instead, I heard myself murmur, “I think so. Are they okay?”
Professor Stern moved then, crouching beside me.
His expression was tight, his brown skin ashen, deep lines creasing his forehead.
“They’re a little out of it, but they’re all right,” he said, examining me like he might a curious lab specimen.
“They were knocked out by the explosion near the back hall’s entry.
We’re very lucky it doesn’t appear anyone was in the lab itself during the actual blast. You were very fortunate. We all were.”
Fortunate?
But…but I was in that lab.
I blinked, trying to piece together the fragments of memory whirling around my aching skull. Something didn’t add up.
Mainly: Why the hell wasn’t anybody talking about the terrifying freaking robot?
Whatever crossed my face must’ve registered, because the professor’s frown deepened. “Raven, did you see anything that might help us understand how this happened? Anything strange? We’re trying to determine what sparked the explosion.”
I had the urge to laugh hysterically. Possibly cry. Yeah, I’d seen something strange, all right.
And there it was again. That word.
Explosion.
I squeezed my eyes shut. The massive metal creature flashed through my mind, the blinding pink beam of light, the glowing tablet. My temples throbbed so hard I nearly whimpered.
“You’re set on not going to the hospital?” the EMT asked when I rubbed at my forehead.
I nodded wordlessly, and she sighed.
“Well, if you’re refusing medical care, do you want us to call someone for you?” Her radio crackled. She reached for the dial and turned it down before continuing. “You’re not showing physical signs of a concussion, but it’s still best we check you out thoroughly.”
I shook my head, raising my eyes to hers. Even the dim lighting down here felt too bright. “No. I’m fine, really. What…so there was an explosion?”
The officer lingering nearby stepped closer, raising his voice over the distant drone of the fire alarm. “Far as we can tell, something in the clean lab went up. Sprinklers kicked in and suppressed the fire, but the whole floor took some damage. The lab and storage room got hit hardest.”
I looked up at him from where I half-sprawled on the dusty linoleum. He couldn’t have been much older than me. His sandy hair was buzzed close to his scalp, and his name tag read Brown.
He adjusted his belt and flipped open a small notebook, licking his thumb to turn a page.
“Professor here says your name’s Raven Barrister,” he said, glancing down at me for confirmation.
I nodded. “Anthropology student, right?” Another nod.
“Okay. So what’s the last thing you remember, Raven?
Did you see anyone else down there? What were you doing in the lab?
Professor says it’s usually off-limits.”
“I was…looking for him,” I mumbled.
And I hadn’t seen anyone else. Except the guards. Except that thing.
None of this made any sense.
“I didn’t see an explosion,” I added, softer.
No, I’d seen something impossible.
A sentient robot. Its garbled voice. Wreckage and sparks and light.
But no one else was mentioning that.
“Aren’t there cameras in the lab?” I asked, lifting my gaze to Officer Brown.
He hesitated, exchanged a look with Professor Stern, then shrugged. “There was an electrical malfunction. None of the cameras recorded anything.”
Of course they didn’t. The panic that had just barely receded clawed back up my throat.
The guards were okay. Their injuries had been blamed on the explosion. They’d corroborated it.
But I’d seen them stuffed in the bathroom. Alive. Unconscious. An explosion clearly hadn’t deposited them all in there.
And why had they been hidden away?
If that robot-thing had been the culprit, why not just finish the job? They’d gone full demolition mode on the rest of the floor. Why spare the guards?
Why spare me?
None of it made sense.