Michael
MICHAEL
“This isn’t the way out!” hissed as they were hurried down emergency stairwells. “We should be heading to the south side of the complex, to the vehicle bay!”
“Oh, honey, we know,” Cas crooned from behind him, hurrying them along. “But we’ve got one more stop to make before we can leave. This is the way to the nursery, right?”
blanched. “Why are we …”
“It is,” Gretchen replied firmly. “Two more flights down, level thirteen. Last time I was in there, back in the spring, they had about six toddlers and a handful of seven-to-eight-year-olds. They haven’t … the gestation lab was shut down around a year ago, so no … unborn or newborns.”
Cas blew out a breath. “This place …”
Another boom, another quake of the floor.
“What is going on?” demanded. “What are those explosions?”
“It’s a revolution, ,” Clay responded. “And if we play our part right, no innocent children will die. But we have to hurry.”
Gretchen’s lips pressed together in determination, and she strode faster. ’s heart lurched. He’d thought he was being the strong one for her, but in the face of all of this …
You’re a coward twice over.
“Come on, Mike,” Cas said gently, pressing a hand against the small of his back. “The faster we get those babies out, the faster we can all get out of here.”
“Where’s Jack?” he asked suddenly. His question was met with silence.
“Where is he?” he repeated.
“He’s got his own role to play,” Clay replied, not slowing for one second. “Just trust that he’s more than capable.” His tone said very firmly, ‘Don’t ask questions’. pressed his mouth shut, bottling his fears away inside.
They took another flight, and Gretchen pointed to the door with the 13 on it. “Through there.”
Clay pushed the door open. The cries of screaming children immediately hit them. A slight blonde girl with big, aqua eyes popped up in front of them.
“Oh, good! The little ones aren’t too taken with Farida!” she blurted, gesturing to where a tall, dark-skinned woman, her hair in long braids, stood beside a smoking hole in the wall and the slumped, bloodied bodies of two agents. A huddle of children, tear-streaked faces, all gazed up at her in fear.
“We’re here to get you to safety,” the woman said, her accent British, her tone clipped. “Out you come … please.”
Cas pushed to the front. “Let me take care of this,” she murmured to the blonde and hurried over, giving the other woman’s arm a squeeze and crouching down.
“Hey, kiddos, I bet that big bang was scary, wasn’t it?” she said, her voice soothing. A couple of them nodded. “But you know what? We’re gonna take you to a really cool place, where you get to see trees and a river … and, have you ever seen stars before? Have you heard of the aurora borealis? You haven’t? They’re these super awesome dancing lights in the sky …”
The braided woman stood stiffly to the side, watching with guarded intensity as the children’s faces morphed from fear to wary curiosity. Something in her eyes looked so sad. So … lonely.
“The toddlers are in cribs. We need to lift them out and carry them,” the blonde explained, breaking ’s train of thought. “You guys like kids, right? I mean, you two had one … big strapping Shifter he is now. I hear he has a hot bear uncle, too!”
stared, gobsmacked, at the strange girl, who grabbed Gretchen’s hand and tugged her along, gesturing for the two men. “Come on, these kidlets aren’t going to rescue themselves, you know. Now’s your chance to be the hero you always dreamed of growing up to be!”
Clay chuckled under his breath and followed along. couldn’t think of anything even remotely funny about any of this.
“Ellis,” the braided woman said, marching over. “I’m going to leave you with Cas and Clay to get the children out. I have a couple of tasks I need to do alone. I need you to get these children and move. Immediately outside. Do you understand?”
The blonde girl—Ellis—nodded, her expression changing from joking to serious like a flicked light switch. “I’ll see you on the other side?”
The braided woman watched intently for a moment, then nodded.
“You will.”
Something about that exchange made the hairs on his arms stand up. As the woman strode away, turned, looking through the hole blasted in the wall, to where Clay was lifting a small child out of a cot, cradling it against his shoulder, making small, cooing noises.
Just the way I used to when Jack was tiny, thought, his throat closing over. He cleared it decisively, stepping through the hole and moving past Cas, who was winning the older children over.
Not a hero, he told himself as he lifted a toddler, her face red, tear-streaked, her cries hoarse, and held her to his shoulder, making shushing sounds. Just slightly less of a coward than before.