They ran all the faster toward the door. “What now?” Enzo called to Charity’s father.
“I’ve no idea,” he said. “There should still be a way to escape. We just have to find it.”
Was there? A nagging voice inside Charity’s head insisted that they could’ve made it out, but they’d been too slow. Now maybe no safe options existed.
“Milo’s truck is in the visitors’ parking lot,” Enzo said. “Let’s head there. Maybe we can take one of the gate guards hostage and get out that way.”
A thin hope. The guards would be watching for them.
They reached the door. Charity pressed the button and stood panting, nerves humming, waiting to see if her facial recognition still worked to unlock it. The light scanned her. The door swung open.
The officials must not have realized yet that the prisoners had an accomplice in the system helping them.
The group rushed outside into the musty garage and its rows of empty vehicles. The alarm was only a low buzz out here.
A car pulled into the reserved parking nearest to the door. It wasn’t an armored police vehicle, not troops being sent to secure the location, just someone who’d been in the parking garage when the alarm went off. Better yet, the car wasn’t a regular civilian vehicle. It was long, sleek, and black, without the dents and scratches typical to most of the cars in the city.
“Change of plans,” Enzo said. “Stay here until I call for you.” Without waiting for a reply, he made a beeline toward the car.
A portly, middle-aged man with receding hair sat in the driver’s seat. He looked serious and important in his dark suit. He glanced at Enzo with surprise but without any alarm. He turned off his car and opened his door.
As the man stepped from the car, Enzo pulled out his gun. “Drop your keys and your weapons.”
The man stared back at him. No fear marred his expression, only gathering anger. He gripped his keys in one hand. “What are you doing, Vasquez?”
The man knew Enzo. That’s why he hadn’t grown suspicious when Enzo approached the car.
“You heard me.” Enzo’s voice was breathy from running. “Drop your keys and gun on the ground.”
This was the solution they needed. The exit gates would still open for a car of a high-ranking official.
“What’s wrong with you?” The man glanced over and saw Charity and the others. He let out a derisive laugh. “Don’t tell me you fell for her. You ought to know better than that.” He shook his head like a scolding parent. “Kitra’s mother will be so disappointed. Or if you’d rather I didn’t tell her, you can put down your gun, come to your senses, and we’ll forget about this nervous breakdown you seem to be having.”
Enzo’s jaw muscle pulsed. He took a step closer to the man. “Look me in the eye, Schmitt, and tell me you don’t plan on hurting Charity in the hopes of getting visions from Ben.”
Schmitt raised his hands, not in surrender but in a gesture of explanation. “Wars have casualties. Sometimes casualties we don’t like. Every day that the breakaway states fight us, our list of casualties grows. People are dying. I’m trying to stop that. I thought you were too.”
“Not like this,” Enzo said. “I’m not going to ask for your keys another time. Drop them.”
Schmitt scowled and tossed them on the ground several feet away from Enzo.
Enzo didn’t take his gaze from the man. “Now take your gun out using two fingers. If you reach for the trigger, I’ll shoot.”
Schmitt threaded his fingers together. “You’re really going to shoot me—a friend of your mother’s, the man who got you your job? I have a hard time believing that. You’re an officer of the law who’s vowed to protect the innocent.”
“You’re not one of the innocent.”
Enzo was bluffing. Charity held her breath, waiting to see if Schmitt fell for it.
“Fine,” Schmitt said. “I’m getting out my gun.” He slowly reached into his front suit pocket. “You’ve apparently forgotten what it means to sacrifice for your country, but I haven’t.” He pulled out the gun and lifted it. “I won’t let you take two Empowereds.”
He’d fire on Enzo. Charity could see Enzo’s hesitation, see him decide not to shoot first. He rushed the man to tackle him instead. It should’ve been an easy fight to win, except Schmitt still clutched his gun.
The world seemed to stop. The barrel moved in slow motion, turning until it pointed in her direction.
A blast. A flash of light. She felt no pain. Not even the impact of a bullet hitting her vest.
Enzo plowed into Schmitt. They both went flying into the side of the car and nearly as quickly broke apart. The man was stronger than he looked. He hadn’t dropped his gun in the scuffle.