I sprinted back toward the control room, my boots slipping on wet concrete where the sprinkler system had turned everything into a mess. The countdown timer's red glow leaked through cracks in doors—01:17... 01:16... 01:15...
Gunfire echoed from somewhere above. Marcus yelling orders. The crash of breaking glass.
Then I heard something that made my blood freeze.
A sound like metal tearing. Like bones breaking. Like something very big and very angry waking up after a long sleep.
It came from below. Sub-level Three, where Dr. Anderson said they kept the failures.
"Oh, shit," I whispered.
I reached the control room just as Alexander slammed Damien against the wall. Damien's face was bloody, his expensive shirt torn, but he was smiling.
"You're too late," Damien said, spitting blood. "Both of you."
"Scarlett!" Alexander's relief lasted about two seconds before he saw my expression. "What's wrong?"
"Something's happening in the sublevels. Something bad."
