Having had a simple lunch, Hunter and I locked up the apartment and began descending toward the exit of the residential complex. The clock showed 3:30 PM, with little time left before departure. I glanced at my PDA, checking if "Alice" had loaded the updated route with a stop in Toronto, where we were supposed to drop off Larson's niece and her friend. The hydrogen fuel cells of ATLAS were fully charged, and I felt a slight relief knowing the machine was ready for the long flight. Hunter walked beside me, silent, with a backpack on his shoulder.
Outside, by the complex entrance, James Larson was already waiting with two girls. From behind his back peeked curious faces: Emily, his fourteen-year-old niece, with long blonde hair, and her friend, a cute black girl, slightly older, with lively eyes that showed impatience. Larson introduced us, his voice trembling with gratitude.
"This is Emily, my niece, and her friend Keila," he said, hugging the girls. "Thank you, Ork, for agreeing to give them a ride."
I nodded, trying to smile to calm the girls, who were clearly nervous about the flight. Hunter, as always, was brief but shook Larson's hand with the firmness of a military man. After a short farewell, we headed toward the covered hangar where ATLAS was waiting.
We were a few steps from the hangar when time seemed to stop. The clock showed 3:52 PM when from the direction of the desert, where our base was located forty miles away, came an ominous whistling roar. It grew, cutting through the air like a knife, and a ringing filled my ears. The ground underfoot shuddered, and I froze, unable to comprehend what was happening. The whistle turned into a gurgling, raging hiss that made my blood run cold. In the distance, where the top-secret military base "Sigma-7" was located, the sky flashed with an unnatural light, as if someone had turned on a giant spotlight.
"Run!" Hunter screamed hysterically, his voice barely piercing the roar.
He grabbed Emily and Keila by the hands and dragged them toward the entrance of the underground hangar where ATLAS stood.
I tried to follow him, but the asphalt under my feet swayed like a ship's deck in a storm. Losing my balance, I fell to my hands and knees, my palms digging into hot ash that in a split second carpeted the parking lot. Above, the glass of high-rises shattered, shards raining down, glittering in the orange light flooding everything. Buildings trembled, their facades cracking, illuminated by bright flashes, and parked cars, like toys, flew into the air and crashed down meters from me. Black-and-white clouds overhead contracted and writhed as if alive under the light of unnatural flame.
"Hunter! Hunter!" I tried to shout, but only hoarse sounds, drowned out by the roar of destruction, escaped my throat.
Raising my head, I saw Hunter and Larson crawling toward me on all fours, their faces twisted with a mix of fear and determination. The ground continued to heave and fall but not as violently as in the first seconds. Hunter crawled closer, grabbed my shoulder, and dragged me toward the hangar. I tried to get up but saw Larson, who had fallen behind, collapse, crushed by the bed of a pickup truck that had been flung his way. His face contorted in pain, his eyes widened in horror, but a strange, almost blissful smile flickered in them, as if he were balancing between suffering and relief.
Hunter, not wasting a second, rushed to Larson. With incredible effort, he pushed the overturned pickup truck, and it, with a deafening screech, flipped over onto its wheels.
"Get up! Faster!" Hunter shouted, shaking Larson, but he, stunned by pain, didn't respond.
Hunter hoisted him onto his back, despite his own limp, and crawled toward the hangar. I, fighting dizziness, followed him, clutching at the asphalt covered in ash and debris. The girls, Emily and Keila, were already at the staircase leading into the hangar, their faces white with terror. We squeezed inside, and at that moment, everything around was illuminated by bright flame, as if the sky had decided to swallow the earth.
Descending the emergency stairs, we reached ATLAS standing deep in the hangar. Hunter, still carrying Larson, hesitated for a few seconds, throwing a last glance at the burning city, then slammed the door shut with a bang and started descending toward us, his breathing labored from the strain. The girls and I pulled Larson into the cabin, pushing his legs forward through the narrow door. His face was pale, his eyes closed, but he was still breathing. I tumbled in after, feeling my hands tremble from adrenaline. Hunter slammed the door shut, and I rushed to the control panel.
The hangar's automation, located deep underground and forty miles from the blast's epicenter, was almost undamaged. I pressed the emergency open button, and the massive doors scraped apart. "Alice," integrated into ATLAS's systems, instantly started the engines. The four super-powered electric motors, fed by hydrogen fuel cells, roared, and the machine, despite the cargo and chaos outside, began to lift vertically. I watched the holographic screen where "Alice" displayed system status data and prayed her algorithms wouldn't fail.
When ATLAS burst out of the hangar and rapidly gained altitude, I finally looked down through the panoramic cockpit windows.
The city, which had recently seemed an oasis of calm, had turned into hell. Parks burned, their greenery devoured by flame, and the stone facades of high-rises melted like wax. The waters of the city reservoir seemed to boil, emitting steam that mixed with black smoke rising from the ports and hotels along the shore. Hot air created cyclonic vortices that swirled dust, debris, and even large objects lifted from the ground with ferocious force. The sky above the city was shrouded in thick soot, with only orange flashes piercing through the haze.
I turned to Hunter, who, breathing heavily, was trying to bring Larson around. Emily and Keila sat in a corner of the cabin, hugging each other, their eyes filled with tears. I felt fear tightening my chest.