Chapter 110 110
Kaelen's POV:
The facility looked exactly like Marcus said it would: a big industrial building in the middle of fucking nowhere, surrounded by chain-link fence and dead grass. A sign near the entrance said "Greenfield Water Treatment" in faded blue letters, and there were a couple of trucks parked by the main gate like this was just another boring job site.
It was 5:47 AM. Sky still dark, but getting lighter at the edges. It was cold as hell, too. My breath came out in little white clouds every time I exhaled. It was probably too cold for normal people to walk around in bare shirt and jacket as I was.
We'd parked about half a mile away, hidden behind some trees off the main road. The drive had taken almost seven hours because Marcus insisted on avoiding highways, sticking to back roads where there were no cameras and no witnesses. I'd slept maybe forty minutes total, wedged between Marlen and Lucian in the back seat while Marcus drove.
Now we were here. And I couldn't stop shaking.
Not from the cold, but from everything else.
"You remember the route?" Marcus asked. We were crouched behind a cluster of bushes maybe two hundred feet from the north side of the building. The service entrance was right there, a metal door with no handle on the outside, and next to it, barely visible in the pre-dawn light, the ventilation grate he'd told me about.
"Yeah." My voice came out rough. "Through the vent, stay left at the first junction, right at the second, drop down into the maintenance corridor, third door on the right is the control room."
"Good." He checked his watch. "I'm going in at six sharp. That gives you thirteen minutes to get into position. Once you hear the alarms, you move. Don't wait, don't hesitate. Just go."
"I know."
"And Kaelen." He grabbed my arm, fingers tight. "If you can't find the control room, if something goes wrong, you get out. You don't play hero. You get back to your brother and sister and you run. Understand?"
I wanted to say something smart. Something about how I wasn't planning on dying today, how I'd survived a harpoon through the chest so a couple of guards weren't gonna stop me. But the words wouldn't come.
"Yeah," I said instead. "I understand."
He let go of my arm and looked at Marlen and Lucian, who were waiting by a tree about ten feet back. Marlen had her arms crossed, jaw tight, and Lucian was bouncing on his heels like he couldn't stand still.
"You two stay here until it's over. If Kaelen calls, you go in. If I call, you run. No arguments."
"No arguments," Marlen repeated, but her tone said she was absolutely going to argue if she thought it was necessary.
Marcus nodded once, then turned and started moving toward the east side of the building, staying low, using the shadows for cover. Within thirty seconds he was gone, swallowed by the darkness.
I looked at the ventilation grate. It was maybe two feet by two feet, bolted to the concrete wall about three feet off the ground. Small and tight, the kind of space that would be uncomfortable even if my chest wasn't still healing from a hole the size of my fist.
This was gonna suck.
"Kael." Marlen's voice, quiet. I turned and she was right there, closer than I'd realized, and before I could say anything she grabbed me in a hug so tight it made my ribs ache.
"Don't die," she said into my shoulder. "I mean it. Don't you dare."
"I won't."
"You better not. I just got you back." She pulled away, eyes wet but face hard. "Now go. Before I change my mind and tie you to a tree."
Lucian didn't hug me. Just held out his fist for a bump, which was his way of saying the same thing without getting emotional about it.
"Kick their asses," he said.
"Planning on it."
I turned and moved toward the building, staying low like Marcus had shown me. The grass was wet with dew and soaked through my shoes almost immediately, cold seeping into my socks, but I ignored it. Ignored everything except the grate getting closer with every step.
When I reached the wall I pressed my back against the concrete and listened. Nothing. No footsteps, no voices, no alarms. Just the hum of machinery somewhere inside and the distant sound of a truck on the highway.
The grate was held in place by four bolts, rusted but solid. I pulled out the multi-tool Marcus had given me and started working on the first one. My hands were shaking, which made it harder, and the bolt didn't want to turn at first. I had to use both hands and really lean into it before it finally gave with a screech that sounded way too loud in the quiet.
I froze. Waited. Nothing.
Second bolt. Third. Fourth.
The grate came loose and I caught it before it could clang against the wall, setting it down carefully in the grass. The vent opening behind it was dark and smelled like dust and old metal.
5:54 AM.
Six minutes until Marcus went in. Six minutes to get into position.
I took a breath, then another, then climbed into the vent.
It was worse than I'd imagined. The space was barely wide enough for my shoulders, and I had to kind of shimmy forward on my elbows and knees, my back scraping against the top of the duct with every movement. The metal was cold through my shirt and the darkness was total, like being inside a coffin, and I had to keep reminding myself to breathe, just breathe, don't think about the walls closing in.
The wound in my chest didn't like this at all. Every time I pulled myself forward it sent a spike of pain through my whole torso, sharp enough to make me see stars. I bit down on my lip to keep from making noise and tasted blood.
Left at the first junction. The duct split into two directions and I went left, just like Marcus said. The metal groaned under my weight and I stopped moving, heart pounding, waiting for it to collapse or for someone to hear and come investigate.
Nothing. Just the hum of the machinery, louder now.
I kept going.
Right at the second junction. This section was tighter somehow, or maybe I was just losing it, the claustrophobia getting to me. I could feel sweat running down my back despite the cold, and my breathing was too fast, too shallow.
Annabeth. Think about Annabeth.
She was somewhere below me. In a cell, probably, scared and alone, thinking I was dead. I was gonna find her. I was gonna get her out of here. I was gonna burn this whole fucking place to the ground if I had to.
The duct ended at another grate, this one looking down into a corridor. Dim emergency lighting, concrete walls, no one in sight. I checked my watch: 5:59 AM.
One minute.
I positioned myself above the grate and waited, my whole body tense, the pain in my chest a constant throb that matched my heartbeat. Thirty seconds. Twenty. Ten.
And then, distant but unmistakable, the sound of an explosion.
Alarms started blaring immediately, red lights flashing in the corridor below. I heard shouting, footsteps, people running toward the noise.
Marcus.
I kicked the grate out and dropped down into the corridor.