Chapter 34: Midterm Crisis

Alex kicked the SUV door open and rolled onto the pavement as the vehicle slowed to turn a bend. Pain shot through his shoulder, but he scrambled to his feet and ran into the darkness.

"Stop him!" Ms. Vickers yelled from inside the SUV.

Footsteps pounded behind him as Alex darted between buildings. His mind raced faster than his feet. The FBI safe house was somewhere nearby—if he could just remember which street.

A bullet pinged off the brick wall beside him. Alex ducked into an alley, his heart pounding against his ribs.

"Alex!" Ethan's voice called out. "This way!"

He spotted Ethan waving wildly from behind a dumpster. Emily was there too, crouched low.

"How did you get away?" Alex gasped as he joined them.

"I kicked the driver when you jumped," Emily explained. "Chaos is a good distraction."

"We need to move," Ethan pushed. "They'll find us soon."

They crept through campus, avoiding streetlights and open areas until they reached the library. Despite the late hour, it was packed with students.

"Midterms," Emily whispered. "Everyone's studying."

"Perfect cover," Ethan said, pulling them toward the stairs. "We'll hide in plain sight."

On the third floor, they found a quiet study room and blocked the door with a chair.

"What just happened?" Emily asked once they were safe. "Who is Ms. Vickers really?"

"I don't know," Alex revealed. "But before she showed up, Ethan was about to tell us who the real mastermind is."

They both turned to Ethan, who looked worried.

"It's Professor Jenkins," he said softly. "Your art professor."

Alex felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. "That's impossible."

"Think about it," Ethan urged. "She's had access to your dorm room all semester through your art projects. She knows about your connection to everything that happened."

"And she suggested you include those paintings of Ethan in your show," Emily added. "She knew they'd draw attention."

Alex shook his head, unwilling to believe it. Professor Jenkins had been his guide, his supporter. And yet...

"We need to find Jasmine," he said, changing the subject. "Nathan still has her."

"But we don't even know where they are," Emily pointed out. "The text said the bell tower, but that's obviously a trap."

"Wait," Alex said suddenly. "What day is it?"

"Thursday," Ethan answered. "Why?"

"Midterms start tomorrow. Professor Jenkins is proctoring the art history exam in the morning."

Emily's eyes widened. "You think she's still planning to show up? Like nothing's happening?"

"It's the perfect cover," Alex realized. "Who would suspect a professor calmly giving an exam while plotting murder?"

"So what's your plan?" Ethan asked. "Walk into her exam and accuse her in front of everyone?"

Before Alex could answer, his phone buzzed with a text message from Jasmine's number:

Pass your test or your friend fails life. Bring what belongs to me by 9 AM. Room 307.

Attached was a picture of Jasmine tied to a chair in what looked like a classroom—with Professor Jenkins standing beside her.

"She's not even hiding it anymore," Emily whispered.

Alex showed them the message. "The art history exam is in Room 307 at 9 AM."

"We need to call the FBI," Ethan said, reaching for his phone.

"No!" Alex grabbed his hand. "She'll kill Jasmine if she sees agents."

"Then what? We just walk into her trap?"

Alex thought for a moment. "Not we. Me. I have to take that exam."

When Alex walked into Room 307 the next morning, the scene looked eerily normal. Twenty nervous students sat at desks, pencils and blue books ready. Professor Jenkins stood at the front, calmly distributing test papers.

No sign of Jasmine. No sign of Nathan or Ms. Vickers.

"Mr. Chen," Professor Jenkins said with a smile. "Cutting it close, aren't we? Please take a seat."

Alex searched the room, his heart pounding. Where was Jasmine? Had it all been a bluff?

He sat at an empty desk, watching Professor Jenkins closely. She looked totally normal in her usual blazer and glasses. Not like someone who had kidnapped a student or plotted with killers.

"You will have two hours to complete the exam," she announced. "Please write clearly and support your answers with specific examples from the text. You may begin."

Alex opened his test booklet to find a different message written on the first page:

Storage room. Back of room. Don't look now.

He looked at the other students, but they were all focused on their exams. No one seemed to notice anything strange.

Hands shaking, Alex pretended to work while his mind raced. Jasmine must be in the storage closet. But how could he check without telling Professor Jenkins?

After twenty long minutes, Alex raised his hand. "Professor, may I use the restroom?"

"Of course," she said. "Leave your exam on your desk."

As Alex walked toward the door, he purposely knocked over his backpack, spilling books across the floor near the storage closet.

"Sorry," he mumbled, kneeling to gather his things.

While crouched down, he peered under the closet door. A pair of shoes—Jasmine's distinctive purple sneakers—were visible inside.

Alex's heart raced as he returned to his seat. Jasmine was living, just feet away. But how could he help her with a room full of students and Professor Jenkins watching his every move?

The minutes ticked by as Alex actually worked on his test, unable to think of a better plan. The art history questions were challenging—all about Renaissance techniques and symbolism—but his thought kept drifting to the closet.

Halfway through the test, the classroom door opened. Ethan walked in, dressed in a college security uniform.

"Professor Jenkins?" he said formally. "You're needed in the dean's office immediately."

She frowned. "I'm proctoring an exam."

"It's urgent, ma'am. Something about the senior art exhibition."

Alex held his breath as Professor Jenkins paused, then nodded.

"Continue working," she told the class. "I'll return shortly."

As soon as she left with Ethan, Alex jumped up and ran to the storage room. The other kids looked up, confused.

"Keep working," he told them. "This is part of a security situation."

He unlocked the closet door to find Jasmine gagged and tied to a chair, just like in the picture. Her eyes widened when she saw him.

"It's okay," he whispered, removing the gag. "We're getting you out of here."

"Alex, it's a trap!" she gasped. "Jenkins isn't working alone—"

The classroom door slammed shut. Alex turned to see Ms. Vickers standing there, gun pointed at the terrified children.

"Everyone stay calm," she announced. "This is now a hostage situation."

Alex stepped in front of Jasmine protectively. "Let the students go. This is between us."

Ms. Vickers smiled coldly. "Oh, but they're part of the experiment now."

"Experiment?"

"Professor Reed's formula wasn't just for cancer treatment," Ms. Vickers stated. "It enhances brain function. Imagine—students taking exams with superhuman focus and memory. The perfect test subjects."

Horror dawned on Alex as he noticed the water bottles on each desk—bottles that hadn't been there when he arrived.

"You drugged them," he realized.

"Enhanced them," Ms. Vickers amended. "And now we'll see if it works."

Before Alex could reply, gunshots echoed from the hallway. The kids screamed and ducked under their desks.

The door burst open, and Ethan stumbled in, blood spreading across his security uniform.

"Run," he gasped, falling to the floor.

Behind him stood Professor Jenkins—with Noah's face.