Page 124 of In the Dark of the Past

“And he knows we’re all here,” Atlas said. “He knows who Evan is. He knows what he told us.”

The ceiling groaned as the first impact rattled the ceiling tiles. The second bowed the steel bar Atlas had installed over Cade’s back door. The third was a crack—a sound no one wanted to hear above them.

Something heavy hit the roof hard enough to rain plaster dust.

“Move!” I barked. “Take cover. Now!”

Atlas yanked Evan into Cade’s office. Cade racked the shotgun, the sound sharp and ugly in the dark. River shifted behind my good side, not hiding, positioning. Myra pulled Nivea behind a stack of beer cases. Libby pressed her back to the wall. Autumn was under a table with her laptop out, wearing the expression of someone who intended to document everything.

Another impact. The power flickered and then died.

Darkness swallowed the room, broken only by the amber glow of the emergency bulb Cade had wired during the last blizzard.

Atlas’s voice was a blade. “Roof entry. Not the door.”

A metallic groan sounded, then the nightmare sound of screws tearing free.

They were prying open the ventilation hatch.

A panel ripped free above us and skidded across the ceiling. River’s breath hitched, and I reached back, found her hand, and squeezed once. It wasn’t comfort, it was a promise.

“We’re leaving,” I decided. “Through the bar. Cade, kill the sound system, leave the lights.”

He sprinted out.

Above us, something scraped, the sound low and deliberate.

Atlas raised his gun. “We’re out of time.”

“Go!”

The group surged into motion. Myra dragged Nivea. Andra pulled Libby. Autumn stuck close with her laptop hugged to her chest. Atlas kept one arm clamped around Evan’s shoulders.

River stayed at my side, her steps in perfect sync with mine.

We hadn’t made it ten steps before the emergency lights flickered and the room dropped into pitch darkness.

A half-second later, red pulsed through the windows.

Not dozens of red eyes. Scores of them.

Masks lined the street, illuminated by the storm’s light, rows of glowing lenses in white masks staring into the bar.

“They’re not really attacking the bar,” Andra said. “This is a performance. They just want us to see them.”

River stiffened.

I stepped closer. “Eyes down,” I whispered. “Don’t even give them your attention.”

A distorted, mechanical voice came from the hallway. Too close for comfort.

“River Bennett.”

We all went still.

“You were warned,” the voice continued, echoing like a verdict.

Atlas yelled, “Move. Now.”