Vanguard | Post-Apocalyptic YA

Part 26: Everything is Under Control

"We'll only take one," I pant while gulping down shallow breaths of air as we run down the corridor.

Although my companions—save for Nelly, of course—weren't exactly enthusiastic about my logic of taking advantage of the situation, they've still been following me to the eastern ferry terminal. Luckily, that entrance to that is on the same level as the brig, and we just need to take one of the horizontal spokes leading from the central core of the base to the ring circling the exterior. Because both the core and its spokes are restricted to non-essential personnel, our going is unobstructed. That is, until we exit a door to the public space.

Dunstan's fire alarm has worked too well. Not only has he created a distraction—no one cares about us, only about saving themselves—it has also created chaos. We run straight into the middle of a mob, pushing and cursing, shoving and grumbling, trying to get to the ferry behind the closed metal doors.

"Are you sure you thought this through?" I ask Dunstan as he elbows his way to my side. Ray and I need to be the only pilots aboard the vessel and we cannot be taking more than our three vetted passengers. The people who are fleeing this mock emergency are definitely not getting a ride from me topside today. I've decided to not even try to take the other ferry—no matter how angry it'll make Bradford—to ease my guilt about the remotest possibility of permanently stranding them down here. But that's as generous as I'm willing to get.

He punches some commands into the tablet. "Just hold yer horses," he says before the incessant alarm finally comes to an end.

Almost immediately, the hundreds of people around us begin to calm. The throng becomes quiet and the people take a step back, diffusing the tension. After a few seconds of reassessing the situation, they start to disperse.

While they head away from the doors, we move closer to it. Dad swipes his wrist at the chip reader, but it doesn't take. He tries the keypad, too, but that also doesn't open the doors.

"A little help here," he says to Dunstan, but the mechanic looks perplexed.

"It's a no-go. I think they're on to me," he replies when the commands he punched into his tablet fail to have any success. "If we just got those doors open—"

As if by a magic incantation, his wish works and the steel doors to the east ferry gangway slide open. But instead of a straight shot down the enclosed walkway to the submersible craft, our path is blocked by five masked peacekeepers.

"One for each of us," I say, assessing our opponents while rolling up my sleeves. "We can take 'em."

"You want to fight our way out?" Nelly asks from beside me. Her tone is a mix between amused and impressed.

"Yeah. Just watch their stun guns," I say, pointing out the non-lethal, but temporarily debilitating devices that use electrical charges to shock non-compliant opponents many are holding in their hands. I've had the distinct displeasure of feeling the effects of one when I started pilot training, and I really, really don't want to experience that again. Muscle pain for two days and a headache that felt like a knife to the brain was not my idea of fun. I guess that's why they use them.

With five peacekeepers standing shoulder-to-shoulder blocking our way, we have no way to take the ferry without going through them. While Dad and Dunstan are still hanging back, Ray pushes his way past me.

"Sorry, guys," he says, apologizing to our anonymous antagonists, people we've lived with all our lives and are just doing their jobs as Lamer ordered. We don't want to hurt them as much as they probably don't want to hurt us, but here we both are. Barreling with his entire weight into the middle of the line, Ray's shoulder rams into the center guard's midsection, and they both go down with a thud.