Harper ran up the steps near the empty orchestra pit. Only the podium remained on the stage.
Heath had been behind Harper as she’d headed to the stage, or so she’d thought, but she’d lost him. She glanced over her shoulder at the escaping vortex of bodies. There was no finding him, or even getting to him, in the panicked crowd as it bottlenecked at the exits. He could take care of himself. He wasn’t likely to fall and get trampled.
“Emily!” The alarm still blaring, Harper crept into the shadows backstage. Though growing distant, the cacophony of those fleeing the building still resounded in her ears. Massive curtains and a myriad of props crowded the space. Above her was a catwalk and the fly system of ropes, counterweights, and pulleys, accessed via an opening above. The fly tower. She knew it from her theater days in school.
The complicated maze of rooms backstage was perfect for hiding a bomb. Fear corded her throat.
“Emily! Please, we have to get out of here now. Where are you?”
What if she didn’t find her sister in time? Why had she exited the stage on this side? Maybe Emily was simply using a different exit and was already outside.
Harper hurried past dressing rooms with big mirrors. A plethora of costumes. Finally, the crossover. The hallway behind the stage that led to the other side. She ran past more rooms—storage areas for props.
“Emily!”
From beneath her, she heard a voice, but it sounded distant and muffled. Emily? “Please keep talking so I can find you.”
Was Emily in the trap room beneath the stage?
“Emily, there’s probably a bomb here,” Harper shouted. “Meet me halfway. We need to get out of here.”
Terror could paralyze her if she let it. She hurried around the corner. Still no Emily. “Where are you? Come on, let’s go. Emily, there’s a bomb.”
Harper found a stairwell and clanked down the studded metal until she stood in the empty space below the stage. The trap room. Stage lift equipment. Boxes. Props. But no Emily.
Emily’s scream was muted and came from beneath her yet again.
“Emily!” The hair on the back of Harper’s neck stood up as she found yet another stairwell. Her rapidly descending footsteps echoed eerily against the walls. At the bottom of the steps, she entered another doorway and pushed through a heavy curtain. Crates cluttered the place. Another storage space beneath the trap room.
“Emily?”
“I’m here!”
Harper continued past the crates to find her sister.
Emily held Dawson to her as she crouched on the floor. “It’s James. He’s unconscious.”
“Why is he even down here?”
“Maybe to find Dawson? I saw him wander off while I was making my speech.” Her words thick with emotion, she stood with the boy. “It looks like James fell and hit his head.”
Harper rushed to her sister. “Let’s go. I’ll get James. We have to get out of here.”
Dawson lifted his face from Emily’s shoulder and pointed. “That man. He hit my daddy.”
Emily stared at the child. “What man? I don’t see anyone.”
Fear slithered up Harper’s spine as she glanced around the space filled with shadows and dark corners and more stage props.
Her limbs shaking as she stood, Harper blinked back the surging tears. What looked to be a timer was attached to a stack of crates labeled COSTUMES.
Five minutes and thirty-three seconds.
Thirty-two.
Thirty-one.
Emily’s eyes widened. “Is that what I think it is?”
Harper stumbled. The previous bombs in Grayback were only practice for this one big event. She guessed this would be a much bigger bomb—a highly explosive device joined with incendiary material to create a fire. In other words, whatever wasn’t obliterated by the explosion would be consumed by fire.
Her knees almost gave out. No tears came this time. Only hopeless determination to save her sister, James, and Dawson. “Yes”—her words were barely a whisper now—“we have to get away.”
“It’s too late,” Emily said. “We won’t make it.”
“Of course we will. We’ll get away.” She tugged out her cell to call the authorities but got no signal beneath the stage. In her limited knowledge, if they could disengage the detonator, he couldn’t still activate the bomb. But Harper didn’t have a clue how to do that. What did it matter?
“Come on, we’re going to be okay.” She urged her sister forward and through the heavy curtain. “Go ahead. I’ll carry James.”
“What? He’s too heavy. You can’t. And I can’t leave him to die!”
Harper frowned. “No, of course you can’t. But he would want you to save his son. I’m the strongest between us. I’ll carry him fireman-style. Even small women can carry big men like that.” Or try to. “No time to argue, now run!”
Emily shifted Dawson in her arms, then entered the stairwell.
Harper focused on James. “I don’t suppose you could wake up and run out, could you?”
She tried to lift the man over her shoulder. He had a stocky frame. Many pounds of pure muscle. But she wasn’t going to beat that ticking bomb with him on her back. She wasn’t going to be able to climb those stairs.
God, do you hear me? Please help me!
James grunted. Was he finally coming to? She urged him to his feet. Relief rushed through her as she assisted his stumbling form forward. Adrenaline, an answer to her prayer, empowered her to hike the steps with him, but he was still much too slow.
And leaning awkwardly to the side. She shifted him against her.
Her heart hammered as tears choked her. Time was not on their side.
They made it to the second landing. She gasped.
If only she could make it through that door. Then she would have to find her way out of the maze of curtains and props to exit the building. “Come on, James. We can do this.”
She gasped her way up the next flight, her muscles straining under his dead weight. He’d passed out again.
No, no, no, no . . .
She let his body slide to the floor, wedged against the door, then plopped next to him to catch her breath. She would have to reposition him. “James, if you don’t wake up, neither of us is going to make it out of here.”
She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she left him to die, so that wasn’t an option.
Why am I so weak? I thought I was stronger than this! Not me, but God. God is stronger. Help me, Lord. Help us!
“The name of the LORD is a strong tower; The righteous runs into it and is safe.” She forced the Scripture out in between her gasps for breath. Squeezed her eyes shut and pictured that unmovable mountain as tears leaked out.
Harper thought of her mother crying over the bombing. She’d been crying over her brother who’d turned into a monster bomber.
And unless the police were searching the place. The bomb squad. SWAT. Someone. She and James were going to die.