The drill-bit above us was a spinning sun of sparks, screaming as it chewed through the ten-inch reinforced steel of the vault ceiling. Dust—fine, ancient, and smelling of cold iron—choked the air.
"They're coming through!" Kael roared, leveling his shotgun at the ceiling. "Kid, if you're gonna blow this place, do it before those white-suits start dropping like rain!"
I looked at the silver flute in my hand. It was cold, unnervingly light, and etched with micro-circuitry that seemed to pulse in time with my own heartbeat.
"Silas, come with us," I said, grabbing the Hollow Man’s thin shoulder. "There’s a venting shaft behind the primary tanks. We can make it if we run now!"
Silas shook his head, his milky eyes fixed on the manual pressure-wheels. "The valves are rusted shut, Leo. They w
