Blind Eye by Jan Coffey

hadn’t used it since the start of the project. In a second, the screen lit up, startling her with its intensity. She wasn’t blind, at least. Turning the illuminated screen toward the room around her, she used the phone like a flashlight.
    Looking around the control room, Marion felt the nausea rise again within her.
    Nothing was moving. They were all dead.
    She sat there staring. Numbness spread through her limbs. She waited for someone to wake her up. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t real. Her face was wet. She tasted the saltiness of tears reaching her lips.
    The sound of sobbing startled her. It took a moment, but Marion realized she was the one making the sound. The scene before her remained unchanged. No one else was moving. It was only she who could act. But the thought was terrifying.
    Marion was a scientist, not a Girl Scout. As a child, she’d been a bookworm. Her family didn’t take vacations—her mother couldn’t afford it. Going camping was something the kids who had two parents talked about. As an adult, roughing it on vacation was staying at a two-star motel. She just wasn’t built that way. Even watching television, she’d never been able to get through a single episode of those survivor reality shows. She knew if she were ever in a situation like the ones they described, she’d be the one eliminated in the first hour.
    She was allergic to nature. She didn’t know CPR. The most complicated first aid she’d ever been able to handle was applying a Band-Aid. The sight of blood made her woozy.
    And now her worst fears had become a reality.
    Her thoughts were in a jumble, bordering on panic. She couldn’t figure out what she should do first. If anything.
    What about rescue efforts? she thought. The people at the power company who were sponsoring the research had to know by now that something had happened to their group. Where were they?
    Perhaps all she needed to do was wait and someone would arrive to rescue her.
    The light in the cell phone in her hand went off. The absolute darkness gave her a sharp jolt. She pressed the power button again to bring it back to life. The battery had only half a charge left.
    â€œHello…” she called softly into the room. Perhaps not everyone in the room was dead. What if someone was wounded and needed her help?
    Another thought struck her. Not everyone in the team had been in the control room when the shooters arrived. Eileen Arrington, Neil Gregory and Steven Huang were out there. Maybe hiding.
    â€œDr. Lee,” she called. She remembered her advisor had been the one by the door when the gunmen had stepped in.
    There was no response. She remembered the gun pointed at his head. The shot being fired. Dr. Lee falling.
    She struggled to her feet. What little she could see of the room danced in her vision. Marion had to lean against the desk to stop from going facedown. The phone went off on her again.
    â€œPlease don’t do this to me.” She pressed the on button. She glanced around. “Flashlights. Someone has to have a flashlight.”
    Hearing a voice, albeit her own, was a comfort. Marion didn’t bother to check her desk. She alreadyknew what she had or didn’t have there. She stepped toward the conference table. The sharp pain in her head had returned. She touched the back of her head. It hurt. Her hair was matted and crusty against her skin.
    Marion didn’t want to know the source of the blood. Whether it was a cut or a bullet wound, she didn’t need to know right now. She could move around. That was what mattered.
    She saw a body stretched out facedown on the conference table. A dried black pool of blood spread over the papers around him. She didn’t have to get closer to recognize Robert Eaton. Her stomach churned and tears burned her throat.
    â€œCalm…stay calm.”
    Her head continued to pound. Moving made it worse. She tried to think clearly. Of all of