Down by Brett Battles

door and rushed inside, the rifle pressed against his shoulder. But the office was unoccupied.
    “Director Mahajan?” he called. “Director?”
    He made a quick circuit, checking everywhere Mahajan might hide, but he wasn’t anywhere in the room. A second door led to a private bathroom, complete with a shower and a walk-in closet full of clothes. No director, though.
    As he reentered the man’s office, Kusum hurried in.
    “Where is he?” she asked.
    “Not here.”
    “You checked everywhere?”
    “Of course I did.”
    Pointing at the doorway he’d just come through, she asked, “What’s in there?”
    “Bathroom. Closet.”
    Kusum ran over and peeked through the door. “Did you check behind the clothes?”
    “No,” he admitted.
    “Come on, then.”
    They raced into the closet. In addition to dozens of shirts hanging on the racks, there were at least as many suits and pairs of pants. They split up—Kusum taking the left rack, Sanjay the right—and began pushing the clothes apart.
    Sanjay was working through a section of light gray suits when he suddenly stopped. “Kusum!”
    “You found him?”
    “No. But I found where he must have gone.”
    Built into the wall behind the suits was a door, its outline barely noticeable.
    Sanjay pushed on it. A soft click, followed by the door swinging open.
    Inside was a spiral staircase. And from not too far above, Sanjay heard the sound of heavy breathing and footsteps.
    __________
     
    D IRECTOR MAHAJAN HAD no inkling of the drama taking place in the lobby outside his office. He had just finished a conference call with the other members of the directorate, and was working his way through the security feeds from outside his base. So far, damage appeared to be confined to the surrounding walls and some vehicles that had been struck by debris.
    He could see no signs of the strike force that had been dispatched to find the perpetrators, but guessed the team was searching the nearby streets. The good news was, the explosions appeared to have stopped.
    He leaned back in his chair. If the attack was truly over, then NB551 was lucky. From the reports Director Johnson had shared with the other directors, other bases were experiencing more intensive fighting. He was more than happy to avoid that fate.
    Of course, this could be just a lull, and enemy troops could soon begin pouring through the gaps in the wall. He grabbed another antacid tablet from the bottle on his desk, and had just started to chew when he heard a gunshot in the lobby.
    He jerked in surprise and stared at the door, his mind struggling to explain the sound away.
    The second boom brought him out of his trance.
    He’d been wrong. Whoever had attacked the walls had made it inside and were now just beyond his door.
    Not all Project Eden bases were equal. The majority were constructed from variations on a common design, with entrances limited to the central elevators, which also contained ladders in the shafts to be used in emergencies. There were clear dangers to this single exit path, but the old directorate had felt this design would not only cut down on the chances of the underground bases being discovered, but also serve as an easy way of cutting off a facility if some kind of internal uprising occurred.
    To calm the fears of several high-ranking Project members, certain facilities had been equipped with an additional emergency exit, known only to that particular facility’s director. NB551 was one such base, hence the reason Mahajan chose it for his headquarters. He had never expected to use the emergency exit, but was glad for it now.
    Even before the echo of the second shot had faded, he ran toward the bathroom door and rushed into the walk-in closet. He went straight to the set of gray suits, pushed them aside, and opened the door.
    At first he took the stairs two at a time, but this pace lasted only half a flight before his age and weight conspired against him and forced him to slow.
    His breaths came