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Chapter Text

Patterson awoke to the annoyingly insistent chirp of her new phone.

"Ugh, whyyy," she groaned, snatching it off the coffee table and checking the display. The call was coming from a blocked number.

Noticing the time, she groaned again. No wonder she still felt like shit. She couldn't have been asleep for more than five minutes.

The phone buzzed again.

"Who is it?" Kurt asked. Reade anxiously got to his feet as Tasha sat up and stretched.

"Don't know yet," she answered. The only people who had their new phone numbers were Rich, Ice Cream, and the people associated with him, so whatever they were calling about had to be important.

She accepted the call with a yawn, immediately putting it on speaker. "Hello?"

"The FBI knows where all of you are and they've authorized a drone strike. You don't have much time." The voice was deep. Mechanical. Whoever it was, they were clearly using a voice modulator.

"What?!" Kurt demanded, standing up and striding over to the couch, bringing his face close to the darkened phone screen. It was almost as if he thought he could look through it and lock eyes with the mysterious caller.

"You heard what I said, Kurt."

Patterson sat up, her eyes wide with shock. "Who is this?" she asked.

"Worry about that later. The drones will be there in seconds. You need to move! Now!"

The line went dead.

Patterson scrambled up from the couch, kicking the blanket to the floor and shoving her phone into her pocket.

"We've got to get out of here."

Weller nodded his agreement and started for the door. "Let's move."

"No Kurt, wait. We won't get clear in time," Reade said, pulling the trapdoor up. "The tunnels are our best bet, unstable or not."

Realizing that he was right and that they didn't have time to argue, Tasha climbed down into the hole. Reade followed.

Patterson was halfway down the ladder before she realized that Kurt was still in the cabin.

"Kurt, get out of there."

He hesitated at the entrance to the tunnels, glancing back towards the door that Jane had disappeared out of not quite ten minutes before, obviously concerned for his wife.

"Guys, come on!" Tasha shouted.

"Go! We're right behind you!"

"Jane's far enough away; she'll be fine," Patterson tried to reassure him, panic bleeding into her words.

"She's going to think that we're dead," he responded, jaw clenched, pain clear in his voice.

"Do you think she'd rather we have her think we're dead for a little while or stand here discussing it until we actually do die?!" She didn't wait for a response. Instead, she started back up the ladder, having every intention of dragging him into the tunnels if he wouldn't cooperate.

To her relief, he nodded and started down the ladder. "You're right. Let's go."

Patterson climbed back down into the hole, quickly being re-swallowed by the suffocating darkness. Weller followed, only inches above her.

They glanced up for a split second, hearing a distant whooshing noise.


That's the drone, Patterson thought as her feet hit the ground.


"Patterson, run!" Weller yelled, yanking down the trapdoor and jumping the rest of the way down the ladder.


They bolted, desperately trying to escape.



An explosion shook the tunnel.

Then another.

Someone screamed.

Patterson and Kurt were thrown to the ground.

A stone fell from above, clattering onto the damp cobblestoned floor.

Then another.

And another.

And then, with a terrible cracking sound, the tunnel collapsed.