Human Error

BOOK 1 // NINETEEN: The Warning

            The place was silent.

Our first few steps over the threshold were all I could hear, swiftly followed by the loud metal clunking of the door behind us. Then, nothing. I almost wanted to notice an alarm wailing in the distance, or pounding footsteps headed in our direction. At least that would give us some kind of indication about what was coming. Here, we were totally in the dark.

With the exception of the BioNeutral launch party, I'd not set foot in City Hall, but it had always seemed the kind of place that would be constantly buzzing with activity. This was where the capital, and by extension the country, was run. Dull moments were surely redundant, even in the network of deserted corridors interlinking above and below the main rooms.

And yet in that moment, for all the noise to be heard, Jace and I could've been the only people left on the planet.

"This way."

Perhaps he was thinking along the same lines – his words barely came louder than a whisper, though I needed nothing more amongst the silence. This was the place he'd no doubt spent countless hours, the labyrinth of corridors already mapped in his mind, and yet the way his eyes darted from wall to wall seemed to suggest striking unfamiliarity.

I said nothing as I followed his steps down the hall, keeping up the urgent pace with minimal disturbance. Every placement of my feet felt like a wrong move, with the very real risk of a bomb tearing through the floor, but for the sake of progress we had no choice. With what felt like the world closing in on us, there was more danger in staying put.

As we kept on, the corridors got narrower, and following Jace deeper into the building only seemed to remove what little light we'd been relying on in the first place. The walls were dotted with emergency bulbs, but they were doing precious little to tackle the darkness that lingered around every corner. Was this part of a security feature, or was I just imagining the way I could barely see three feet ahead? When every step felt like heading deeper into a maze that I'd never escape from, I didn't feel in a position to tell.

"Do you know what we're looking for?"

The question came out louder than expected, and part of me wanted to reach out and snatch the words back, like this would clear the air of an unintended giveaway. But Jace didn't even look back.

"I've got an idea," he said. "An idea of how my father likes to guard his secrets, at least."

Part of me wanted to ask more, but it was at this moment that Jace's footsteps appeared to slow, and I found myself coming to a natural halt in front of a wooden door. Unlike many of the others, it was unlabelled – but its inconspicuous appearance ended with the electronic silver keypad bolted above the handle. Its screen was blank, but I had a suspicion that getting inside would involve something a little more than Jace's security code.

"If we're going to find anything worth knowing," he said, "it's going to be in here."

"What is it?"

Jace looked at me, and I wished I could read the expression behind his thick glasses. "I don't know," he said, after a slight pause. "But it's something my dad definitely doesn't want me to find out."

Without the distraction of moving, my head was swimming again. My instinct was to steady myself on the wall, but touching anything around here felt like a fatal mistake. Instead, I tried to focus on Jace as he stepped closer to the keypad, hoping there was enough blood left in my head to keep me conscious for a little while longer.