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"Sir, you need to sign back in."
The gate guard stepped in front of me before I made it ten feet past the barracks. Young. Probably graduated last year. Still believed in protocol.
"Move," I said.
He didn't. "Sir, no one leaves base without clearance from—"
"There's a bomb in the dorm."
His hand went to his sidearm. Not to draw. Just resting there. "Sir, if you have intelligence regarding a threat, you need to report to—"
"I'm reporting it to you. Right now. Get on the radio and evacuate the east wing."
"I can't do that without verification from—"
I shoved past him. He caught my arm. Stronger grip than I expected.
"Sir, I will detain you if—"
"Kid, in forty minutes everyone in that building dies. You want to be the one who stopped me?"
His face went pale, but his hand stayed locked on my arm. "I need you to come with me to—"
I twisted out of his grip and ran.
He didn't shoot. Probably still filling out the mental paperwork. I heard him yelling into his radio, but I was already past the admin building, cutting across the drill yard.
The dorm was still standing. Windows intact. A few lights on in the upper floors. Someone's music bleeding through a cracked window. Pop trash from five years ago.
I hit the east entrance at full speed and slammed my palm against the scanner. Red light. Access denied.
"Goddammit."
I kicked the door. Reinforced steel. Didn't even dent.
Behind me, boots on gravel. The gate guard and two more. One of them had a rifle.
"Sir, step away from the door."
I turned. "You need to evacuate this building. Now."
The one with the rifle kept it low, not aimed, but ready. "Sir, we have a report you've made unverified threat claims. We need you to come with us while we—"
"There's no time for this."
"Sir, if you have credible intelligence, we will follow protocol and—"
"Your protocol gets them killed!"
That got their attention. All three of them went still.
The rifle came up an inch.
I raised my hands. Slowly. "I'm not the threat. But someone in that building is. You evacuate now, or you spend the rest of your life explaining why you didn't."
The one in charge, older guy with a scar across his jaw, pulled out his radio. "Control, this is Gate Three. We have a possible Code Yellow at the east dorm. Requesting clearance to initiate precautionary evac."
Static. Then a woman's voice, bored. "Gate Three, what's the source of the threat?"
"Unverified claim from Instructor Hale."
A pause. Longer than it should've been.
"Negative, Gate Three. Instructor Hale is flagged for psych eval as of oh-six-hundred. Detain and escort to medical."
The rifle came up all the way.
"You've got to be kidding me," I said.
"Sir, I need you to get on your knees."
"I'm not—"
"On your knees. Now."
I looked at the dorm. Third floor, fourth window from the left. Danny's room. Light was on. He was probably awake. Probably staring at his phone, scrolling through whatever garbage kept him from sleeping.
Thirty-eight minutes left.
I dropped.
Not to my knees. To the ground. Flat. Hands over my head.
The older guard moved in, pulled my arms back, cuffed me. "Sir, you're being detained for—"
"Just get them out," I said. "Please."
He didn't answer. They hauled me up and marched me toward the admin building.
I twisted around, trying to see the dorm. "You're killing them. You know that, right? You're—"
"Sir, you need to stop talking."
They shoved me into a holding room. Concrete walls. One table. Two chairs. A camera in the corner with a blinking red light.
I sat.
The door locked behind them.
I stared at the camera. "I'm telling you there's a bomb. East dorm. You've got thirty-five minutes. Maybe less."
No response.
I stood up, walked to the door, pounded on it. "You need to evacuate that building!"
Nothing.
I kicked it. Solid. No give.
Twenty minutes passed. Then thirty.
I stopped pounding. Sat back down. Stared at the table.
The blast, when it came, was muffled by distance and concrete, but I felt it. A low thump that rattled the chair legs.
Then alarms.
Then voices in the hall, running, shouting.
I closed my eyes.
The door slammed open. The older guard, the one who'd cuffed me, stood there. His face was gray.
"How did you know?" he said.
"Let me out."
"How did you—"
"Let me out!"
He stepped aside.
I ran.
The east wing was gone. Not collapsed. Gone. Just a crater and a few support beams sticking up like broken ribs. Smoke everywhere. The smell of burning plastic and something worse.
I found Danny thirty feet from the blast site. Or what was left of him.
He was still holding his phone.
I knelt next to him. His eyes were open. Staring at nothing.
"I tried," I said.
He didn't answer.
Behind me, voices. Medics. Guards. Someone shouting orders.
I stayed there until someone pulled me away.
They took me back to the holding room. Different room, same setup. This time a woman came in. Captain's insignia. I didn't know her.
"Instructor Hale," she said. "I need you to tell me everything."
I told her.
She didn't believe me. I could see it in her face. But she wrote it all down anyway.
When I finished, she stood up. "We'll need you to stay on base while we investigate."
"Investigate what? They're dead."
"We'll determine the cause of—"
"I already told you the cause. Someone in that dorm set a bomb. You find out who, you find out why."
She left.
I sat there for another hour. Maybe two. Time felt wrong. Too slow. Like the room was trying to hold me in place.
Then the explosion.
Closer this time. The whole building shook. Lights went out. Emergency floods kicked in, red and harsh.
I stood up. The door was still locked.
Another blast. The wall behind me cracked. Dust and concrete chunks rained down.
I backed away from the wall. Looked at the door.
It wasn't locked anymore. The frame had bent.
I kicked it open and ran.
The hall was chaos. Smoke. Sparks from severed cables. Someone screaming.
I found the exit and shoved through.
Outside, the base was burning. Not just the dorm. Everything. The admin building. The barracks. The armory.
And in the middle of it all, standing in the drill yard, I saw him.
Danny.
Alive.
He was staring at the flames. His face was blank. No fear. No shock. Just... nothing.
I ran toward him. "Danny!"
He turned. Looked at me. And smiled.
Then the ground opened up.
Not an explosion. A sinkhole. The whole drill yard just collapsed inward, swallowing everything.
I fell.
And kept falling.
Until I hit.
And then—
The bell.
Six a.m.
I opened my eyes.
My quarters. My bed. The same goddamn ceiling.
I sat up. Looked at my hands. No burns. No blood.
I grabbed the knife from my desk drawer and carved one name into my left forearm, deep enough to scar.
Danny Locke.