Page 44 of Love at First Sighting

El

The bunker door opens with a harsh mechanical click and a puff of stale air. I turn the latch on the steel door and slink inside. Carter shut the stairwell door behind me, so I can’t hear anything happening up above, but if he got this door open for me, he has to be on his way back now.

I fumble forward and find a chain hanging above me, and I yank, turning on a dusty, flickering lightbulb.

The bunker is large enough to hold ten to fifteen PIS agents, should the worst Cold War–era fears come to pass.

There are several sets of bunk beds on each side and a few rows of filing cabinets and storage shelves lining the center.

The shelves contain everything from file boxes to canned goods that cannot be safe to eat anymore.

There are extra sets of clothes, some rusted guns, and some medicine stacked as well.

It smells like mothballs, cold concrete, and metal in here. I take careful, calculated steps toward the shelves and start my search. My plan is to grab the file and run, find Carter, and get us the hell out of here.

I find cases of expired iodine pills, fallout safety manuals, and old documents stamped with dates back in the fifties.

Carter wasn’t kidding when he said PIS had one foot in the Stone Age.

I spot a stack of white books along the back wall.

They’re all the same size, but the pages are gradually yellowing more the farther I go back in time.

As I approach, I find exactly what I’m looking for.

PIS Code of Conduct

“Thank god.” I reach the shelf of books and skim the faded years on the side. I migrate closer to the present time. The 1995 edition is thicker than the others.

I flip the flimsy book open to the right page and find a manila folder wedged between the vacation and sick leave policies.

Brody, John the tab reads.

Before I look inside, the door pops open with a rush of air and a sharp scratch of steel on concrete.

“Carter?” I call out.

No response.

And then I hear the click of dress shoes.

I’m not alone, and if Carter isn’t the one coming after me, someone else is. I duck behind one of the shelves and pull my knees to my chest. There are enough shadows down here that I can use them to my advantage.

I’ve never been scared of the dark, but the fear that someone must have taken down the Carter-shaped barrier between me and danger is debilitatingly scary. I pull out my key chain, sliding my alien-shaped key to Carter’s apartment between my knuckles.

Then the footsteps halt, and they feel so close, like someone is breathing down my neck. Hot, sinister breath that makes my hair stand on end. There’s a smell of smoke in the air.

I have a sneaking suspicion I know who is down here with me, and if I leave and don’t hold my own, Marcus is going to get away with all of this. I’m not sure if it’s a better idea to inch toward a corner and use the shadows as my best weapon or to face him head-on.

Whatever I do, I can’t show him I’m scared.

“I know you’re down here.” I recognize his voice from the hangar. Marcus. The silence between words feels like a roar. “We can make this easy, or we can make this hard. It’s all up to you.”

Marcus takes another step forward and his figure blocks out the light from above.

He’s right next to where I’m huddled behind a shelf.

I slide the backup file into my jacket and zip it up, keeping it covert and close to my body.

I don’t think he can see me , hidden in the shadows, but I have so few places to run.

I spot a small crevice between shelves. I can fit in there and get a better angle on him.

Maybe even find something to defend myself with.

Marcus and I stand in a silent, darkened stalemate for another few seconds before he lets out a frustrated huff and turns around. This is my chance.

I set my hand down as carefully as I can, only for a shard of glass from an old, broken jar to dig right into the palm of my hand as I begin to turn.

I try to mute my gasp of pain, but Marcus’s footsteps halt immediately and he comes closer again.

I could try to escape, but as Carter’s said—he isn’t expecting anyone to confront him.

The most shocking thing I can do is take a stand.

I scuttle on the floor to get some distance, but the second I have space, I’m up and we’re face-to-face.

Marcus and Carter are about the same size.

Over six feet tall with a thin but formidable build.

Except, where Carter’s used his years to turn himself into something tactile and strategic, Marcus feels like blunt force.

Marcus is dressed in the standard PIS suit, but with no hat covering his graying light brown hair. Inside his jacket, though, there’s a gun holster strapped to his side.

“That looks pretty painful,” he says, nodding down at my injured hand. The deep gash at the center of my palm burns when air sweeps into it. I don’t respond as he reaches over to the first aid kit on the shelf and opens it. Marcus pulls out a roll of bandages, holds them to me.

I take a wary step forward. The second the bandages are in my hand, Marcus reaches for his gun. The click of the bullet sliding into the barrel sends a chill up my spine.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he says, but I don’t buy any of it.

“I only will if you give me no other choice. The cops will be on their way any minute now. They’ll want to hear about how you and Carter broke into a government office.

They’ll want to hear about the treason you two are trying to commit. ”

“And while we’re at it, you can tell them all about the treason you actually committed.”

Marcus might not know we sneaked into the PIS archives. The one thing I have over him is that he doesn’t have all the pieces.

“I don’t think they’re going to buy your word over mine.”

“They will if I have proof.”

Marcus eyes the folder sticking out of my jacket. His expression is nervous, and he’s trying to hide it. “Ah. Why don’t you give whatever you have over to me?”

I pluck the small shard of glass out of my palm and drop it onto the floor.

“Not a chance.”

The bloodied piece clinks on the ground and lands in front of Marcus’s dress shoes. I wrap my hand, stemming the bleeding. It still hurts like hell, but if I need to, I can form a pretty decent fist now. I want to punch this asshole so badly.

“Where’s Carter?” I demand.

“He’s not coming.”

The only way Carter wouldn’t come for me is if something happened to him.

This was exactly why I didn’t want to split up.

I didn’t want to let him take that risk, because I didn’t know if he’d come back to me.

Now…if something’s happened to him, he’ll never know how much I love him.

I might never get to tell him. Tears well in my eyes, despite how hard I’m trying to keep a straight face and show no fear.

“What did you do to him?”

“You really think you are going to be the one to crack this case? You think you, of all people—a model—could convince the government I did something bad? That’s delusional.”

“Excuse you,” I say. “I’m not a model. I’m an influencer .”

He huffs a laugh. “How influential you are. Tell me how many people believed your UFO story.”

I grit my teeth. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I know that what happened to me was real.”

Marcus raises the gun to the center of my chest, but a shot rings out in the bunker. It shatters an empty jar and ricochets off a case of bullets along the back wall. Both Marcus and I jump.

Another bullet strikes a box of pancake mix beside Marcus.

“Lay a hand on her and I will shoot you.”

I look up as Carter emerges from the dusty darkness between the shelves, his gun drawn on Marcus and Marcus alone.

The first thing I notice is the blood staining his crisp white shirt as he holds his hand over a wound.

His movements might be unsteady and addled with pain, and his skin is losing color quickly, but his grip on the gun is steadfast—and his aim is spot-on.

“Carter,” I gasp. “Jesus, what happened to you?”

“You can’t be here,” Marcus mutters. It sounds like disbelief.

“Turns out,” Carter says, taking another weak step forward, “the resident idiot knows how to pick a lock. Should have checked my pockets. And you shouldn’t have left a gun behind, you stupid fuck.

If you aren’t going to make sure I’m dead, don’t let me sneak up on you so easily.

Now, step away from her or I will shoot you.

You and I both know I’m good with a gun. ”

I’m fighting every urge to rush to Carter and help him, but I know that’ll get us both killed.

“They’re never going to believe you,” Marcus says. “No matter what I do to you. This is my sector to run, and you two aren’t supposed to be here. I was protecting my own, like I always have.”

Marcus shifts his focus to Carter.

“You were protecting yourself . Just like you always do.” Carter’s grip on his gun shakes. I catch his eyes and pull out the corner of the file folder for him to see. Relief floods over him. “You don’t care who ends up being collateral damage. Even my dad knew it.”

“You would do the same thing. If you were pressed—if you had to make a choice. I was trying to protect PIS and all the people it protects. You don’t get to act like you’re better than me.

I mean, look at you,” Marcus sneers. He steps closer to Carter and tilts his chin up with the barrel of his gun.

“You dragged this nice young lady into your crusade, didn’t you?

You didn’t care what happened to her if it suited you. ”

“That’s not true,” Carter says, and at the same time I chime in with, “I actually bullied him into letting me help.”

Marcus looks between us and smirks. “What a match made in heaven, then.”

“And you don’t think I’m a nice young lady,” I add. “You were going to shoot me a few seconds ago.”