Eve of Destruction by Patrick Carman

searching for Connor and Alex.
    â€œWhere are you guys?” I yelled. “I can’t see you.”
    â€œHang on, bro! We’re checking something out.”
    Checking something out? What did he mean, checking something out? There weren’t very many things to check out, just the long tunnel, holes of death in the floor, sputtering lights, and . . .
    â€œConnor! Alex! Show yourselves! Where are you?!”
    I ran back to the map, searching for anything I’d missed, some cavernous tunnel that branched off the main line or a hidden room. But there was nothing.
    Connor and Alex were either down the short hall that led to the circle and the square behind it on the map. Or they’d done something really, really stupid.
    Hadn’t I told them not to open any doors on the way? I thought I had, but there was so much happening. Maybe I’d forgotten to do it. I looked at the radiation level dials and saw that they hadn’t moved.
    Two figures stepped out from the shadows just as I was about to reconnect with Kate and Marisa and tell them that I’d probably managed to unleash a major nuclear catastrophe in the underground missile silo.
    â€œYou guys scared me half to death! Please tell me you didn’t open that door.”
    Neither Connor nor Alex answered me as they kept coming closer. It was really dark in that last stretch leading to the monitor, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t hear me. I tried again.
    â€œIf you opened that door go back and shut it! Answer me!”
    â€œYou can stop yelling, Will. It’s not going to be a problem with the door. You worry too much.”
    They were close now, within ten feet, and the tunnel made the voice sound eerie and unfamiliar. Something wasn’t right. The next thing I remember was how close his face was, how he looked happy to see me, how he thanked me for letting him out of the room.
    It was Davis who stood there, the man who was once Rainsford, not Connor. And not Alex, either. It was Avery who stood next to Davis. Avery Varone.
    Connor and Alex had opened that door and let out something dangerous, all right. Had I told them not to open that door? Did I somehow confuse them so they thought they were supposed to open it? Really, it didn’t matter.
    Rainsford and Avery Varone were in the underground missile silo with us.
    And we’d just let them out into the open.



5:00 PM–5:30 PM
    Two hours.
    120 minutes.
    7,200 heart-pounding seconds.
    That’s how long it took me to accidentally let the vilest person on the planet out of a room that, obviously, Mrs. Goring had somehow managed to lock him inside of. It would have helped if she’d been straight up with me about what was in that room. Then again, she’d been pretty clear in her own twisted way:
    Your life depends on it. . . . You don’t want what’s trapped behind that door escaping into the hall.
    How she’d gotten Davis-who-was-Rainsford and Avery in there was kind of beside the point. They probably came back to check on things, she held Avery at gunpoint, she forced Rainsford to open the door for her, she made them climb down the ladder into the room, she locked the door—something along those lines made pretty good sense. I know I wouldn’t mess with Mrs. Goring if she were pointing a shotgun at Marisa. Chances are Rainsford would have been the same as me in that regard.
    What really mattered, what ate away at my soul while I stared at his perfectly chiseled face, was that I’d let him out. I’d let him out where he could get to Marisa, where he could get to everyone.
    I’d been able to hold it together for two hours as things unfolded in unexpected ways all around me, and standing there I took command of the situation in the only way I knew how: I turned Rainsford’s monitor off before he could infect me with his lies.
    For a brief moment the observation room was silent and I took stock of the