Max stood in the midst of the pandemonium of the underground laboratory, his thoughts reeling to absorb all that he had just learned. His father's words on the video continued to ring in his ears. He was in a daze when a deafening alarm suddenly broke the stillness. A blinding red light filled the room, whirling in desperate circles.

  Max stood frozen, his heart pounding against his chest. "What in the world is going on?" he grumbled, facing the direction of the sound. The noise was blasting, a piercing alert that something or someone had awakened the lab's security system.

  As the alarm wailed, a distant rumble from above arrested his notice. Max raced to a small, dusty window high up on the wall. His gut fell away. Through the window, headlights cut through the shadows as black SUVs skidded to a stop. Men in tactical and suit attire flooded out, their movements precise and synchronized.

  Max's breathing caught. "They found me," he breathed, alarm edging into his voice. His father's admonition echoed in his mind: "Trust no one. They will stop at nothing to get it."

  Max spun around, scanning the lab. His gaze landed on the containment device housing the glowing meteorite fragment. Its faint pulse seemed almost alive, as if aware of the imminent danger. Without hesitation, he grabbed his bag and stuffed the journal inside before carefully securing the fragment.

  "I won't let them get this," he muttered, struggling to keep his trembling hands still. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, but he made himself concentrate. He zipped the bag closed and slung it over his shoulder.

  Another noise—this one closer. Stomping boots ringing down the entrance tunnel. They were here.

  "Think, Max. Think!" he growled to himself, scanning the room with his eyes. His father's words from the video echoed in his head once more: "Be careful. I trust you to guard it."

  Max took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. "Okay, Dad," he whispered, holding the bag strap tightly in his hand. "Let me see if I can make you proud."

  He saw the secret door he had entered through. Max ran toward it, his sneakers squeaking on the waxed floor. He hesitated for a second, looking back at the lab—at all the years of work his father had invested in this hidden room. "I'm sorry, Dad," he whispered, his voice full of remorse. "I don't have time to save it all."

  Taking one final glance, Max closed the hidden door behind him, turning the lock to secure it. The lock clicked, closing the entrance. He leaned against the door, his ear pressed to it, as he heard the muted voices of the agents moving into the lab.

  The footsteps sounded louder. Max's heart was going to burst. He retreated from the door and began down the dark, narrow passage that led to the surface. His breathing was shallow, each step sounding ominously in the cramped space.

  "Just a few more steps," he whispered, holding the bag close to his chest as if it were the sole thing keeping him grounded in sanity. Reaching the exit ladder, he turned to look over his shoulder. The dim glow of the red alarm lights scarcely lit the route he'd traveled.

  Somewhere inside the tunnel, a loud, commanding voice yelled out orders. "Search every inch of this place! Don't let him get away!"

  Max swallowed hard, holding the ladder hard. "They're too close." His legs quivered as he started climbing, every rung heavier than the previous one.

  When he finally hit the top, he carefully opened the trapdoor. The chill of the night air slapped him in the face, but he did not mind. For a moment, he gave himself one deep breath.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Then, from afar, the unmistakable flash of a flashlight cut across the ground. A yell came after. "There he is!"

  Max didn't hesitate. He ran for his car, adrenaline pumping in his legs. "I'm not losing this," he grumbled, holding the bag tightly. "Not now. Not ever."

  As he jumped into the driver's seat and closed the door, the roar of engines starting behind him gave him shivers. Max didn't even hesitate before starting the car and racing off into the night, the meteorite piece showing a dim light in the seat next to him.

  Escape

  The dim tunnel was chilly and damp, its sides closing in on Max as he went as fast and stealthily as he could. The atmosphere was thick, and every footstep sounded faintly no matter how hard he tried not to make any noise. His heart was racing in his chest, not only from physical effort but from sheer fear. He gripped the bag holding the meteorite shard tightly against himself, as if closer proximity would serve to better protect it.

  "Come on, think, Max," he told himself quietly, looking back over his shoulder. The red flash of the lab's emergency lights created sickly shadows on the walls behind him. His breathing was jerky, but he struggled to calm it, fighting to concentrate on recalling the way out. The route was not linear—twists and turns and blind alleys all blended together in his mind.

  Abruptly, the sound of muffled footsteps resonated behind him.

  "Shoot! They've arrived," he cursed beneath his breath, moving faster. His heart racing, his pulse surging, as the footsteps increased in volume, becoming more purposeful. They weren't merely looking for something—someone was pursuing him.

  Max pushed himself against the icy wall at a tunnel fork, his ears straining to pick up the sound. The voices came to him, crisp and authoritative, though their words were mangled by the acoustics of the tunnel.

  "Fan out! He's close," one voice snapped, its tone clipped and professional.

  Max gritted his jaw, fighting to remain calm. "You can do this. Keep moving," he whispered, propelling himself off the wall and opting for the left path without hesitation.

  The pitch of the tunnel dipped ever so slightly upward, and with it came the hint of a breeze from beyond the tunnel. Relief washed through him—it was in the right direction. But the relief was to be short-lived. The footfalls were closer, followed by the unmistakable whir of a handheld scanner.

  "They're following me," Max understood, fear pounding in his chest. He moved on, no longer caring about secrecy. The tunnel curved hard to the left, and when he turned the corner, he saw dim moonlight coming through a metal grille at the end of the tunnel.

  "Getting close," he breathed, his words strained with desperation.

  As he reached the grate, Max shoved against it with all his strength, but it didn't budge. Panic clawed at him as he tried again, bracing his feet against the damp ground for leverage.

  "Move! Come on, move!" he growled through gritted teeth.

  The sound of boots on the tunnel floor was deafening now, and he could hear the agents' voices more clearly.

  "He's ahead! I've got a heat signature!" one of them called out.

  Max's adrenaline kicked in. With one last, frantic push, the grate swung open, crashing as it hit the ground outside. He didn't stop to cheer. Crawling out into the night air, he took a deep breath, the cool night air stinging in his lungs after the stagnant tunnel.

  He did not slow. Max ran toward his car, parked wildly beneath the shade of an old structure. His thighs seared, but he could not slow. The agents' voices behind him receded into the distance as they moved down the tunnel.

  By the time he approached the car, his fingers stuttered over the keys. "Come on, come on," he growled, his trembling fingers a mixture of fatigue and nerves. The bag containing the fragment bounced at his side, its heaviness a reminder of what was hanging in the balance.

  At last, the car door opened, and he flung himself in, slamming the door behind him. He jammed the key into the ignition, the engine roaring to life.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement—agents coming out of the tunnel entrance, their flashlights cutting through the blackness.

  "There he is!" one of them yelled.

  Max didn't hesitate. He stomped down on the accelerator, the tires squealing as the car ripped away from the scene. His knuckles grew white as he clutched the steering wheel, his heart pounding in his chest.

  "I'm not letting them have it," he told himself, his eyes flicking over to the bag on the passenger seat. "Not after all you did to keep it safe, Dad."

  As the agents' numbers faded into the rearview, Max let out a shaky breath. He was safe for the moment. But he knew this was only the start.