“Keep back!” Giovanni roared.

He reached out with his left hand and slammed the heavy inner steel door shut.

The metal bolts slid into place with a heavy, final thud.

We were sealed inside the lower bunker.

But we were trapped.

Dr. Sullivan finally slid the needle into the IV port on Luca’s arm.

Luca let out a weak, raspy cry, then went limp against the plastic mattress.

“The medication is in,” Dr. Sullivan said, his chest heaving as he breathed.

He wiped his sweating forehead with the sleeve of his white coat.

“Is he going to be okay?” I asked, my fingers brushing Luca’s damp hair.

“The fever should start to drop in an hour,” Dr. Sullivan said.

“If we have an hour,” I said.

A high-pitched screeching sound began on the other side of the steel door.

They were using a heavy drill.

Giovanni did not move from his spot near the wall.

He kept his gun trained on the center of the door.

“How did they find us?” Giovanni muttered, his voice dangerously quiet.

He turned his dark eyes toward Dr. Sullivan.