DEAD HORIZON — CHAPTER 23: LOCKDOWN
Maggie POV
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
The sound didn’t stop.
Red lights spun above the Space Exhibit. The mechanical voice came again: “SECURITY LOCKDOWN INITIATED. ALL EXITS SEALED.”
CLUNK.
Kevin screamed. He didn’t let go of Maggie’s sleeve.
“Hey,” Maggie said. She put her hand over his. “Hey. It’s okay. It’s just—”
“What’s happening?” Braid Girl said. Her voice was high. “Why did the doors—”
“I don’t know,” Maggie said.
Because she didn’t.
Glasses Boy adjusted his tape. “Lockdowns happen for lots of reasons,” he said. Fast. Like he was reading from a book. “Gas leaks. Active threats. Civil unrest. Statistically, most—”
“Stop,” Maggie said. Not mean. Just tired.
Mr. Carson blew his whistle. It cut through the beeping. He stepped into the middle of the Space Exhibit, clipboard raised.
“Everyone!” he shouted. “Listen to me. We are moving to the Great Hall. Right now. Single file. Stay together. No running.”
His voice was loud. Teacher loud. But it cracked on the last word. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Move. Now.”
People started moving.
Ms. Lee nodded, too fast. “Yes. Yes, exactly. Students, please. It’s just a precaution. We’re going to the Great Hall where it’s safe. Phones away. Stay with your groups.” Her voice shook. She tried to smile. It didn’t work.
Maggie looked at Kevin. His face was wet. “C’mon,” she said. “Team Lost sticks together.”
She stepped in front of him without thinking. “Stay behind me.” Her hands were shaking. She shoved them in her pockets so he wouldn’t see.
2:17 PM
They moved them fast.
Museum staff in khaki vests herded everyone away from the windows. Away from the gates. Into the Great Hall — the big room with the T-Rex skeleton. The one with no windows.
Two hundred people. Maybe more. Seniors. Sixth graders. Tourists. A mom holding a toddler. A guy in a business suit who kept checking his watch, then the doors, then his watch.
Mr. Carson took the center of the room. “Everyone seated on the floor. Now. Against the walls. Conserve space. No one leaves this hall without my permission. Is that understood?”
It was. For now.
Jenna, the tour guide, tried to smile. “Okay, everyone! Let’s, uh, let’s stay calm. Deep breaths. Conserve energy!”
Nobody was calm.
A staff guy with a radio pushed through the crowd. “Is everyone accounted for? We need a headcount—”
“Why are the doors locked?” someone yelled.
“Is it a shooter?” someone else yelled.
“My wife’s outside!”
The staff guy held up his hands. His voice wasn’t steady. “Please. Please. We are following emergency protocol. LAPD advised us to shelter in place due to an unconfirmed biological incident downtown. That is all the information we have.”
Not civil disturbance. Not riot.
Biological incident.
The words hit the room.
Someone started crying. Someone else stood up. “Biological? Like what, a gas leak?”
“I don’t know,” the staff guy said. “They didn’t—”
“Some phones have signal. Others don’t,” a senior said, loud. “No pattern. My sister’s is dead. Mine works. That’s not normal.”
Maggie looked at hers.
Maggie [2:19 PM]: Arthur answer me
Delivered.
No reply.
2:31 PM
The first calls started.
A girl three rows over screamed into her phone. “Mom? Mom, they locked us in! I don’t— I don’t know why!”
Then another. Then ten more. Then twenty.
Kevin looked up at Maggie. “Can I call my mom?”
“Yeah,” Maggie said. “Yeah, bud. Try.”
He did. It rang. And rang. Then: The number you have dialed is not available.
He tried again. Same thing.
Maggie tried Arthur.
Maggie [2:33 PM]: Something weird is happening.
Delivered.
No reply.
She opened the news.
Lynwood Traffic Alert: I-5 North closed. Avoid the area.
Breaking: LAPD responding to multiple violent incidents downtown. CDC en route.
Video: Man attacks pedestrian on 6th Street. Bystanders report erratic behavior, biting.
She clicked the video. It buffered. Then: Playback error.
Ms. Lee was talking to Mr. Carson. Whispering. Mr. Carson shook his head. He still had his clipboard. He tapped it against his leg. Once. Twice. His hand was shaking. “We keep them together,” he said. Loud enough for the front rows. “No one panics. We wait for instruction.” His voice went up at the end. Like a question.
2:47 PM
They turned the TVs on.
The Great Hall had two big screens. Usually they played Journey Through the Cosmos on loop.
Now: News.
“—reports of violence across multiple districts—”
“—hospitals are asking non-critical patients to stay home—”
“—CDC has issued a Level 3 biological alert—”
The feed cut. Blue screen. Then: EMERGENCY ALERT SYSTEM.
“—shelter in place—”
“—avoid large crowds—”
“—do not approach individuals exhibiting erratic, aggressive behavior—”
“—symptoms include disorientation, aggression, and—”
The feed cut again.
Someone stood up. “This is fake!” he yelled. “This is some drill! My dad works for the city!”
A woman was crying into her hands. A group of seniors started for the doors. A security guard blocked them. “Sit down!” he shouted. “Now!”
Glasses Boy wasn’t talking. He was staring at the TV, mouth open.
“Why are they biting people?” Braid Girl said. Quiet.
Nobody answered.
Maggie checked her phone.
Maggie [2:51 PM]: Where are you?
Delivered.
No reply.
Kevin was sitting now. He’d stopped crying. Now he was just quiet. That was worse.
“You okay?” Maggie asked.
“I want to go home,” he said.
“Yeah,” Maggie said. “Me too.”
She didn’t say we will. She wasn’t an adult. She was seventeen and her phone had 40% battery and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
3:12 PM
Parents started getting through. Some. Not all. No pattern.
“My dad says there’s cops everywhere,” a junior said. “He’s trying to get here. Says people are… are attacking each other.”
“My mom says stay inside,” said another. “She says it’s not safe out there. Says people are sick. Not like flu sick. Like—” He stopped.
A girl’s phone rang. She answered. “Dad? Dad, I’m—” She listened. Her face went white. “What do you mean you can’t—”
The call dropped.
“Dad?” she said. “Dad?!” She stood up. “Let me out! Let me out!”
Mr. Carson stepped toward her. “Young lady, sit down. The lines are—” He stopped. Swallowed. “The lines are congested. I’m sure your father will call back. Panicking helps no one.”
His voice was steady. But his hand was shaking. He hid it behind the clipboard.
Ms. Lee looked terrified. She wasn’t hiding it anymore. She was staring at the doors.
Maggie pulled Kevin closer. Braid Girl sat on her other side. Glasses Boy was still staring at the TV. The news was looping the same three sentences.
Do not approach individuals exhibiting erratic, aggressive behavior.
Maggie tried Arthur again.
Arthur always answered.
Even when he was gaming.
Even when he was asleep.
Even when he was annoyed at her.
He always answered.
Maggie [3:18 PM]: Please answer.
Sending…
Sending…
FAILED TO SEND
She stared at it.
Her throat hurt. Her eyes burned. Her hands were shaking so bad she almost dropped the phone.
She hit resend.
FAILED TO SEND
3:40 PM
The security guard collapsed.
He was by the Great Hall entrance. Older guy. Buzz cut. He’d been talking into his radio for twenty minutes. Sweating. Pale.
Then he just… dropped.
Hit the floor hard. His radio skittered away.
“Medic!” someone yelled. “We need a medic!”
Jenna ran over. “Sir? Sir, can you hear me?”
Mr. Carson was there in three steps. “Everyone back!” he barked. “Give him space! Now!” The room obeyed. “You,” he pointed at a senior. “You took CPR last year. Check him.”
His voice wasn’t teacher loud. It was scared loud.
The senior dropped next to the guard. “He’s breathing. I think. Pulse is… I don’t know. It’s weak.” He looked up. “His skin’s… cold. And his eyes…”
“Heart attack,” Mr. Carson said. He hesitated. “Heart attack… maybe.” He looked at Ms. Lee. She didn’t nod. She was frozen.
Maggie stood up. Her legs almost didn’t work. “Kevin,” she said. “Braid Girl. Glasses Boy. Up. Now.”
“Why?” Braid Girl said.
“Because,” Maggie said.
She didn’t have a reason. She just knew. She was guessing. She was terrified.
3:46 PM
The radio on the floor crackled.
The guard wasn’t holding it. Nobody was.
“—all museum staff,” the radio said. Static. “—west entrance breach. Repeat, west entrance breach. DO NOT LET ANYONE INSIDE. I REPEAT, DO NOT—”
BOOM.
From the west wing.
Distant. But loud.
Mr. Carson’s head snapped toward the sound. “Nobody move,” he said. Quieter now. “Everyone stays right where they are.” His clipboard fell. He didn’t pick it up.
Then: pounding.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
On metal.
Everyone in the Great Hall went quiet.
The pounding got louder.
“Open up!” a voice screamed from the other side of the door. “Please! Open the door! They’re coming! They’re—”
The radio crackled again. “—DO NOT OPEN THE DOORS—”
The pounding stopped.
For one second.
Then it started again.
But different.
Not fists.
Wet.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Like something heavy hitting the metal. Over and over.
Maggie’s breathing went wrong. Her chest was too tight. She couldn’t get air.
And then:
A scream echoed through the west wing.
Long.
Wet.
Wrong.
