F-A-S-T
The men took off running as fast as they could, with their carts still in front of them.
“Why are they–?” This time it was Borger. He sat, completely dumbfounded, watching them race forward through the hallway. He raised his hands and shouted at his monitor. “Leave the friggin’ carts!”
***
Both women had now escaped Li Na’s room but looking up and down the hall in both directions, they were surprised to find it empty. Neely rushed to a door on the other side and tried the handle. Locked.
She ran to another. Also locked. Then frantically, a third. They were all locked!
Hurriedly, she motioned to Li Na. “Come on!” She darted down the hall before glancing back and realizing that Li Na hadn’t moved. “LI NA, COME ON!”
As if sensing something else, the teenager shook her head. She remained motionless for a moment and turned, breathing in deeply through her nose.
“Not that way,” she said, instead pointing behind her. “This way.”
***
Rothman had just withdrawn a syringe from Seever’s arm when he heard the door’s deadbolt engage behind him. Curiously, he twisted his head and found no one there. He then raised an eyebrow and glanced at Seever.
“What was that?” Seever eyed the door before reaching down and lifting the sheet off himself. Sliding his muscular legs over the edge of the bed, he stood up. The floor’s surface was cool under his bare feet.
Still holding the needle, Rothman watched his subject cross the room and wrap his hand around the door handle. It turned, but the door didn’t budge.
He looked back around suspiciously. “What’s going on?”
Rothman simply shrugged.
Seever lowered his gaze. “What the hell are you doing?”
“What are you talking about?”
Seever’s words began to slow, in an accusatory tone. “I’m not stupid. You’re locking me in.”
“No.”
The soldier started to approach Rothman with a look of distrust in his eyes. “You and that bitch are in on something.”
Rothman lowered the syringe to his side and took a small step backward. “No. No, we’re not.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
Rothman’s expression changed from confusion to unease. “I’m not lying to you. I don’t know what’s going on.” He moved across the room to the giant one-way window and pounded with his fist. “Hey! Hey!”
There was no answer.
Seever continued following him. “Tell me,” he flared. “Or so help me…”
“Wait! Listen to me! I’m telling you, nothing is going on. The door got locked by accident.” Rothman raised his voice as the soldier crept closer. “This is not what you think! I’m telling you, it’s an accident!” He backed away and moved toward the door, where he began waving at the camera. “Hey! Hey! Unlock the door! UNLOCK THE DOOR!”
***
Janice Talbot stumbled into the hallway and spotted both women near the end, just before they disappeared around a corner.
They were trying to escape!
She looked up, wondering why the alarm had gone silent, and staggered back to the red box on the wall. She yanked the lever back up and then down again, hard. Nothing happened. She tried again.
The alarm did not reactivate.
Talbot immediately ran to the closest door, her lab, and punched in her code. The door did not unlock. She repeated the numbers. Still nothing.
Frustrated, she raised her fists and began pounding. “Somebody open up!” she screamed. “They’re escaping!”
***
Rothman had now become somewhat frantic. Both hands were raised helplessly. “Listen to me. Listen to me!”
Seever was well within reach but suddenly stopped when they heard the sound of someone yelling in the hallway.
A breathless Rothman latched on to the opportunity. “Something’s wrong. I told you. There’s something going on out there!”
Seever closed in on the door to listen, but not before raising an arm and pushing Rothman out of his way. Whoever was out there was coming closer, now pounding loudly on the nearby doors. Then the yelling disappeared.
“Something’s wrong,” Rothman repeated.
“Shut up,” hissed Seever. He leaned in and placed his ear against the surface. He then suddenly jerked it back when the pounding returned, on the door in front of him.
“Are you in there?!” screamed Talbot’s voice.
“Yes! What’s going on?!”
“I don’t know,” she replied, muffled through the door. “Nothing’s working, and the women are escaping!”
“Unlock the door!” Seever yelled back.
He could hear her fingers hitting the lock on the other side. “It won’t work!” she cried. “They’re all frozen!”
Seever fumed, looking around the room. His eyes fell onto Rothman. “Try your code.”
The doctor rushed forward and complied. There was no change.
Seever pushed him back again and examined the door’s handle, followed by the keypad, and finally the metal door itself along with its frame. He motioned at Rothman to back away before angrily raising both arms in front of his chest, flexing them, and balling his hands tightly into fists. He then looked down and slowly wrapped both hands firmly around the handle.
Talbot jumped back when she heard a sudden bang from the other side and saw the entire door frame shift. A few seconds later, it happened again. The noise sounded louder and this time, the frame split along the top edge.
Then again. With a deafening pitch, a giant crack erupted, causing the metal frame to fracture into two sections. The next jolt tore the door completely away as the frame twisted and bowed inward, tearing huge chunks of the wall away with it.
Through the gaping hole, she could see Seever’s face.
133
Clay and Caesare could hear footsteps behind them.…and distant yelling in front of them.
Borger’s overhead light was still flashing, but someone was approaching from the intersecting hallway behind them.
Both men slowed to a stop and hesitated, listening. The steps were fast. Whoever it was, they were running. And closing quickly.
Not more than thirty feet ahead, past the flashing lights, was a right turn in the hall. If they could make it there first, they’d have cover. If not, they might be shot in the back trying.
Unfortunately, their decision was made for them. From beyond the turn ahead, they could hear more footsteps approaching. And more shouting.
Both men were stuck.
“Not a good place to be,” Caesare breathed, leaning forward and quickly withdrawing the rifle from the bulging bag in front of him.
Clay angled both carts together for cover and looked from behind while Caesare knelt onto one knee between them.
“You take whatever’s coming around that corner,” he said, lowering the gun. “I’ll take these.”
Clay turned toward the end of the hall, before taking a deep breath. It was an easy decision, for both of them.
Caesare was a better shot.
134
“More guards coming from the other floors,” Borger shouted. “Lock the stairwells!”
M0ngol was already ahead of him. The heavier locks were engaged in all sixth-floor stairwells even before Borger finished his sentence.
He was now jumping from video feed to video feed. Angle to angle. Searching for a way out. The service elevator was moving, but unfortunately that meant more guards were likely coming down.
From what he could see, one stairwell still appeared empty. But it was at the far end of the floor. He went back to the hallways, trying to find an open path to get there. The bigger problem was trying to communicate it.
From the floor plan, they could see overhead speakers in the ceiling every fifty feet or so. But they all appeared to be wired together, which meant any sound or messages would be heard by everyone.
Borger stopped on another vide
o showing three men advancing on Clay and Caesare’s position. All appeared armed. He switched back to the stairwell to make sure it was still empty…and the video suddenly froze.
Borger’s eyes widened as he switched to another camera. It was also frozen. Then another. To his right, M0ngol abruptly stopped typing and peered at his screen. He tried typing again and paused, slowly lifting his hands. The system was unresponsive. He tried clicking other windows on his screen but still got nothing.
He then looked at Borger uneasily. “I think we lost connection.”
Borger’s face immediately became pale. “Oh…God.”
***
It was the only thing Millican’s team could do to stop it. They cut everything. Not just to the computers and the network, but the power itself. Everything.
Plunging the entire Dugway installation into virtual darkness.
135
Clay was in mid-stride, sprinting to reach the turn, when the lights went out.
He made it to within several feet of the turn when the gunfire erupted and immediately threw himself to the floor, sliding hard over the cold linoleum. He managed to twist and get one hand out just before his boots slammed forcefully against the far wall. Bullets zipped overhead, pelting the walls around him and sending Clay scrambling around the corner, out of the line of fire.
He heard Caesare returning fire and stood up in the darkness, probing forward along the wall, looking for an exit. Without warning, he was instantly knocked backward by the impact of someone else colliding with him at full speed.
He hit the floor, his attacker stumbling and falling directly on top of him, just as surprised and screaming over the gunshot blasts.
He struggled to grab the person’s flailing limbs in an effort to push them off, when the halls began to brighten again. A dim red hue now emanated from the building’s emergency lighting.
Above Clay and silhouetted by the red lights, the figure of a woman, almost in a panic, was attempting to extricate herself from him. Behind her, a second silhouette could be seen clawing to try to help the woman off.
More shots erupted, with several hitting the walls just a few feet overhead, dusting them with fragments of drywall and paint. Clay finally found one of the woman’s arms and twisted, forcing her body over the top of him and directly into the side wall.
It was then, through the gunfire and the yelling, that Clay heard something completely unexpected. The sound of his own name.
John Clay was a name Li Na would never forget. Neither his name nor his voice, even his smell. Which is exactly what she had sensed when she and Neely escaped from the room at the other end of the long zig-zagging hallway. It was not until they approached the corner, rushing with their hands along the walls that she realized how close Clay was.
Now, as Li Na clamored weakly to get Neely off and away from the shooting, she tried in desperation to tell her friend who it was on the floor. Desperation was quickly overwhelmed by the emotional elation that John Clay had come for her.
“It is him!” she screamed again at Neely. “It is John Clay!”
Beneath her, Clay froze for a moment before realizing who he was looking at. First, the thin frame of Li Na standing over them, and then Neely to his side, hair strewn over her face as her flailing began to slow.
He could not see her eyes but could hear the trepidation in Neely’s voice. “J-john?!”
His feelings were a mix of fear and relief. “Get back!” he yelled, scrambling to his feet and pushing them into a retreat. “Out of the way!”
Neither woman needed convincing. The bursts of gunfire abruptly disappeared as they stumbled back, no more shots or debris exploding from the walls. Nothing. Only the ringing left in their ears.
“What the–”
“Shhh!” Clay silenced her. “Stay down. And stay quiet!” He pushed Li Na to the floor, where his hands quickly searched both women. “Are either of you hurt?”
“No. No, we’re fine! How in the world–” Neely’s voice suddenly gasped in a whisper. “My God, are you with Steve?”
“Yes,” he offered brusquely.
“You found them!”
All three turned to see Caesare standing and peering down at them, his rifle’s muzzle raised toward the ceiling. “How’d you do that?”
Neely immediately leaped to her feet and threw herself into Caesare’s free arm. The embrace was tight and emotional for only an instant before Neely jumped back. His body was soaked. “You’re bleeding!”
“It’s not blood. It’s water.”
She stared at his darkened face, confused. “Water?”
“Slows down bullets.” He looked at Clay. “How in the hell did you find them?”
“I didn’t.”
Neely shook her head, still reeling. “How did you guys get in here?”
“A wing and a prayer,” Caesare replied. He watched Clay pull Li Na up from the floor before glancing back around the corner. “But getting out…may be a problem.”
Clay moved forward but was stopped by Li Na’s hand, gripping him tightly. He turned and found her staring nervously at him with glistening eyes, and trembling.
His lips spread into a handsome grin and he wrapped his arms around her. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “We’re here. But we have to move fast.”
The girl took several seconds to let go, fumbling for the right words. “You…came for me.”
“Of course, I did,” he replied. He then looked at Neely. “You okay? We hit pretty hard.”
“I’m fine.”
“Good. We’re here, which is the good news. The bad news is that we don’t exactly have an exit plan. Except the elevator, which is now probably our worst choice.”
“And the power’s out, so Borger’s probably cut off,” Caesare added.
“Borger is here too?”
“In a manner of speaking. Or at least he was.”
***
The Anvil stared down at the three men on the floor, his face expressionless under the red glow overhead. He studied each lifeless figure, twisted and motionless.
Borssen quickly approached, stopping behind his massive frame as she spotted the bodies. “What’s happening?”
“Rescue attempt.”
She stared in disbelief. “That’s impossible.”
The Anvil shrugged and inched forward until he came close enough to peer around the corner ahead of him, exposing only a slice of his face and left ear.
The hallway was mostly empty, the only exception being what appeared to be two carts at the far end. One upright and the other on its side.
“What do you see?”
Anvil shook his head. “Janitors’ carts.” He squinted and spotted movement beyond them, just enough of something to catch his eye. A figure stepped cautiously out from the far corner and pressed themselves flat against the wall.
It was a large figure. A man. Dressed in something Anvil couldn’t recognize. But the movement was careful. And smooth.
The dark figure promptly stopped, spotting the exposed portion of Anvil’s face. He could then be seen slowly lowering himself and raising his gun at the same time.
Anvil couldn’t be sure, but it looked like the man was motioning with his right hand to someone behind him.
At the opposite end of the long hall, Caesare’s signal was crystal clear. Back up!
Clay and the women retreated farther around the corner, followed almost immediately by Caesare.
“We have company.”
“How many?” Clay asked.
Caesare slid one eye past the edge. “Not sure. But someone’s peeking out at us from down there.”
Something in the man’s movement looked familiar to Anvil. Something about his size and build, and the way he carried himself. Muscular but smooth. His jet-black hair.
He’d seen the man before. Recently.
Anvil’s powerful, placid jaw broke into a wry grin that Borssen could not see. “I should have guessed.”
“Guessed what?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, the giant man carefully stepped out and took two steps into the middle of the hall. With that, he raised his arms and held up the semi-automatic gun in his right hand.
“Seriously…” Caesare let his voice trail off before shaking his head. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“What?”
Caesare tilted his head back toward Clay. “It’s him. The one from Trinidad. The one who took them.”
“You sure?”
He nodded. “With his description? Yeah.”
“Wonderful.”
“That’s not all. I’m down to just a few rounds. But this guy looks like he could take all three. And then some.”
“What’s he doing?”
“He’s standing in the middle of the hall. And…he just dropped his gun. Deliberately.”
“What?”
“Yep. Dropped it.” Caesare twisted all the way around to face Clay. “He’s calling us out.”
“He can’t possibly know who we are.”
Caesare turned and peered back down the hall. “I have a feeling he does.”
“How many are with him?”
“I only see him.”
Neely looked at Caesare, then Clay. “The one that took us is big. Really big.”
Caesare nodded. “Then that’s him.”
“And strong,” Neely added.
“Yeah.” Caesare glanced over his shoulder at her and grinned. “But is he Italian?”
“I’m not joking!”
“I know.” Caesare handed his rifle to Clay. “But he also happens to be standing between us and the way out.”
“Then shoot him!”
“We will if we have to. But that means using what’s left of our ammo. I was hoping the guard we took this from would have more magazines.” He looked at Clay. “If this guy wants some mano a mano, I’ll give it to him.”
Mosaic (Breakthrough Book 5) Page 39