by Heskett, Jim
Also, as a precaution, Quinn had put Ember’s unconscious body underneath a tarp, off to the side of the van. He had left the back of the van open, and he hustled to take items from the baseball diamond over to the van.
His heart thumped, his belly jiggled and he cursed how badly he’d let himself get out of shape over the last couple years. At times like this, he needed energy. But, Quinn couldn’t remember if he’d eaten anything today. He often didn’t trust processed food, anyway. Or anything else from the grocery store
Fortunately, the tent was mostly empty inside. Alpha was safely back at home, chained up in the basement. She hadn’t needed to make the trip at all. That had been a last-minute change to the plan, but it had worked out brilliantly. He only needed to make Ember think Alpha was in the tent.
Quinn knew the draw of rescuing another woman had been too strong for her. It almost made Gamma’s death and Beta’s disappearance worthwhile. Beta had been a hard loss to swallow. But, so far, at least, it didn’t seem as if she had told the authorities anything useful. Beta didn’t know his full name, or where he lived. She had never moved from one place to the next without proper cloaking.
While it hurt to not have Beta in his stable of women any longer, she couldn’t do much damage to him. Physically, at least. Her absence broke his heart, but Quinn didn’t have the room in his life to rut around in melancholy at this moment.
He had now moved everything except for the tarp. He knelt next to it, sensing the form of Ember’s body beneath, but not daring to lift the edge to spy her. Steam plumed out from Quinn’s mouth. His heart raced not only from the exertion, but also all the possibilities of what he could do with her once he got her situated.
“I won, you arrogant bitch,” he muttered. “I told you I would. You are going to love the basement. It’ll be a short-lived visit, but we can’t do much about that. You are exactly what I need to restart my collection.”
He tucked the tarp underneath her so he could pick her up, then he heard something in the grass behind him—feet stomping on the ground, rushing, getting closer. From out of nowhere, he felt a form appear over his left shoulder.
Quinn spun around to see a fist flying at his face. It smashed into his nose before he had a chance to dodge. He felt knuckles compressing his nose and mouth. Blood forming at his lips. His head snapped back from the ferocity of the blow.
Quinn thrust his hands forward to push back the figure. Now he could finally get a good look at the person hovering above him. Young, white, pretty. Someone who had grown up with a youth defined by privilege. Quinn could spot his own kind in an instant.
“You must be Gabe,” Quinn said, feeling blood slick his teeth and wet his lips.
“Where is she?” Gabe said, teeth gritted, hands balled. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, frantic. This kid was on the verge of a meltdown. Maybe he was supposed to function as Ember’s secret weapon, but he was late arriving?
Instead of answering the question, Quinn pushed himself up to his feet. The kid hadn’t yet noticed the tarp, and maybe Quinn could keep it that way.
Gabe swung, and his fist sailed in a wide arc. Not as fast or as accurate without the element of surprise on his side. Quinn ducked and landed a punch at Gabe’s midsection, which was like punching a wall. The kid had solid abs.
Quinn’s head exploded in pain as Gabe landed another punch to the right side of his temple. Panic throttled him. His opponent had a definite physical advantage.
The next blow came from the other hand, and Quinn barely managed to get an arm up to block Gabe’s fist with his forearm. Gabe was younger, stronger, in better shape.
But Quinn had a stun gun. He whipped his hand to his back pocket and felt a splash of relief when he found it there, sticking out. He snatched the handle, aimed, and smashed his finger against the trigger. It blasted into the night air. The barbs launched into Gabe’s chest. Wires bridged Gabe to the stun gun, sending thousands of volts into the younger man.
Gabe jiggled for a second, then he took a step back, heaved a breath, and sank to the ground as he grunted in pain. The Taser coils dangled to the ground. Sitting upright, eyes closed.
With a second thud, he toppled. Now prone. He stopped shaking, but he was out cold, his body as stiff as a stone.
Quinn panted, hoarse breaths wheezing from his lips. He stared down at the figure on the ground. Quinn had never taken a man into one of his basements before.
But then, he heard a tinkling sound, and he looked up to see a dog on the end of a leash at the far end of the park. A guy was walking the dog in his direction, the dog’s collar clinking with each excited step.
No time.
Quinn leaned down and picked up Ember’s form, wrapped in the tarp. He growled with each labored step as he deposited her in the back of the van and tossed one last look at Gabe on the ground. A pity Gabe would have to stay, but Quinn didn’t have a choice.
He had to get home and make everything ready.
Chapter Thirty-Six
EMBER
Day Seven
The assassin woke when she moved, and the sound of the chain startled her. Her eyes fluttered for several seconds, simulating a strobe light effect. The room was dim and dank and smelled of old plumbing. Lots of moisture in the air.
She focused her eyes and could barely see through the darkness. Concrete floor, a set of stairs leading up. Basement, no doubt. The room appeared to be about thirty by thirty, with shelves on one end, with blacked-out ground-level windows above them. Another end contained a pile of broken furniture, a mountain of chair legs and torn-open pillows and other detritus. The final side of the room was too dark to see from here. Ember kept blinking, but she couldn’t quite focus yet.
She felt an itch on her leg, and it took her a second to realize it was where she had been grazed by a bullet from two weeks ago when trying to catch the sniper at his safe house. Mostly healed now, but it did itch from time to time.
There were handcuffs on her hands and ankles, both attached to chains hooked around a steel beam with fading and chipped red paint. She had about twelve inches of reach from the handcuff chains, and in her sitting position, two feet of give from the ankle chains.
After a few more blinks, Ember could now see more of the room around her. The basement appeared to be half-finished, in the midpoint of a construction cycle. One of the walls had exposed wooden framing. Dusty exercise equipment and a pegboard with tools occupied the area of the room she couldn’t see before.
During their first conversation six days ago, Quinn had promised he would hang her from the ceiling like a cut of meat. She didn’t see any evidence here he intended to do so.
Ember heard someone else and she squinted into the darkness to locate the voice. Fifteen feet across the room, near the exercise equipment, a blond woman stirred. She was also handcuffed, but only her hands. The young woman was sitting against a concrete wall, her legs out in front of her. A piece of duct tape was attached to the side of her face, a flap hanging from her left cheek. Likely, it had been over her mouth, but it had fallen away. The woman was pretty, with blue eyes and good bone structure, but her hair looked ragged, and she had a few dark smudges across her face and forehead.
“Hey,” Ember said, loud-whispering to get the woman’s attention.
Ember could see those blue eyes flicking around through the darkness, but the woman didn’t respond.
Ember cleared her throat to raise her voice. “Is he here?”
After a pause, the woman shook her head. “He goes out sometimes. But he always comes back.”
Ember took a deep breath, and it made her head swoon. Whatever drug he'd given her was still rushing around in her system. The room shifted a little like an aftershock whenever she turned her head. It reminded her of the one time she’d taken mushrooms in college.
“I don’t guess you know a way out of here?” Ember asked.
“There isn’t one. Trust me. We can’t beat him. There’s no point in trying.”
&nbs
p; Ember refused to believe that, of course. But it didn't look good. Her tired eyes inspected the handcuffs and chains. The restraints looked solid, looped around the pole that went from floor to ceiling. The handcuffs were simple, with a small hole in the top for a key. Any key would do, or any small object at all would work if she could force it into the hole and wiggle it around to catch the lock mechanism. These kinds of handcuffs didn't have unique keys.
But, the problem was, Ember had nothing around her to use to open the lock. Despite the random bits of lumber and construction tools littering the room, the area directly around Ember had been swept clear.
“How long does he usually go out for?” Ember asked.
“Dunno. Sometimes a few hours, sometimes minutes. Depends on where he went.”
Ember tugged on the chain, the handcuffs biting into her wrists. There had to be something. Maybe if she pulled hard enough, she could wrench this steel beam free. But then, if it were load-bearing, she might bring the whole house down on them.
As her eyes crawled over her surroundings, Ember saw their salvation on the floor, sitting close to the woman’s unbound legs.
A screw.
“What’s your name?”
“Alpha. He calls me Alpha.” She winced. “Sometimes he calls me ‘meat.’”
“What’s your real name?”
“I… I don’t think he would like that.”
Ember felt her jaw tightening as anger at Quinn bubbled up from her toes. But, she had to remain calm to keep this woman calm for what they needed to do. "Quinn isn't here. I’m here, and if we work together, we are going to get out of this dungeon. First, I need to know your name.”
The woman breathed for a few seconds, head down. “My real name is Angela.”
“Okay, Angela, my name is Ember. I’m going to get us out of here.”
Angela shook her head. “It won’t work. Beta tried once. He was very mean to her after that. I don’t like to think about how mean he was.”
“We can do this. I need you to trust me, okay?”
Angela cast terrified eyes at her, saying nothing, but her chin dipped in something like a nod.
“Okay, Angela. Look down and to your left. There’s a screw on the floor there. Do you see it?”
“Yes, I see it.”
“Okay, I need you to pull your left knee closer to your chest, foot flat on the floor.”
Angela grimaced as she shifted her body and pulled her leg back. She was wearing dirty gray sweatpants, with her bare feet jutting out from the bottom of the legs.
“Good, Angela. That’s good. Now, just scoot your left foot over a few inches until it’s over the top of the screw. You want to wedge the screw between your toes and your foot pad. Does that make sense?”
“I think so.” She scooted her foot over across the sawdust-covered concrete and placed it on top of the screw.
"Perfect. Now, I want you to pretend your foot is a hand. Flex your foot so you can grip the screw between your toes and the ball of your foot. Just scrunch your toes, and you should be able to pinch it in there. If it doesn't work at first, that's okay. We'll get this."
“Okay, I think I did it. I can feel it against my big toe.”
“Good, Angela. That’s good. Now comes the tricky part. My hands and my feet are cuffed, so you need to pitch the screw to me, but you have to be precise.”
Angela sputtered. “What does that mean?”
“You need to toss it into my lap, okay? I want you to think about where it’s going to land, then kick your knee out and relax your toes. One quick movement, then let that screw fly. Got it? You can do this. I know you can.”
Ember watched the shaky blonde woman nod through the darkness. It wasn’t a convincing gesture, but Ember didn’t have time for a longer pep talk.
“Okay. I’m ready.”
Ember tried to loosen her muscles, ready to receive the screw in midair. “Count to three, then let it fly. Just think about where you want it to land, nothing else.”
Angela took in a shuddering breath. “Okay. One… two… three.”
She kicked her leg out, and Ember could barely see the little piece of metal fly through the air. It soared over her head and ricocheted off the steel beam, then bounced on the floor and rolled away, out of reach.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
ZACH
When Zach opened the door to the Firedrake lab in Fort Collins, he didn’t see the usual dozen people in lab coats inside, scribbling notes and mixing compounds, hovering over a whirring centrifuge. Instead, he saw only his boss, Thomas Milligan, and Thomas’ “driver” Helmut. Thomas was sitting on one of the long tables they used to conduct their work. Helmut was at the far end of the room, standing at his customary stoic attention. Hands clasped over his waist, eyes forward. He was in a suit loose enough that Zach couldn’t spot the weapon bulge under his armpit, but Zach knew it was there.
“If you’re wondering where everyone else is,” Thomas said, flashing his million-dollar smile, “I gave them the day off.”
Zach leaned back toward the door. “Should I go?”
“Not at all,” Thomas said as he slid off the table and buttoned his suit coat. “I wanted to talk to you and you alone, my dear Zachary. Let’s chat in my office. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.” He brandished that blinding grin again. “The most important few minutes of your life.”
Helmut flinched like a robot waking up from a sleep cycle, then he made a slow march across the room and settled against the wall outside Thomas’ office. Eyes forward, back into stasis mode.
Thomas waved Zach forward, and Zach felt his feet moving, joining Thomas inside his office. He slid into the seat opposite the desk, but his eyes stayed on the floor. None of this felt right. Not Thomas' extra-positive attitude, not Helmut's extra-stoicism, not the empty lab. Something bad was about to happen, and Zach didn't know what he could do to stop it.
The older man sat in his chair and put his feet up on his desk. He folded his hands over his chest and locked his eyes on Zach, smiling and breathing, his face lit up like a Christmas tree.
“How are things?” Thomas asked.
“Things? Not good. But I have a feeling you already know.”
Still smiling, Thomas cocked his head, looking wounded. "That sounds like a pointed statement if I ever heard one. Care to explain a little further?"
Zach tried to swallow but found his mouth was drier than dirt. All the moisture in his body had transferred to his palms, sweating onto the legs of his jeans as he gripped them. How much more of this could he take?
Zach had to do something. He had to say something.
“You know what I mean,” Zach said, and despite the fact that his heart was pounding a thousand beats per minute, the words spilled out of him like he was watching someone else utter them. “Child porn? What kind of messed up shit is that? How could you do that to me?”
Once the accusation had left his lips, a cold terror descended on Zach. He’d done it. He’d said the words and let it all hang out. His vision rippled with stars as if he were running the last mile of a 10K, mainlining pure adrenaline to stave off the exhaustion.
Thomas pulled his feet down and leaned forward, his brow knitted together and a deep frown on his face. “Zach, if you’re in some kind of trouble, you should know you can always come to me. I hope you think of me as not just your boss. You know, for example, if you’re having money problems, like rent due and a roommate suddenly moving out? That’s something I could take care of today. Right this minute. It would be a worry off your plate, potentially for good.”
Zach pressed his lips together and breathed, air whistling in and out of his nose. He’d started it, and now he had to finish it. The time to be brave was now. No more letting them push him around.
“No.”
Thomas chuckled, his head cocked. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t want to do this anymore. I quit. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. Please stop harassing me. I can’t
take it. Please, just let me go back to my life before this. I don’t want any of it anymore. I don’t care what you’re doing here, and I’m not interested in telling anyone about the things I’ve seen or the things I’ve heard. I. Just. Want. Out.”
“I think we’ve had a terrible communication breakdown. Maybe we should start fresh.”
Zach stood, and a moment later, Helmut turned into the doorway behind him. The imposing figure kept his hands folded over his waist, but he seemed to have grown six inches in every direction since Zach had seen him last.
Thomas scowled. “Sit down, Zach. We’re not done talking.”
Zach stumbled a little as he found his seat. He wanted to show his bravery, but he also didn’t want Helmut to pull the gun from his armpit holster. It’s not as if Zach could wrestle Helmut to the ground when the guy had at least fifty pounds on him.
“That’s better,” Thomas said. “I work for a company that goes by a few names. It’s time I told you about what we’re doing. Maybe once you have a clearer picture, you’ll understand why I’m working so hard to get you to join the team. Okay?”
Zach pursed his lips and said nothing.
"It's about saving lives, Zachary. My company has developed a virus, and... Actually, there's no cause to be vague here. Let me tell you the whole story: we've developed this lifesaving technology of a virus — implanted inside a bacteria. We thought it was impossible for the longest time. Hell, it should still be impossible, but I’m telling you it’s true. We did it. Groundbreaking, earth-shattering stuff. Remember the paper you wrote on viral mutation in female pigs, the one that first brought you to my attention?”
“I remember.”
“You somehow managed to stumble onto a very similar sort of breakthrough. The thing is, we want to test it… probably in Africa. But, to be honest, because of politics in the company and certain people who have dollar signs in their eyes, I’m worried about how they intend to implement it. I think there’s a chance they botch the whole thing. So I have been tasked with working on a parallel project, in case that one doesn’t work out. We call it ‘the failsafe.’ And I want you, Zach, to come work on our failsafe project in Sacramento, which we can deploy if the Africa test can’t go forward. That’s it. That’s the whole thing.”