“Mi!” I hiss, tightening my hold around the guard's neck dangerously, “Help Scarlet!”
Mi immediately leaves his own opponent, elbowing Scarlet's in the back and sending him crumpling to the floor. Scarlet whips out a baton and smacks him in the base of his skull with it. The remaining soldier recovers, moves for Mi, but he senses him coming and ducks out of the way. His bullets hit his fallen comrade instead and he freezes with shock and terror. Scarlet takes advantage of this and knocks him out. Finally, I let go of my own.
Two unconscious, one dead. Not by our hand, but by our presence. We will all carry a little piece of this.
Not losing another moment, Scarlet removes all the rounds from their weapons, just in case they come to, and we move for the stairs.
“They knew we would come,” Scarlet pants as we run, “They were guarding that entrance– who knows how many more there are?”
We'll find out. The holding cells are eight floors down.
The tower quickly branches into a corridor, and voices rise from the other end.
“Five,” says Mi, swallowing.
There is no cover. In a matter of seconds, they will appear, and fire will rain down upon us. We are completely exposed. We need to get out of this corridor. I turn to the nearest door. It's locked, but it's only wood. A swift kick quickly fixes that.
“Wait,” says Scarlet, “do the next one– hurry!”
I don't argue with her. I don't have time to. Two doors are now knocked down, both revealing classrooms of some kind, used for military training. They're stuffed with books and boards and paper.
Scarlet pulls down her goggles and wrenches something from her belt. “Tear gas,” she says. “Lure them into one, get out, and we'll let this baby do the work.”
It's a decent plan. Taking on five heavily-armed guards in close quarters and trying not to kill them is no simple task.
Mi and I nod, rushing into the first room. We each grab a desk and flatten ourselves against the internal wall. The guards stream into the room and we crash into their backs before they can turn, leaping back out into the corridor as Scarlet breaks from her hiding spot and chucks the grenade into the room. Gas explodes. The place is thick with it.
Not even we are fully immune to the effects of tear gas, so we sprint away as it spills out into the corridor, leaving the guards coughing and choking in the haze.
We hit the main stairs. All the way down now till the bottom.
A voice buzzes in our ears.
“Alpha team! Have you found them yet?”
“Not yet,” Scarlet replies. “We're experiencing more resistance than expected. How's the other team?”
“Holding strong, but they're heavily outnumbered.”
“Can they escape?”
A short pause. “Yes,” he replies.
Scarlet and I both look at one another.
“Are you safe, still?” I ask.
“We remain undetected.”
“Then get the other team out,” I decide. “We'll find the captives and get them to your location.”
“Roger,” replies Harris stonily. “Hurry.”
More voices from the bottom of the stairs, a readying of weapons.
“Three,” Mi tells us.
I launch myself over the railings and down several flights at once, crashing clean into one of them and rendering him instantly unconscious. My hands on the bannister, I deliver a kick to another and send him flying into the last. All three are out cold by the time Mi and Scarlet arrive, panting and out of breath. We disarm them and fling their weapons to the bottom floor. We're close now, so close–
The door at the end of the final floor is barred, but we've anticipated this. Scarlet brings out the remainder of our explosives and attaches them to the locks and hinges. The door blows over with ease. There are two more guards stationed inside. Bullets immediately begin firing. Mi seizes Scarlet and yanks her to the ground, but she's up again in an instant, readying a smoke bomb.
The room explodes into thick, palpable smog, but this means nothing to me or Mi. We slide into the room, listening for the wheezing of guards, making quick work of them together.
“Here!” Mi says, pressing something into my hands. A key card. I fumble along the corridor, calling out, searching for a cell. Muffled cries –calls from behind several sheets of glass– finally reach me. I find the keypad and slide the card against it. The smoke begins to clear.
“Hello?”
Four faces swim into view, frightened, hopeful. But not one of them is Nick's.
No.
“The other two,” I swallow, “where are they?”
“They killed Amy,” one of them, a lean, muscular man says.
“And... and Nick?”
A small girl in the corner sobs. “They... they said they were going to... to do something to us.” She swallows, as if whatever they threatened them with is too horrible to be repeated. “And Nick... he volunteered to be first. They... they took him... just a few hours ago.”
“Is he still here?”
“I don't know.”
I wheel round to Abi and Mi. “Get these people out. I'm going to find Nick.”
“Ashe–” Mi starts.
“Get them out. Do not wait for us.”
One of them shouts at me to stop and Mi calls my name, but I filter everything out.
Chapter 33
I race to the next level and find myself somewhere quieter. I need to find another guard, another person. I need to find out where they've taken him. All of these men are out cold, but there will be someone left in the building–
I think back to what Mi said earlier. You have super hearing too. Use it!
When I think, when I really think, and stop, and listen, I can hear everything. The steady heartbeats of the fallen guards. The distant rumble of machinery. The footsteps of the others making their way to the exit, the scraping of a door opening, two stories above me–
Two stories above. There's a person moving about freely.
Not for much longer.
I bolt up the stairs, two at a time, plunging into the next corridor. No guard. I'm not thinking clearly any more, I'm not being careful. I try to still my breathing and span out my senses, but my moment of foolishness costs me. An iron hand grips the back of my neck and sends me flying into the wall. I am knocked senseless. My eyes feel like they're pouring out of my skull. My ears ring. One side of my head throbs dizzily; I've lost my earpiece.
A blow that hard could have killed an ordinary person, or should have at least disabled them. My opponent clearly thinks it was enough; he makes no further moves. I even think I hear him laugh. I focus on a spot of dirt on the floor, waiting for my sight to return to normal, and count each breath.
I just need to listen.
He is about four feet behind me, holding a handgun, just in case I turn. But I can tell he does not expect me to, nor does he expect me to be so fast.
In a few movements, his weapon is in my hand, and he is pressed against the floor.
“You won't shoot,” he says, his words a lot surer than his expression.
I don't know who this person is that he thinks I won't shoot, but I quickly correct him. I aim my weapon at his arm and pull the trigger. He seethes in pain as the flesh rips open.
“That's a flesh wound. The next bullet goes in your kneecap. People tend to be very attached to those. Pun intended.” I take aim again. “Now tell me... where is the last prisoner being held?”
“He's... he's in the infirmary.”
“Is he hurt?”
The guard grins. “Not too badly. I'm sure he'll walk out just fine.”
I'm not sure what's so amusing about this and my mind immediately jumps to all the other places that they could have hurt him, all the other body parts that would leave the legs completely intact. I swear, I will return every injury on this guard if they even dared–
“Take me to him,” I order, trying to refocus.
“I'm not going–”
“Kneecaps. How many would you like to have by the end of the day?”
The guard glares, clutching his arm, and shuffles out of the room with my gun pointed squarely at his head.
“Walk faster–”
“Or kneecaps. Yes, I know.”
It would be counter-productive to shoot him in the legs now, but I don't tell him this; he picks up the pace. We go up two more flights of stairs, along a corridor, turn a corner and–
“There.” The guard points to a room at the end of the hallway.
“Thank you, henchman, you have been most obliging.”
I gesture to a nearby glass pod. The entire floor is composed of them; cells lined with medical beds, equipment.
“Go on.” I nudge his back with the muzzle and he grudgingly slips inside. I run my key card over the panel. It slides shut. I give my prisoner a wave and blow him a kiss.
Nick.
Not wasting another fraction of time, I sprint towards the last cell. A figure is strapped to the bed, his dark-blond head turned away from me. It's him. It's him. My eyes hover his inert form, checking him for any damage. There's a few cuts and bruises, but nothing that looks particularly deliberate. Fingers, hands, arms, all intact.
I unlock the door. His face turns towards me and breaks into a wondrous, rapturous, bewildered half-smile.
“Ashe,” he breathes, “You– you're... what are you doing here?”
I cross the room and start unbuckling, pulling him out of the bed with a frantic, desperate energy. I almost want to cry as I pat him down and double-check for any injuries.
“Even if I wasn't falling for you, I never would have left you here,” I rush. “Come on, we need to move.”
“Ashe–”
A crash sounds not far off. Reinforcements.
If I hoped that our way out would be easy because I must have dispatched most of the guards, I am sorely disappointed. We've barely got up half a flight before I hear the sounds of people moving beneath us, many of them, dozens, perhaps more. There is no way I can take them on, and Nick is much slower than I'd like. We belt up the stairs, towards the tower, the hatch that was our entry, now our only way out.
I could outrun them, but Nick is struggling. By the end, I'm almost carrying him, pushing him up the ladder onto the roof. I slam it shut behind us, but it does little good; we damaged it too much getting in.
The yard is swimming with guards. A helicopter swarms above us.
Is this it?
“What's that?”
Nick points to a cable, tied to a flagpole. A thick, heavy cable, that goes straight over the wall and finishes above the window of a nearby abandoned building.
A zip line. It's from Abi. I know it is.
I unbuckle my belt.
“Grab onto me,” I instruct.
Nick only makes one slightly flustered sound before following my advice. We launch ourselves off the roof, the window of the next building rushing up to greet us.
We catapult through the window in a shower of glass and dust, hitting the concrete floor in a sprawling mass of limbs. I roll to my feet immediately, but Nick staggers and I have to reach out to catch him.
“Look, I know I'm quite the heroic rescuer, but there's no need to swoon!”
I laugh, but Nick doesn't laugh back. They've done something to him, something he doesn't want to mention yet, because we don't have the time and I need to focus.
I shake him, even though what I really want to do is touch his cheek, ask if he's all right, and help him. “Hey,” I say, “Stay with me.”
Nick breathes deeply and blinks several times. “If you insist.”
I cut the cable with my dagger before the guards can follow us. We have a few minutes with which to make our escape. Even if guards on the ground saw us crash into the building, they would still need to exit the compound, locate the entrance, and race up the stairs. Five minutes minimum; longer if they came from inside.
We are still far from safe.
“Come on,” I urge Nick, “We need to move.”
I haul him towards a window. It affords me a better view of the area. We are next to a stream that gives way to a lake; the same lake I must have been able to see from the hotel. It could offer me a good means of escape. My underwater vision is excellent and I can hold my breath for five minutes, and no way are any heavily-armed soldiers following me, but Nick won't be able to last that long. I need to stay land bound–
Or do I?
Nick needs to stay land bound, but if I can convince everyone we've both plunged into the waters–
The helicopter whirs overhead. I scan the floor for cover. There are empty crates, broken pieces of furniture, ripped tarpaulin. I grab Nick's arm and pull him over to the corner, practically stuffing him inside one of the boxes.
“Um, what are you–”
“I'm distracting them,” I rush. “Don't worry, I'll come back for you.”
Nick looks like he wants to say something else –or do something else– but I don't give him the chance. I'm already back on my feet, streaming towards the door. Several stories below, footsteps are approaching. I look around for something to grab their attention, to make them focus on me, ignoring the other floors.
I spot an empty fire extinguisher, wrench it off the wall and lob it over the side. It's hard to ignore, but I don't wait for any confirmation. I need to get to the roof.
A few seconds later, I've reached the top, but I pause, waiting for the helicopter to pass over. I need to be sure they aren't going to realise I'm alone. I focus on the sound of the propellers cutting through the air, the whir of the engine. I wait until it's tilted away from me and the soldiers are much closer, then pick up the remains of a chair and bolt out into the open, straight for the edge.
I toss the chair into the water. It makes a resounding splash and I draw attention to it, yelling and screaming at the ripples to dive, pretending it's Nick that's just gone over. The helicopter spots me and turns around, and I wait just long enough for it to register a disturbance in the water before I plummet over the edge.
Bullets spear the water after me, but their speed is slowed once they strike the surface. I crawl through the murk, skimming the top just enough for them to think I'm going further out, and then I dive down deeper, double-back, and wait.
One minute. Two.
The guards stand at the edge of the dock, waiting for me to resurface. One of them starts to count how long I've been down.
Three minutes.
By four, they are giving up. My lungs burning, I slide under one of the docks, surfacing carefully, breathing inaudibly.
“She's dead,” says one of them. “No one can stay under that long.”
“And the boy?”
“Must have gone in first.”
“Boss'll want the bodies.”
“Then he can get some divers in. Come on, we're done here.”
I wait until all footsteps have died away. The helicopter is hovering far out over the lake, still searching, but it would be almost impossible to notice me at this distance. I crawl out of the waters and back inside the building. My energy is low, but I'm keen to get back to Nick and get out of here as quickly as we can.
He meets me halfway down the stairs, gripping the banister as though in pain. His face is incredibly grey.
“I saw you go into the water,” he breathes. “I was sure... you were down so long... can you breathe underwater?”
Somehow, I manage to laugh. “No, just great at holding my breath!”
He knows this. He was there when I told Julia. Has he forgotten in the heat of the moment?
“Right...” He stumbles forwards and I rush up to catch him.
What's wrong with him?
“Can you... can you hot wire a car?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Can... can you drive one?”
“I can do that too.”
“Great... because I think I'm going to pass out.”
His face goes even
greyer, his body loses all energy and he goes completely limp. His eyes roll back in their sockets.
“Nick!”
“Don't worry,” he whispers, “I won't die. I never do.”
Chapter 34
Nick stays conscious just long enough for me to locate a car, hotwire it, and thrust him inside. He programs the controls to direct me towards the garage safe house and then passes out in his seat.
It is at this point, in the quiet, that the terror truly sets in. I have no idea what is wrong with him and I am utterly alone in this strange land. With my earpiece missing, there is no way for me to contact Harris and the others. I do not know if they escaped, and I do not know if they will come back for us.
Going to the safe house is definitely our best bet, but crawling through the city is no easy task. I wasn't lying when I said I could drive, in that I can steer and use the peddles and such, but the slums aren't exactly big on rules and road signs. I have no idea what all these lines and lights mean, and rely on copying others a great deal of the time. I do not think I do a very good job, and I'm conscious of all the cameras. I'll need to ditch this vehicle as soon as I can.
Finally, blissfully, we arrive at the garage. It's locked, but Nick's ID chip opens it up. I haul him out and place him in one of the bunks. I've no idea what to do next. I'm at a complete loss. I need Mi. I need someone, anyone here to tell me what to do. I'm OK with blood and broken bones and injuries, I've had enough of them myself, but this... this is out of my comfort zone.
I watch Nick on the bunk, his cheeks flushed, his breathing restless, and every organ twists inside. Way out of my comfort zone.
All I can do for him is to take off his boots and cover him with a blanket. I don't know much else about medical care, and nothing appears wrong with him externally.
I need to ditch the car. A lot of the fancy models have tracking chips and I can't afford anyone discovering us before... before whatever happens next. Ditching a car I can do. I drive it a few blocks away until I find a street that looks free from cameras, and walk back swiftly. I can't risk taking it any further away, as I've left the garage door ajar and Nick defenceless. Thankfully nothing looks out of place when I return.
The Phoenix Project: Book I: Flight Page 16