by Bella Street
***
Trent blinked through a haze of blood and saw Barney lunging for another attack. Using the last of his waning strength, he heaved his weight backward, taking the assailant behind him by surprise. Barney got a gut full of Trent's feet. He shoved hard and sent the older man toppling. Behind him the other man collapsed beneath him, momentarily releasing his hold from Trent's neck.
Trent sucked in air and twisted around, pile-driving a desperate fist into the man's face. He heard Barney approaching. Trent yanked the Kalashnikov from the fallen man's shoulder and fired once down the hallway in Barney's direction. The older man froze.
Trent jerked the rifle. “Get behind me. Now!”
Barney obeyed, his face a mask of hatred.
“Get next to your 'friend'!”
The other man rose to a sitting position, coughing up blood. Once Trent had them both in the gun sight, he scanned the hallway. Two doors down he saw a storage closet. He flicked the rifle to the door. “Get inside.” Barney jerked opened the door and entered, followed by the other man, who shot him a surly look mixed with bloody snot.
Trent looked up and down the hall to make sure it was clear, then peered inside the closet. Among an assortment of handyman tools, he found a pile of metal ratchet ties. He grabbed one and tossed it to Barney.
“Tie up his wrists.”
Trent wanted to make sure the bigger guy was incapacitated first, although Barney's wiliness made up for his trim size. The man complied while his friend scowled.
“You won't get away with this.”
“Looks like I just did.” He wiped away the blood from his eyes with his arm. “I grew up in the mean streets of L.A. There's no way I'm getting my ass kicked by a couple of organic gardeners.” He raised the gun and brought the butt down on Barney's head, sending him collapsing into a stack of brooms and mops. Trent tied up his wrists.
As he stepped away, his mind twisted through his options.
Seffy. She was in danger. Betty had to know about the reward.
But Fenn and Gareth might be close by and he needed the manpower to have a real chance at getting things back to normal. Normal for the compound anyway.
He stood leaning against the storage closet door, breathing hard, still winded from the attack. Glancing at Barney's friend, he saw a radio attached to his belt. Trent reached over and grabbed it. He tuned it until he found a transmission.
“We're on the way. The woman has been contained.”
Trent's pulse roared in his ears. Son of a bitch! He cracked open the storage door and scanned the hall. All clear. He ran in the direction of the room where he left Seffy, frantic as he tried to remember the way, his mind churning with visions of what they'd do to her once they had her back in their control.
He screeched around the first turn and raced to the end of the hall. Footsteps brought him up short at the next turn. He flattened himself against the opposite wall and listened hard. It sounded like at least five people were hurrying down the hall away from him. When their footsteps faded, he peeked around the corner. They had to be heading for the couple's room. Trent turned the corner and jogged after them.
His instincts were correct. Trent watched as they assembled outside the door, then busted it in. All the men filtered inside. He couldn't figure out what they were saying over the staccato of his heartbeat. He wondered why it took so many to apprehend one girl.
Trent readied his gun, levering it against the corner. As soon as they appeared with Seffy, he would have no choice but to pick them off as fast as he could. He took several deep breaths and blinked the sweat from his eyes as he squinted through the gun sight.
I can do this. One at a time.
A gabble of voices sounded in the room. The men fanned out from the opening, followed by the woman who was peeling duct tape from her wrists.
“I don't know which way she went! She threatened to infect me!”
Trent released a shaky breath and lowered the gun a few inches. Good for you, Sef.
But his initial elation was drowned by a stark knowledge that she had nowhere to go. Worse, he couldn't stick around to figure out where she might've gone. Seeing an armed man heading in his direction, he spun around and raced the opposite way. He cleared the corner and headed down the next hallway. All that remained was to locate Fenn and Gareth.
But how could he find any of them when he didn't know where the hell he was?
***
Seffy rushed down the stairwell, dreading the inevitable—another basement. Bad things happened in basements. Not to mention creating a zombie uprising from hapless disco dancers.
She twisted the handle. Unlocked. Easing through the door, she looked around, expecting to see a vast storage area. This place was vast, but instead of boxes and old furniture, huge computers lined two walls, some with old style reel-to-reel mechanisms and some with large blinking lights and dials. Along another wall was a bank of old PC computers manned by a group of hard core nerds.
After easing the door closed behind her, Seffy edged along the shadows, glad they were all too engrossed in their greenish flickering screens to notice her. She bit back a gasp when she saw Eugene Dexter—the science department head—walk by wearing the same white lab coat and thick framed glasses.
She suppressed an impulse to call out to him. Just because he'd seemed friendly and understanding at their last visit, didn't mean he couldn't use five grand himself. Seffy glanced at the polyester plaid pants sticking out from under his lab coat. He obviously needed that money more than most.
Peering behind her, she saw some large metal cabinets. The bottom portions looked quite large. If one were empty...
Seffy turned and approached the metal unit with silent backward steps. Keeping her eyes glued to the programmers, she slid open the bottom door centimeter by centimeter. She was sure they'd be able to hear the thundering of her heart, but the blessed ability of nerds to become sucked into their electronic worlds for once served a purpose. The cabinet door was open halfway now. She peeked inside and saw that it was empty.
The basement door crashed open. Seffy caught her breath, figuring the bad guys had discovered her escape from Betty's room. Of course they wanted to check the basement. Perfect. Glad for the clomping of their boots and brash voices, she eased the cabinet door open just enough to crawl inside and slid it closed.
Her respiration seemed to ricochet off the metal walls. She fought a rising panic over the lack of air. Seffy closed her eyes, forcing herself to relax. Then she heard footsteps next to the cabinet. She caught her breath and began to shake. Oh God, oh God, oh God...
“I'm telling you, no one came down here. There's twelve of us. I think we would have noticed a girl running into the room.”
The steps hesitated. Seffy held her breath, which was stupid because her lungs began screaming for air while the idiot standing beside her head couldn't decide what to do.
“Well, report to us immediately if you see anything.”
“Of course.”
Once the footsteps faded, Seffy released a ragged breath and decided never to make fun of nerds again. Social cluelessness had just proved its value. She slid open the door closest to her head a couple of inches for air, then curled up, using her arm as a pillow. Her little escape jaunt had knocked the stuffing out of her. As her eyes drifted closed, she wondered how Trent was doing. Had he freed the others? Did he know she'd escaped?
She almost missed him.
Chapter Seven
Trent mashed himself against a wall, pressing the radio to his ear, trying to hear what was going on using the lowest volume setting on the radio. By staying just out of sight of the guards, he was able to follow them, hoping they were headed back to where Fenn and the others were being held.
He scanned the area looking for some way to tell one hallway from the next. There had to be some kind of system in place. He heard those on the radio using numbers with directionals, which didn't help when there were no posted numbers or letters. How stupid t
hat he'd need a compass to navigate inside a building!
Trent saw the men leaving the area and followed at a distance. He strained to hear their conversation but they were too far away. The doors he passed were presumably residences. Where were the people? Were they still in lockdown mode? Probably. He thought of Seffy and the way she'd freaked Betty out. He hoped her quick thinking had also helped her hide.
Trent sped up to stay on track with the men. They seemed to have a purpose. Using his radio at such low volume was almost useless. He'd just have to assume he was going the right direction.
After walking what had to be at least half a mile, the color of the painted concrete block changed from white to gray. He remembered the gray where he'd been held along with the others. Then again, maybe it was just dingy white. The men slowed. Trent ducked back behind the corner to watch unobserved. All senses on alert, he peered around the corner and saw them milling around, checking their radios, seeming restive and unorganized. Apparently they didn't appreciate two escapees messing up their day.
Trent froze when he heard a door opening behind him. Chancing a look over his shoulder, he saw a young girl coming out into the hall. She was peering in the opposite direction. He held his breath. If she saw him and made a fuss—
The girl turned back toward the door, her gaze locking with his. She was about ten, with big brown eyes. Her face grew ashen. Trent put his fingers to his lips and shook his head. She opened her mouth. He considered pointing his gun at her but decided it wouldn't help.
“Just go back inside and close the door!” he hissed. “If you don't, I'll grab you and use you as a hostage!”
That worked. The girl nipped into the room and slammed the door. Trent peeked back around the corner, realizing the noise caught the guards' attention. Pressing his head against the wall, he readied the gun. Any second an outraged parent would be coming from one side, and from the other, many armed men.
Well, this blows.
As the unhurried footsteps neared, he knew he needed to deal first with the threat he could see. Trent slid around the corner, aimed and shot a guard in the hip. Then another in the arm. He shot quickly, knowing the moment they had their weapons at the ready, he was a goner. A third man collapsed while discharging his firearm. Cement dust sprayed just above Trent's head.
He spun back to the other side of the corner in time to see a man, presumably the girl's father, coming at him with a baseball bat. Trent pointed the rifle and told the man to get back in the room using his best Dirty Harry voice. It worked. Trent spun back the other way.
The barrel of a gun came around the corner. He used his weapon to shove it up and out of the way. At the same time, he kicked the man hard in the kneecap, sending him collapsing to the floor. Trent knocked him out then dragged him around the corner and divested him of his rifle. He slung it over his back.
Breathing hard, he waited for the next man. When all was silent, he peered around the corner—and almost got his head blown off.
He had to deal with this now before reinforcements arrived. Sliding down the wall into a crouched position, Trent eased the barrel of the gun around the corner and fired several rounds. The man screamed. Trent whipped around and saw him on the floor, reaching for the dropped rifle. He ran up to the man, stepped on his wounded leg and recovered the rifle. The man began cursing, but Trent ignored him and scooped up the rest of the weapons before any of them were able to recover. Then he jogged in the direction they'd been heading and looked around another corner.
Yes.
The rooms where the others were being held were at the end of the hall. He recognized the heavier doors with barred windows. The guards were maneuvering into position and calling for backup. Trent appeared around the corner and sprayed gunfire across the ceiling, disorienting them. Taking advantage of the distraction, he took out two more.
Using the corner as cover, he waited until the return fire stopped. Struggling to hear over the thundering of his pulse, he picked up the stealthy approach of a guard. Trent slid his rifle to the ground and pointed it around the corner, layering the floor with automatic gunfire. The distraction worked again. The guard pinwheeled backward. Trent then neutralized him and relieved him of his weapon.
He approached the end of the hall, exposed on both ends. A guard appeared around the corner and fired. Trent was knocked back onto the floor as white hot pain tore through his shoulder.
Fury dumped adrenaline into his system and he pulled himself up and returned fire. The guard, thinking he'd already done the deed, went down hard.
Breathing through gritted teeth, Trent lurched to his feet and ran to the end of the hall.
One guard remained, but he raised his hands up in surrender. Trent grabbed the guard's weapon, pointed his gun and instructed him to open the doors. Following behind, Trent allowed himself a short breather. He wasn't sure how he'd made it past all the armed men and guessed none of them were professionals. He never would've made it through guards with any law enforcement or military experience. The faction must be made up of disgruntled residents. God, he could've been killed. Wouldn't be much help to Seffy then. Thinking of her made his gut clench. Where was she? Had he made the right choice going for help first?
The guard arrived at the first cell, scrambling to get the key in the paint-chipped metal door. Trent wiped the sweat from his forehead, willing him to hurry up.
Fenn burst from the first door, looking gaunt and dazed. Trent tossed him a rifle, hoping he could trust the man who had let them down more than once.
“What do you know?”
Trent tried to have a little sympathy for the compound leader who looked like death warmed-over. Unable to keep a note of derision from his voice, he said, “I got out when my guard lowered his defense, then I went for Seffy. You're going to have to explain why they made her a human guinea pig.”
Fenn's already pasty face paled, which made the blue of his eyes all the more stark. “They hurt her?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“And then some.”
“Where is she now?”
Trent felt himself flush. “I left her with residents who ended up selling her out. I know she got away, I just don't know where she went.”
Fenn seemed to go inside himself for a moment, then his face hardened. “Let's get everyone released, then we'll find her.”
He led him to another hallway where the others were being held. When the guard saw Fenn, he dropped his weapon and surrendered. Fenn handcuffed the guard and hurried to release Gareth, who erupted from his cell, his shirt bloodstained, his dark eyes, fiery.
“Give me a gun.”
Trent handed him a weapon, then glanced at Fenn. “What about the others?”
While Gareth checked his magazine, Fenn looked down the hall where the holding cells were. “Can Jared handle a weapon?”
“I've got three more rifles. I say we arm everyone we can.”
Fenn tossed him the keys. Trent opened the next door and Jared stumbled out, disheveled and relieved. “Dude,” he croaked. “It's about time. Where's the blonde chick?”
Trent ignored him, assuming he was asking about Eva. He turned the key in the next door.
Malone was next, looking even more grizzled and sinister. He had stubble on his chin and his usually bald pate. Combined with his green eyes, he looked like the devil himself.
Despite his idea of arming everyone, Trent hesitated handing a gun to Malone, a fact which the man noticed.
“I'm a victim here, too,” he groused, holding out his hand.
“You mean when you sold us out to Popov or almost got Seffy killed so you could get free?”
“Trent,” Fenn said, “he's on our side. Give him a gun.”
Before Trent could hold out the weapon, Malone snatched it away and checked the selector. “I'll make it up to Seffy,” he said, his voice sounding like sandpaper over gravel.
Whatever. Trent turned away and one by one, released Lani, Eva, Cynthia and Addison.
“I wan
t a gun,” Addison demanded when she pushed past the cell door, her red hair a spiky mess.
Lani came out and rushed to Malone's side. He gave her a distracted squeeze, still staring at Trent. Cynthia and Eva staggered out holding on to each other. “Get us out of here!” Cynthia wailed. “You can't treat us like this! We have rights!”
“Aren't we forgetting someone?” Lani asked in a wobbly voice as Malone released her.
Gareth turned to Fenn. “Where's Seffy?”
“First we need to get the girls to safety.”
“I can handle myself,” Addison snapped. “What took so long? We were in there for like a week!”
No one answered her.
Fenn glanced from Trent to the group, his gaze shifting. What was he hiding?
“I need to get to the computer room. That's the closest public address station. If I can get a message to the residents, maybe I can get them on my side again.” He took the handcuffed guard's radio from his belt.
“Fine,” Trent said, once again out of options. “You're going to have to lead because I don't know where the hell I am.”
“Hey,” Gareth said through clenched teeth, “where's Seffy?”
“We don't know,” Fenn said quietly. “But she escaped the room she was in.”
“How do you know?”
Fenn look at Trent, then checked over his gun.
Trent considered his answer, aware of Lani's and Addison's anxious expressions. Gareth looked ready to rip someone's throat out. He was also probably fighting an infection from the gunshot wounds. “I got her out. But we were separated.”
“What do you mean separated?”
“We'll find her.”
“I'll find her,” Gareth said, his demeanor switching from hot to cold.
Trent looked away, disgusted.
Fenn suddenly twisted around and braced himself against the wall. Shudders wracked his body and Trent wondered if he was going to be sick.