“Lock the door behind me and don’t say anything to the others,” I order her, and slip into the hallway.
Moving quickly, I feel for the knives sheathed at both of my hips. There are two guys out the front of John’s room.
“Hey – ”
I drop the first with a quick punch to the jaw. Calmly I spin to block the second guy’s fist, gripping his wrist and pulling him into my chest. My knife is at his throat, nicking the skin.
“Open the door,” I say, and he does so with a few dopey blinks. He’s high as a kite, struggling with the electric key.
Inside I tell him to take a seat and relax. I find John in bed with a woman who’s having a nightmare or a bad trip or something, moaning and shifting on the dirty sheet. John is sitting with his back turned to ignore her, and he’s bent over a tablet featuring a photo of Josephine from a few years ago. She looks young and thin, and as much like a drug addict as the rest of these poor people.
“Hey, mate,” I say softly.
John twists in alarm and clutches at his chest. “Jesus. Scared the shit out of me, beast.” His eyes are horribly red and puffy.
“She alright?” I ask, nodding to the girl in bed.
“Dream enhancers,” John sighs. “You never know what they’re gonna do to your head. She likes the nightmares, you know. Doesn’t like to be woken out of them.”
Live like humans, dream like savages. The dream enhancer slogan.
I crouch before him and look up into his scarred face. “You really do like her, don’t you?”
He glances at the picture of Josi again.
“How many guys have you sent to detain her in the morning?”
John’s lips twist in humor. “Six.”
“Do they have orders to kill the rest of us if we get in the way?”
“Of course.”
I hold his brown eyes. “And did you really think six men would be enough?”
The smile disappears. “I let her go once. It’s not happening again.”
“Who do you give your orders to?” I ask him. “Can that bloke out the front relay directions from you?”
He looks surprised at the very idea that I would expect him to answer.
“I’m going to assume he can,” I say. Into the other room, I call, “Kid, come in here.”
The guy on guard duty stumbles in, looking at us blankly.
“Orders for the morning have changed. No one is to attack Josephine and her friends.”
John laughs. “You’re audacious, aren’t ya?”
I turn, draw my knives and swiftly slice through both his wrists, long slashes that open up the length of his arteries.
John stares in shock for a moment, and then the blood swells out of him. A strangled scream erupts from his throat.
“Calm down,” I murmur. “You’ll be alright. There’s a hospital right down the road.”
“Why did you – ?” He is going into shock. The color has left his face. A lot of blood is gushing at this point. I reach down and pull the bed sheet out from under the dreaming girl; she doesn’t wake despite the sudden chaos in the room.
“Would you like me to wrap your wounds?” I ask John.
He nods dumbly.
“No problem. First you tell this man here to change the orders.”
“Do it,” John urges, and the guy dashes out, glad to be away from this nightmare.
“You won’t give Josephine another thought, will you?”
John shakes his head quickly. I tear the sheet and wrap it around his two slashed wrists, then help him to the door.
The first guard I knocked out is coming around.
“You can take your boss to the hospital,” I tell him, and watch the two of them stumble down the hallway, dripping blood.
An idea occurs to me and I go back to the bedroom, grabbing John’s discarded tablet. Before it locks itself I change the passcode.
The poor girl is still thrashing wildly and I feel as though I should wake her, but in the end there’s something too chilling about it. Whether it’s my own cowardice at the thought of what I would be faced with if she woke, or whether I’m simply afraid of seeing the remnants of the nightmares in her eyes, I leave her.
Pace lets me into our room and I tell her to go back to bed. There is blood on my hands and she looks at it, then at my face, and seems to re-evaluate what she knows about me.
First I stash the tablet in my pack. Then I go to the bathroom and without turning on the light I wash my hands. Someone moves in the doorway and I look to see Josi. Standing in the spill of light from the lamp in her bedroom, she gazes at the blood trickling down the sink in a swirl of water.
“Is he dead?” she asks. Her voice still sounds cold: the person she has to be when in this building.
I shake my head. Not yet, anyway.
And the scary thing is that I don’t feel bad. Nor do I care if he makes it to the hospital before he bleeds out. I could have killed him; he’s scum. But for all the lives I’ve taken in combat or on missions, I have never murdered anyone.
“But you hurt him?”
I nod.
She rests her head against the doorframe. “I wanted to hurt him.”
“You did – pepper spray’s a bitch.”
“I wanted to really hurt him.”
“You’re not a violent person, Josi.”
Her lips pull into an incredulous smile. “What world are you living in, Luke Townsend?”
“The one in which you’re so horrified at the thought of harming anyone that you go into a state of complete catatonia and sleep for three days straight,” I reply bluntly. “So don’t tell me that you’re a violent person, because you’re not.”
She gazes at me in the dark. I can feel her longing for what we once had on my skin; I am saturated in it. “Are you a violent person?”
I don’t answer. We both look at the blood as it swirls down the drain.
Josi sighs and heads back to bed. I finish washing up and take my position at the door.
Chapter 9
February 8th, 2066
Josephine
“Ben’s in a medical research lab,” Luke tells us as the sun rises and we get our stuff together. He’s taking us through the info he hacked into on Ben’s computer.
“Where?” Hal asks.
“Two suburbs north. We’ll walk it.”
“Why’s he in a medical research lab?” I ask.
Luke shrugs.
“Doesn’t that seem weird to you?”
“I guess.” He contemplates, but there’s not really an answer. “We need supplies first.”
“How are we meant to get those?” Pace asks. “We can’t buy anything.”
“I’ve got a bunch of untraceable credit cards,” I say.
“Where?”
“Locker at the bus station.”
So that’s where we head. Nobody tries to stop us in the apartment building and we don’t leave a single vial of blood behind. I’d rather cut off my own hand than leave my blood for John, and I’m pretty sure the others feel the same as it doesn’t come up once.
It takes us about an hour to get to the bus station and thankfully my locker is still intact. I pull out the duffel from within and search through it for the cards. They don’t have all that much credit on them, but at least they can’t be traced to me. Luke’s illegal cash may have worked on the outskirts of town last year, but we won’t be able to use cash in the middle of the city – it’d be way too obvious.
There’s a spare t-shirt in my bag, which I grab, but nothing else of any use. It strikes me how little I actually own. Everything else I carted around with me is long gone now – left in Luke’s swanky apartment, no doubt pilfered by the Bloods. I took pains to carry my books wherever I went, but losing them is hardly the end of the world. I had a few items of clothing, two pairs of shoes, some toiletries and that’s about it.
The only thing I have ever cared about owning, really cared about, was my cello.
“Got
’em,” I say, stashing the bag back in the locker.
We stay spread out in our little pairs to travel, but maintain visuals of each other as much as possible. Our next stop is a huge shopping center, where there will be too many people for us to stand out. None of them look at us, just as they don’t look at each other.
We head to the hardware section. I push the trolley and Luke piles in items like coils of rope, hammers and nails, measuring tape and gas masks. The blueprint takes shape in my mind and I’m starting to see what his plan might be.
“Get a flashlight,” I tell him.
He grabs two. When we’ve stocked up we all reconvene in the parking garage, finding a blind spot where none of the security cameras will catch us. Luke has bought a sheet of poster-sized paper and a pencil, and he pops me down in front of it. “Recreate, Rain Man.”
I start drawing the blueprint from Ben’s computer.
“Freak,” Pace calls me, but I ignore her and make sure I get every angle, door, window and staircase perfect.
“This is the lab, provided by our resident savant Josi,” Luke says when I’m done. “First-floor entrances, security check points, stairwells, levels two, three and four.” He points out each element. “These here are the underground levels, and this bottom one, six floors below ground, is where Ben was being kept until yesterday, and hopefully still is.”
“Oh Lord,” Hal sighs.
“At least we don’t have to find Josephine Luquet’s blood!” Will exclaims cheerfully, winking at me.
“Yep, we’ve got only one objective.”
We all study the map together. I know Luke already has a plan, but he obviously wants us to get our bearings before piling on.
“Elevator shaft,” I eventually say. It’s the only way to move down through the levels without being noticed.
“Yep.”
“Not me,” Hal says immediately. “I hate heights.”
“You’re right, mate,” Luke tells him. “It’ll be me and Josi.”
My eyes widen. “Me?”
“You go where I go. That was the deal when I agreed to let you come.” I can hear the note of warning in his voice that reminds me how seriously he takes his job. “Our three teams will split up and enter from different points around the building. We go in through the vents. Josi and I will drop down through the shaft. But here’s where it gets tricky. These doors need the prints and retinal scans of one of the specified scientists. They can’t be overridden.”
“So we need to incapacitate a scientist and use his body,” Pace surmises.
“Right. Once we’ve done that, we face multiple security points, at which there will be several Bloods.”
“We can’t take out multiple Bloods!”
“That’s why we’re gonna gas them with whatever Hal and Pace can steal from the storage supplies.”
“And then feed it through the air-conditioning vents?” Hal ventures.
“Got it. When everyone’s down, Josi and I’ll go in and extract Ben.”
“What gas are we using?” I query. “And won’t it mess with the patients? We can’t just gas innocent people if we don’t know how it’ll affect their treatments.”
“There’s a synthetic toxin that won’t harm anyone, no matter what’s in their system,” Pace tells us. “It’s just like going to sleep. Reckon the lab’ll have some.”
I’m impressed that she knows this. Guess Dodge isn’t quite as useless a scientist as I gave him credit for after the Luke-nearly-dying debacle.
“So you’ll need to go in dressed as Bloods,” Luke tells them. “And then get out fast before you go to sleep.”
“What about you two?”
I hold up the gas masks with a Wheel of Fortune-esque flourish of my fingers.
“What about me and Shadow?” Will asks.
“You guys need to disconnect the alarms, which you can do from this point, before we set off the gas – it only takes the push of a button and the whole thing could be screwed. Stay to the vents and head north. Then we need you to make sure we have a clear exit, ’cause we’re gonna be lugging an unconscious old guy.”
We change into our black combat gear, which will make us look like Bloods at a glance, then stuff our backpacks in a garbage bin ready to retrieve on the way out. We hunker down on the roof of the building opposite to wait for night, watching the building for the patterns of movement outside and within. Guards walk the perimeter with dogs, but they only pass by every hour.
As darkness descends Luke orders us to do a weapons check.
I have my knives and my pepper spray (which I now have complete respect for), as well as two handguns, an automatic rifle over my shoulder, and a sheath of extra magazines strapped to my chest. I’m also wearing a bulletproof vest underneath my shirt, have my gas mask clipped to the back of my belt, my backpack full of supplies and all of it together has ended up being so ludicrously heavy that I can barely walk.
“Walkies check.”
Everyone checks their walkies, as well as their watches, and then we go for it.
There’s no one around at this time of night. We’ve waited for most of the workers to go home for the day, and we’ve made sure to move only when the guards should be on the other side of the building. Luke and I identify the security cameras and skirt around them to find the exterior vent we need. A screwdriver makes quick work of the frame and Luke boosts me up into the metal duct. I have no hope of pulling him in after me, but luckily he hoists himself in without any trouble, replacing the vent behind us.
Crawling as silently as we can, we make our way forward and take two right turns, heading for the vent directly opposite the elevator shaft.
“Josi,” Luke says softly, pausing in front of me. “Take a deep, slow breath.”
I frown, then realize that I have been breathing very quickly, and my heart is pounding with nerves. “I’m fine,” I whisper.
“I know you are. Humor me.”
I draw a long, deep breath, then another and another, and slowly feel my heart rate moderate itself. “Okay.”
We keep moving.
The walkie crackles and Will’s voice sounds. “Alarms are off, amigos. We ran into a few guards along the way but Shadow made quick work of ’em.”
“Nice,” Luke replies. “Make your way to the north vents and scope out our exit. Red team, how are you guys coming along with the gas?”
“We’ve found a lock-up of medical supplies, but we’re just waiting for the ground to clear a bit before we make a move,” Pace replies.
“Okay, take it easy – we can wait longer if it means you get in and out without being seen.”
“Copy that.”
“If the alarms are off why does it matter if they see us?” I ask Luke.
“They’ll just put the lockdown protocol into place, and then we have no hope of getting in even with stolen prints and retinas. Plus, you know – they’ll, like, come and kill us.”
“Oh. That was a dumb question.”
“You’re allowed one or two every blue moon,” he consoles. “You doing okay?”
“Yep. You?”
“I’m having fun, actually.”
“Sicko,” I grin.
“I’d be having more fun if you weren’t here,” he admits, then stops and turns around with a wriggle so he can face me. He reaches out and starts to carefully remove the rifle. “Leave this one behind, kid. It’s too heavy and it’s making a whole bunch of noise.”
“What about the fact that me only having a pistol would be like me having nothing?”
“Ah well, shit happens.”
“Oh, great, Luke.”
Still, as soon as the enormous weapon has been dumped in the vent I’m a lot more relaxed. Feeling as though you can’t move properly is not how you want to go into a stealth mission.
“How many rounds are in each of your magazines?” he asks me.
“Ten. Why?”
“If you have to shoot your weapon, I want you to count the shots you ta
ke and stop at ten. Never fire your weapon with an empty magazine in place.”
“Why?”
“Because a Blood will hear that clicking sound and he’ll know he’s got thirty seconds until you can reload, and he’s sure as hell going to use those thirty seconds to kill you.”
I breathe out, feeling a tad woozy. “Okay. Count my shots.”
As we crawl Luke keeps talking and my mind latches onto his words. “Remember there are two types of fire. The first is when you have a target. You take your aim carefully and don’t waste your bullets. The second kind of fire is to create cover, firing at any oncoming attack as hard and as fast as you can so that the opposition will be forced to take cover. I’ll then use those moments to move positions, so I’ll be out in the open and relying on you to keep heavy fire engaged, and vice versa if you need to move.”
“Target and cover,” I repeat. He told me all of this on the train but I’m more than happy to hear it again.
“The most important thing is to always remain calm and focused,” he adds. “So the second you feel your breathing or heart rate speed up, you immediately stop and take very deep, slow breaths until you feel clarity return. You don’t do shit if you’re panicked. Nothing, Josi. Got it?”
“Yes.”
We arrive at the vent. Through it I can see the elevator doors. There’s no one in the corridor, but we sit quietly and survey the area for a while.
“It’s not enough recon,” Luke mutters suddenly. “I feel blind.”
“How much would you normally do on a mission like this?”
“Weeks. I’d have people placed inside to tell me the movements and security protocols, I’d know every member of staff and what shifts they work, the escalator timing mechanisms and weights, and I’d have access to their radio frequencies.”
“God.”
He shakes his head. Watching his face and the tense angle of his jaw is not helping me to feel confident. I take three deep breaths.
Luke unscrews the vents and swings out into the hallway. As I follow clumsily, he’s already prying open the lift doors. They edge apart, spring-loaded to move more easily after the initial resistance.
Using his flashlight to peer up and down the shaft, he spots the elevator below us. It doesn’t move without prints and retinal scans. We have to wait until it’s above us before we can abseil down the shaft, which is a problem.
Melancholy: Book Two of The Cure (Omnibus Edition) Page 15