“You are helping. Keep a close eye on the rooftops. There’s a guy with a ponytail up there. Only run after he has left, and then wait for him to come around again. He takes about forty seconds to complete a turn. So, don’t move for any longer than half that.”
Emin reached out and squeezed his hand. “Good luck.”
Guy slapped him on the back. Jimmy hugged his leg. Tommy watched his team dart across the road, following his orders to the letter. They were a good bunch. There probably won’t many others like them in the whole world. Not yet, anyway.
A shiver shook him to the core. It was worth stopping the virus for that reason alone. Nobody else needed to go through what they had, what their loved ones had endured.
He girded his spirit and rounded the corner. He located the shop’s entrance and entered.
* * *
Tommy crept amongst the stacked boxes that lined the hardware store’s back rooms. Angus would have put the key somewhere.
But where?
Tommy had taken to carrying it with him at all times. Would Angus do the same?
Footsteps. They approached from the hallway adjoining the store’s front.
Tommy hopped behind a tall tower of unsanded MDF sheets and crouched as low as he could.
A figure tore open a cardboard box with stenciled letters on the side. It screeched against its Styrofoam prison as she drew something out.
Tommy went up onto his tiptoes to peer over the wood stack.
The woman was a couple of years older than him, maybe twenty-eight, twenty-nine, built, with the legs of a gazelle. Shame her face didn’t meet the same caliber. She looked too much like her old man to be considered pretty.
She hefted the item she’d unboxed and slapped something into its base. She raised the power drill and squeezed the trigger. The rattling screech filled the small space and set Tommy’s teeth on edge.
The woman unfolded the cardboard box and dumped it on a pile beside the door. Then she returned to the storefront.
Tommy eased around the leaning tower of MDF and trailed the woman’s footsteps. She met someone there. They spoke but he couldn’t make out their words. He crept closer and passed a set of stairs built at an Everest-like angle. You’d need specialist equipment to scale that thing.
The power drill hissed with malicious intent, grinding a hole in a thin block of wood.
Tommy met the doorway and put his ear to it.
“Shouldn’t we make it bigger?” the woman said. “That way, they’ll see it from farther away and won’t come close.”
“Ah, but we want them to come close.” Angus spoke with a gentle hiss behind his teeth, the ‘s’ clinging on for dear life. “If we make it too big, they won’t get close enough for us to take action. They’ll end up turning tail.”
“Don’t we want them to leave us alone? We don’t want to hurt them, do we?”
Angus drilled another hole. “We should do whatever keeps us safest. Let’s not try to worry about anyone else too much, shall we?”
Tommy leaned forward an inch, just enough to peer around the doorframe with the curve of his eyeball. The woman leaned against a broad breadth of MDF, pinning it down for her father. It was a sign, the words hastily penciled in to be finished off and painted later:
ZOMBIES HERE. STAY AWAY.
The wiry hair on Angus’s narrow chest bulged from his unbuttoned shirt. Tommy grimaced. For God’s sake, leave something to the imagination, fella. Out of necessity, Tommy leaned forward again. He spied no heavy weight beneath his shirt, no interlocking chain links that clutched the colonel’s key. Angus didn’t have it on him. He’d already eyeballed the woman. She didn’t have it either.
Shit.
Tommy slinked back into the shadows. If anyone had his key, it ought to have been Angus. Didn’t he realize how important the key was? It allowed them to get into the secret base at Houston. It wasn’t merely a key to a lock but the answer to their salvation—
Except, of course, Angus didn’t know its value. An ornate key without a lock was worthless. Angus didn’t strike Tommy as the kind of man who kept things around because they look pretty—even his daughter didn’t serve that purpose. So of course, he wouldn’t wear it.
He would dump it the first safe place he came to.
Tommy retraced his steps to the steep staircase that fed onto the second floor. If the key was anywhere, surely it would be upstairs where they lived?
He placed his hand on the handrail and pulled himself up. He hoped the guys were having a better time of hunting than he was.
* * *
Tommy took the steps sideways. They were so narrow they fit only the balls of his feet. He timed his footsteps with Angus’s drilling as best he could, pausing each time the boards squeaked beneath him during a quiet lull.
Next, Angus took to hammering. Tommy had no problem scaling the stairs after that. At the top, a single corridor unfurled, feeding onto two water-damaged doors on either side.
Tommy pushed the first door open. A humble bedroom with a single bed, washbasin and fusty hand towel that hadn’t been replaced in weeks, maybe months. Tommy scanned the tabletops but saw no sign of his beloved key. He turned to leave and search another room when he froze.
Footsteps. Growing louder. Someone climbed the stairs.
Tommy stepped back in the room and considered his options. Fight or flight? He was loath to involve anyone else in his team’s escape. So far, no warning wail of escaped felons had gone up, no shouting in the streets. They were still operating under the cover of darkness and Tommy had no intention of shedding it.
He crouched behind the chipped chest of drawers, his back inches from the curled chintz wallpaper in the corner.
Exposed. But only if she sees me.
The footsteps stopped outside the door and a dainty hand pressed the door open with deliberate slowness. The hinges squeaked. The hallway light stretched the woman’s legs to a ludicrous length, splashing her shadow across the bed opposite.
Tommy coiled his legs underneath him and pressed his heel into the wall. If she saw him, he wouldn’t have long to react. He held his empty hands tucked into his chest.
She crossed to the poorly whitewashed wardrobe and opened it. She rooted around for something.
Tommy focused on not moving a muscle. If he did, the woman’s peripheries would pick up on him for sure.
The woman straightened, holding a plain black dress with lace around the hem. A garment made for somber events. She picked up a pair of scissors from the desk and set about cutting it in half. She scooped up the two floating halves of the dress and shut the wardrobe door. She headed for the exit.
A huge weight lifted off Tommy’s shoulders. That was close. Too close. His instincts remained on high alert. Why?
Footsteps. There weren’t any.
Oh.
The woman hadn’t moved away. She still stood in the doorway.
A draft from the split skirting board at Tommy’s feet whispered at a clutch of cheap lace on the threadbare carpet. The stuff waved at Tommy.
And the woman had seen it.
She stepped back into the room and bent down to retrieve it.
Tommy shut his eyes. She would see him for sure. The muscles in his legs coiled tighter.
The woman scooped up the miscreant black lace. She felt it between her fingertips, a distant smile curling her lips at some distant memory. Her ice-clue eyes flicked up. The smile faltered. A flash of confusion before angry realization set in.
Bang bang bang bang bang. The hammer worked hard downstairs, a replacement for the non-existent racing beat in Tommy’s chest.
The woman’s shock shifted as she filled her lungs with treacherous oxygen to blast Tommy’s hopes at ever discovering that damn key.
Tommy released his legs and sprang forward. His hands extended, reaching up to clasp the woman’s mouth shut and curb the opening note of his impending doom.
Quick as a whip, she turned her head to one side to shake his h
and free.
Tommy’s stomach lurched with fear. Lose his grip and Angus would come barreling up the stairs. He moved with the woman, his forward momentum taking them both toward the splintered floorboards.
The woman twisted in mid-air, demonstrating a level of acrobatics he never thought she’d possess.
They took the impact together; forcing the air from both their lungs. She wheezed; he didn’t. Tommy hefted the woman on top of himself, wrapping his arms about her torso, his legs intertwining with hers.
The legs Tommy had admired just a few short minutes ago flailed against his restraint. Her high-heeled boots smacked the floor and made more noise than Tommy liked. He tightened his grip and rolled her onto her side.
The woman tugged a knee free from Tommy’s grip and pressed it to the floor, blocking any further movement.
Tommy tucked his knee behind hers and placed all his body weight on top of her. The floor was his ally. He brought his hand out from around her head and pressed her face into the carpet. He pinned her left arm beneath their mutual weight and locked her other arm in place.
The woman wriggled like a worm on a hook. She was defeated—not that you’d know it with the way she struggled. Surrender wasn’t in her dictionary. She puffed and panted, breath sawing through his fingers.
Tommy whispered in her ear. “I’m not going to hurt you. I only want my key. Then I’ll go.”
The woman wouldn’t believe him. Why would she? A stranger had crept into her house and attacked her. To his surprise, her body relaxed. Still, she remained on edge, prepared to lash out if he betrayed his promise.
Tommy sighed with relief. She would tell him where the key was and he would tie her up. Then he’d leave and her father would later discover her upstairs. All would be right with the world.
Except, Tommy realized, he hadn’t heard the hypnotic whine of a power drill or the thud of a hammer’s empty heartbeat since they’d begun their little wrestling match.
Creak.
A floorboard in the hallway groaned with pained displeasure.
The woman tensed beneath him. She’d heard it too. She’d likely heard a similar lack of sound while they’d performed their clean version of the Karma Sutra.
That was why she relaxed earlier. Not because of his heartfelt promise, but because she knew the cavalry were on their way.
They were standing right outside the door.
30.
SAM
An armed guard stood on either side of the door, facing forward. They might have been trained for the queen’s guard. How was she meant to get inside that room with those guards on duty?
Another guard approached—one she had never seen before. He ran a gold bedecked hand through his thick blond hair. “At ease, boys.”
The guards might have lowered their weapons but they were anything but at ease. Their muscles were tight, ready to attack at a moment’s notice.
Blond knocked on the door.
The door hissed open. The Architect wore a plain grey jacket and a yellow woolen scarf. Wherever he was heading, it must be chillier than this place. The chain around his neck rattled against the key.
“Sir.” Blond saluted. “We have quelled the resistance. No prisoners escaped.”
“Good. Ensure the prisoners are adequately punished. Do not kill them. We still require their research. In the meantime, I suggest you plug the holes in our defenses to ensure this doesn’t happen again. If it does, I’ll hold you personally responsible. Do I make myself clear?”
Despite his years of experience in the field, no doubt responsible for issuing commands to take countless others’ lives, Sam saw a man with utter terror in his heart.
Blond nodded, saluted. “Yes, sir. Perfectly clear.”
“Good. I wish to travel to the elevator.”
“May I suggest we wait until the alarm has been extinguished and the prisoners have been returned to their cells?”
The Architect’s tone was calm and relaxed but edged with ice. “The escape is over. There is no longer any threat. Besides, I have an important appointment to keep.”
Blond saluted once more. “Yes, sir.”
“We leave in one minute.”
The door slid shut and Blond was left alone with the two guards. “You will serve as his escort. We’ll be taking the long way round. I hope I don’t need to tell you boys the ramifications of what’ll happen if we fail to get him there in one piece?”
That same mask of unmitigated terror. The two guards nodded.
Do you think you’re the only one here against their will?
The pieces fit and the reasoning was clear. The guards didn’t want to be there any more than the researchers did. The Architect threatened them with something to keep them here. They were all of them, every man and woman, a prisoner.
* * *
Sam had two advantages.
First, the Architect and his armed entourage didn’t know she was out of her room. At least, not yet they didn’t. Second, they would be taking the “long way round” which would buy her a little time. It was time she desperately needed considering she didn’t know this place from Adam. She’d have to make a direct line to the research center. . . A direct line through the heart of the compound, through dangers the Architect and his entourage were vying to avoid.
But if she wanted any hope of arriving before they did, she had to act fast. She ran back the way she’d come, ensuring to take a wide bypass to avoid the two bodies she’d left in her wake.
The alarm cut off halfway through its shrill cry, the flashing lights acting in harmony. Silence can seem deafening after cacophonous shrieks. The place would soon be locked down again. Then they would check through the video footage and discover her, still missing. She would be easy to find after that.
Time was running out and the situation was turning against her. Her enemies were drilling down and cutting off the exits. But there was only one she cared about.
She sprinted so fast down one long straight that she smacked into the wall when she tried to make a turn. She shoved off it and continued at her frantic pace.
Finally, some luck.
She recognized the hallway she’d entered—it was the same she took each day to the research center. She spotted movement out the corner of her eye.
Acting on instinct, she dived back behind the corner she’d emerged from. Chest panting for oxygen, she forced herself to peer around the corner. She caught the rear guard of the Architect’s entourage. She was pleased to see they were taking their time.
She stepped into the corridor again and—
“No! Please! I need to see my family! I need to get out of here!”
The familiar cry of the damned. Another pair of guards rounded up the last of the escapees.
Sam rolled her eyes. What is this? Rush hour?
This researcher clung onto the doorway with dogged determination. No matter how hard the guards pulled at his legs, the researcher simply would not let go. His legs rose a yard off the floor and still, he would not relinquish his hold. His grip remained strong. And when he raised his head, his eyes alighted on Sam, peeking from around the corner. His eyes broadened and an enormous grin took up his entire face. The tears that had been brimming on the cusp of his eyelids found the fortitude to spill over the side and down his cheeks.
It was Lester. The research team leader.
The one person Sam would never have suspected wanted to escape this place. He seemed so at peace with his station.
His eyes bulged and his mouth formed the opening salvo to the scream he’d cry to alert the guards of her location.
Sam shook her head. Please, don’t.
The word he formed burst into raucous laughter. He lost his grip and hit the floor with a meaty slap. His skin screeched skidding tones as the guards worked up momentum to drag him back to his cell. Or worse. Despite it all, the man whooped for joy.
Somewhere, a door slammed shut and his screams died.
Samantha peeled down th
e long corridor, pausing at each corner section to check for any more last-minute escapees.
The entrance to the research center loomed large. She extracted Greg’s makeshift key card from her pocket. She picked the lint off the corners and moved to wave it across the terminal.
But how could she know the Architect and his men hadn’t reached there yet? How could she know they weren’t already inside, waiting for her?
There was only one way to find out.
She wiped her sweaty palms across the stained white of her prison uniform bottoms and swiped the key card over the terminal.
The light blinked and the door slid open.
* * *
Sam released the breath she’d been holding. Her heart thumped in her throat.
The terminal screens sat silent and empty. Standby lights blinked on undead machine fronts. Lacking purpose when they ought to have been used to discover new insights and unlock the natural world’s secrets. She couldn’t worry about that now.
But the Architect and his guards would arrive within moments.
She crossed the main floor and hurried up the steps. The elevator likewise stood empty, doors ajar. She thought the Architect liked to leave it empty to tease the researchers at how close escape was. She’d escaped her cell, located the Architect, and now stood before the device that would usher her away from here. And yet, was her situation any better than it was the previous night? Despite the odds, she had made it. . . but now she had no idea what she was meant to do.
She didn’t have the key. She couldn’t activate it.
She stood in the middle of the elevator floor; footsteps thunderous on the metal grating. It was no good. The Architect would see her for sure. She needed to hide, to conceal herself in plain sight.
The trolley. It was used by the scientists to ferry trays of equipment from one part of the facility to another. She dragged it into the elevator. She’d pile items on top of it. Then, she could hide behind it. But what would she pile? No matter what she used, she’d be visible, and was the Architect and his men supposed to not notice a fully-laden trolley? They would remove it. Then what was she supposed to do?
Death Squad (Book 3): Zombie Nation Page 18