Dead and Damaged (The Endangered Series Book 2)

by S. L. Eaves

  “Ideally, yes, but there’s so many unknown factors. Maybe we should send two or three in through the air duct and have the rest work on hacking their camera feeds?”

  “We spent the better part of the week trying to get into their system; the couple times we did we were detected and booted within minutes. They took measures to protect their servers and it’s too great of a risk. We discussed this at the last meeting.”

  “I just don’t like going in blind,” I say, my voice almost a whisper, knowing it’s a losing battle.

  “We’re prepared for whatever we find.” Owen points to the black box sitting on the corner desk. “We’ll use their technology against them. And with all six of us, that’s a lot of fire power if we do encounter trouble.” Owen’s tone is growing more insistent by the minute.

  “Yeah,” Tyler agrees, “I don’t like the idea of hacking their system and alerting them while we’re in there; too great a risk. We have resources to get in and out clean. I’m confident we can complete our objective.”

  Tyler, always the alpha male cheerleader. Every group dynamic has one.

  “Okay. Well, you five are more experienced at this sort of thing than I am, so I call for a vote. Whatever you recommend, that’s what we’ll do.” I glance around. “All for the air duct infiltration plan?”

  Five hands go up.

  “That settles it. Ready your equipment; we’ll leave in a half hour.”

  ***

  When we get within five miles we pull our snowmobiles over to a patch of cypress trees and kill the engines. You would think we rehearsed this, and in some ways we have, but I am more inclined to attribute our synchronized movements to our forced bonding in close living quarters. We’d been heading out in shifts to survey the compound for days, this excursion being the first time all six of us are together.

  We cover the rest of the ground on foot. I could easily lap them, but I stay by Tyler’s side as he leads the way through the frozen tundra. Winter is hitting the region full force and, while the long nights that accompany the winter solstice work to my advantage and the frosty temperature bothers me much less than my human comrades, I do not much care for the ice-filled wind gusts that strike our faces for hours on end as we trudge across the Yukon terrain.

  I envision polar bears shaking their heads in pity at us as we pass.

  In the darkness, I am the first to spot the faint glow from the compound. At first glance someone who happened upon this place would wonder what a school was doing out in the middle of nowhere, hiding from humanity. At least that was my initial impression. A featureless tan stucco construct; one that looks inviting enough that parents are willing to trust it with their kids for eight hours a day, but threatening enough to instill obedience.

  “It looks like a prison,” Evan remarks as we gather on an embankment near the northeast side.

  “It’s what I imagine a high school in some country bumpkin town with more cows than people would look like.”

  Tyler laughs, “It does kind of look like where I went to grade school. You know, minus the armed guards and explosives.”

  “I’m surprised this place isn’t being used as a jail. I guess the cost of keeping prisoners alive out here isn’t worth the trouble.” Owen settles in behind us with his thermal scope in hand.

  “Abrams said it was a former military base. Been off the grid since it was decommissioned about a decade ago,” Evan adds as he begins to survey the ground with night vision binoculars. “Whoever is in there masquerading as a PMC knows that, though; I think we are going to find the militia inside isn’t just civilians. I bet there’s some former military taking up their cause. These guards are trained soldiers. Remember that.”

  “They clearly know what they are doing,” Derrick adds as he and Rob join us, dropping duffle bags at our feet. “Thing is, so do we.”

  Tyler stands and begins to sort through the equipment.

  “Everyone suit up. We want to be prepared for anything in there.”

  Entering the air duct proves even easier than expected.

  Once the guard passes, I approach with heavy footsteps. I have a little handheld gadget that serves as a modern-day metal detector, but I’m not too confident in its ability to keep me from stepping on one of their devices. We have a fairly good idea where they are placed from watching the guard’s patrolling habits, but there is still a hundred yards or so that requires crossing. At least half of which I could clear with a single leap. But alas, I am trying to be a team player. So I move quickly, but keep to the ground so my team can follow the trail I carve out.

  I let out a sigh of relief when I reach the building unscathed. There is one camera in range. It stands between us and the vent, and since it’s pointing in the vent’s direction, it’ll need to be dealt with if we want to enter undetected.

  We estimate about twenty minutes before another guard passes. It took me four of those minutes to reach the compound walls. It takes me another minute to black out the camera. Given the hundreds of cameras in the place, one pointing into the dead of night won’t be missed right away; it’ll just look like its night vision failed.

  I give the all clear and the others move quickly, using my footsteps as a guide. Derrick is the last to cross and when he gets close to the compound he stops to cover our tracks. We’ll need them to guide us out, but a cluster crossing the guard’s paths will no doubt raise eyebrows. It’s not the most tactical way to infiltrate a building, but we figure the last thing they’d expect is for a group of people to just walk right on over.

  Our backs pressed against the cold cement wall, I snap open the hatch and silently climb into the two-by-two-foot opening. When I reach the first grate I peer down into what we had hoped would be a supply room. No such luck. It’s a small lab. I raise two fingers and point below us. Two men in white lab coats are hard at work in the middle of the night. That is unfortunate. I pull the tranquilizer gun from my shoulder holster. The lab techs might have information we need. I take one quick look over my shoulder at Tyler. He nods.

  The grate hits the linoleum floor with a loud metallic clang.

  The scientists spin from their work with a jolt as I fire tranqs into them. They hit the ground the same time my feet do.

  I scan the room, spot two cameras, and black them both out with the same spray I used on the one outside. To anyone paying attention nothing will alert them that cameras are down, but it won’t take long to realize they’ve gone dark. The others descend one by one into the room.

  Evan goes for the computer at the far end and Tyler moves to secure the door. The top half of the door holds the only window, which looks out into an empty hallway. I point to the microchips the scientists were working on and motion for Rob to collect them.

  “Which way from here?” I ask Tyler.

  “We want to inch our way to the southeast corner; there is a generator there. We suspect it’s where their server room is housed as well.”

  Owen joins us by the door. He checks to make sure the black box is secured to his utility belt. Before we left our bunker, the guys had drawn straws to see who would get to play the ghost. Owen is the lucky winner.

  “I’m going to activate it. You guys confirm it’s working; I’ll go down the hall and take out the cameras.” He takes the spray can from me. “I’m going to try to change their direction, but if they’re static I’ll black them out. Every time you see a camera move or get sprayed, you push forward and fall under it.”

  We nod. Evan joins us holding a thumb drive. “I copied the data. From what I saw it has to do with artificial intelligence.”

  “Androids?”

  “There could be a lot more than just little black boxes and sophisticated guns in here.”

  “Only one way to find out.” Owen clicks on the box. It emits a surge and suddenly he disappears. We step back and stare for a moment. Up close you can see small glimmers of light reflecting from the surface, but it’s impressive nonetheless.

  “You’re a ghost
,” Tyler confirms.

  Owen opens the door and after a moment we file into the hallway, watching for him to give the signal.

  “Stay low, there are cameras everywhere,” I instruct.

  We hug the wall and wait for the camera to move.

  Owen moves methodically down the hall, flipping the cameras up to the ceiling as he goes.

  We advance in the same fashion. We are about halfway down and so far no signs of life. This hallway serves as a connector between the north and south ends of the compound, which works to our advantage because we don’t have to pass by multiple labs or any inhabited rooms. But it also leaves us little room to run.

  I freeze before we get to the nearest cleared camera and raise my hand.

  Tyler is so close I can feel his breath on my neck.

  “What is it?”

  “Owen!” I call in a hushed whisper. I had been able to see his silhouette through the shield when he moved, but now I can’t spot him.

  No response from Owen. Something’s wrong.

  “I sense multiple humans nearby,” I whisper. “I hear footsteps. Multiple.”

  We draw our weapons, then silence. But I can feel a presence. I focus my gaze, trying to concentrate. There is a faint outline of an invisible wall ahead.

  Shit!

  As if materializing out of nowhere, suddenly a line of heavily armed guards appears from the far end of the hallway. They open fire.

  They saw us coming. And I didn’t see them in time. They used a black box to create the illusion of an empty hallway to trap us. And it worked.

  The exact type of trap I was sent to prevent us from falling into.

  Flesh and bone splatters my clothes as Tyler’s face is blown off right next to me. I can taste his blood in my mouth.

  We instinctively retreat to the lab. To the right of the lab is another hallway heading west, lined with doors. If we can get to those rooms we might have a chance to take cover and break up their surge.

  But there are already men in tactical gear filing into that hallway to greet us. Evan gets hit on his shoulder. I spring through the haze of gunfire to fend off his attacker, feeling multiple bullets graze my skin as I land on the guard, pierce his throat with my stiletto, then move to the next. Evan has recovered and is hovering over Rob who appears to have taken at least one to the leg. I slam my body against the guard standing between us and the lab. He hits the wall and I fire several shots into his throat. It is one of the few body parts not covered in protective gear. And it happens to be a favorite target of mine.

  My team is wearing vests, but they aren’t offering much protection in close quarters. Especially against the high-powered rifles these guards are equipped with.

  Using a guard I just killed as a shield I motion for Derrick to fall in behind me. He scrambles into the lab and I lunge forward to grab Evan, who is firing away with his good arm. Together we attempt to pull Rob into the lab. We succeed in making it inside, but not before Rob takes another shot in the leg. I apply pressure, but it must’ve struck a major artery because he’s bleeding out fast.

  “There are too many of them.” Derrick’s typically calm, cool exterior has completely shattered. His hand trembles as he reloads.

  “They were ready for us; we must’ve missed something in our recon,” Evan stammers.

  I flip over a lab table and prop it up to barricade the door as bullets decorate it.

  “Either that or someone tipped them off.”

  Derrick’s face hardens at that notion. I go to grab another table as bullets tear into the room. Evan presses his bad shoulder against the makeshift barricade and returns fire out the door until he suddenly drops his gun, cursing as blood spurts from his hand.

  “Fuckers shot off my finger.”

  I look down at Rob; he lies motionless in a pool of blood. His eyes have closed and I can barely hear a heartbeat. He’s minutes from death. We’re not going to be able to save him. I move to join Evan at the door, picking up his gun as I fall in beside him. I unload it at the nearest guard.

  For a moment the gunfire has ceased and I think maybe there is something in here too valuable to risk shooting.

  I am wrong.

  “Get down; find better cover,” I yell as bullet holes riddle our makeshift barricade.

  When Evan doesn’t move I point to the other lab tables, indicating for him to grab one and take cover. Instead he slumps over. He isn’t going into shock, as I thought. A bullet has penetrated the wall and struck him in the head.

  I scramble to the table as Derrick, who’s pinned down in the corner, provides cover fire. I flip it over and begin to slide it towards him. He doesn’t wait for me to reach him. A bullet hits his vest and panic sets in.

  Both guns in my possession are out of ammo and I’m unable to give Derrick any protection as he bolts to the table amidst the eruption of automatic weapons we’re no match for. I’m still holding my hand in protest, gesturing for him to hold his position, as he falls to the ground inches from where I’m kneeling. I don’t need to look over to see him coughing up blood, I can smell it. But I risk a look anyways. He’d taken one through the neck, just above his vest.

  Fuck.

  A blast sends the table that had been propped against the door careening backwards. I reluctantly pull Derrick’s body close so his nine-millimeter, still gripped in his hand, is within reach.

  Three men enter the lab and fan out. They are all human and I know I’m faster, which makes crouching behind a table no longer an option. If I keep moving, they won’t be able to get a clear shot. We dance around the room exchanging gunfire. I am not having much luck piercing their SWAT gear with the handgun, it’s really just prolonging the inevitable, so I toss it and cross the room towards the nearest guard. He lands a couple shots into my arm before I break his neck.

  I pick up his assault rifle—much better—and jump to clear the last remaining upright table. A bullet catches my side midair and I hit the table, smashing test tubes and beakers in the act. I flip off the table and land on top of a guard. He is on his back pointing a snub-nose shotgun right at my gut as I fall. The bullet rips apart my insides and I roll to the ground. Then something hard and blunt connects with my head and everything goes black.

  Chapter 4

  Drip…Drip…Drip.

  I regain consciousness, but do not immediately open my eyes. Lying on my back, I remain still, sniffing the air and waiting for my memory to return. The pain is sharp and constant. It’s all I can register at first, forcing me to wait for my brain to process through the blinding fog it’s creating.

  The cement slab I’m splayed out on is cold and damp under my skin. I feel its rough edges. The air smells of blood. My blood.

  Or another vampire’s.

  But I’m pretty sure it’s mine. Especially given the searing pain in my abdomen.

  And the dripping sound below me.

  It’s all I can hear.

  Slowly, I peel my eyes open. The windowless room is lit by one dusty, low-watt bulb hanging from the ceiling by a wire. An afterthought. Three walls of concrete cinder blocks offer a glimpse at my fate, foreboding and decrepit. A line of vertical bars extends the length of the fourth side, effectively conveying its status as a prison cell. I arch my head up cautiously, noting the surveillance camera pointing into the cell.

  My side of the bars has an unfinished basement meets medieval dungeon vibe going for it. The other side is quite the opposite. A clean, brightly lit hallway with touchpads and cameras stares back at me through the bars. No light bulbs on strings, that’s for sure.

  The compound. I am still inside the compound in some sort of holding cell. I try to push through the throbbing in my skull to recall the blueprints, figure out just exactly where I am, and determine the nearest exit. That’s when I remember.

  The memories come rushing in. The excruciating imagery makes me want to scream. I feel myself wince at their return. I led them into an ambush. It was my fault. I am just as guilty as the men who p
ulled the trigger. And Tyler…I cared about him when I didn’t think I could. More importantly perhaps, I respected and admired him. Now all I see when I close my eyes is a bullet ripping his face apart.

  The helplessness I feel at that moment tears me to shreds, figuratively and literally. I sit up on the blood-soaked cement block that serves as some sort of prison bed. The cement has turned a deep purple color and excess blood drips off its sides.

  They were ready for us. Owen. The second name to come to mind was the last name I thought of before losing consciousness.

  Where had he disappeared to during the fight? Did he get killed or was he a traitor? Did the cameras tip them off? Did they spot our approach? Or did someone tell them?

  If it was the last option, it had to be either Owen or Abrams. If I get out of here, they are going to be paid a visit.

  If I get out of here…They could have killed me. They should have killed me. But they didn’t.

  Why didn’t they?

  I look from my partially healed wound to the camera pointing in my general vicinity.

  Footsteps approach. Stiletto heels. And boots, two pairs of boots. I see them walking down the hall before they are in range of my cellblock. Now I have a vision. Lot of good it will do me.

  My cell is in a corner, directly facing one corridor. I can’t see down the adjacent hallway, but it’s really not a top priority at the moment. Aware of my weakened state, I am preserving every ounce of energy. The vision turns into reality as the woman and her two bodyguards approach the cell.

  The woman sports a mischievous smile and short, spiky blonde hair. Her commandos are twice as wide and walk as though they forgot to remove the hangers from their shirts. Both brandish high-powered rifles. I doubt they are ever without a weapon of some sort.

  Of the three, she is clearly the most lethal.

  “Well well, Lori, good to see you up. Nice of you to drop in on us. I hope you found the welcome party sufficient.”