Viable Threat

by Julie Rowe

  “You think the world doesn’t know you’re here, fuckers?” DS’s voice echoed through the hallways. “Bus drivers are a gossipy bunch, and we see everything.”

  “So, why is it just you, old man?” That was Tall’s voice. It matched perfectly to the voice of the asshole who’d shot River three times just for fun.

  “I took little fuckers like you and turned them into men for over thirty-five years,” DS said, with a dark chuckle. “I don’t need anyone else to help.”

  “You bit off way more than you can chew,” Tall shot back. “We’re armed and don’t take orders from no government pussy.”

  “So far, all you’ve done is piss on the situation, boy. It takes a hero to shit on the ceiling.” The DS laughed again, and it sent a shiver up River’s spine. That old man had evil down to an art form. “That’s all that’s going to be left of you by the time I’m done. Shit. On. The. Ceiling.”

  River almost started laughing himself, but worry for Ava was building. He hadn’t heard her voice yet, and that wasn’t like her.

  Had they gagged her?

  Had they hurt her or killed her already?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  12:21 p.m.

  Ava shook with the desire to punch the idiot standing in front of her with a gun pointed at her head. He was another college student who looked like he’d been on a weekend bender. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, and he needed a haircut and a shower.

  He smirked at what the man shouting at the group of student terrorists said. Something about all of them being nothing but shit. Shit on the ceiling.

  She didn’t think it was particularly funny, since the man yelling was probably right. They were going to end up as nothing more than shit on the ceiling. She sat on a crate holding a large explosive device. Boots had taken gleeful pleasure in showing it to her as soon as they walked into the room where all of his stupid buddies were waiting. Then he’d told her she was going to be famous.

  For getting shot, then blown up.

  They were going to video it all, stream it live over the internet on every social media venue there was.

  And they would get what they wanted. They knew what the government and military were doing. What the police, FBI, Homeland Security, and even the CDC were doing. The American government would cow to their demands, pull their military out of places it didn’t belong.

  They were going to change the world.

  They were so dumb.

  “Noah, Ryan,” Boots said. “Kill him.”

  “The old guy?” one of the two men asked. Ava wasn’t sure which was Noah and which was Ryan.

  “No, the ventriloquist using him as a dummy,” Boots said with a sneer. “Of course the old guy.”

  The two students glanced at each other, shrugged, and went to the door. The one in front looked outside, in both directions, then proceeded out with the second man right behind him.

  For about ten seconds, there was only silence.

  A soft groan floated down the hallway and into the room, followed by an aborted yell. No shots fired. Silence for another three seconds.

  “Report,” Boots shouted.

  “Your little boys are too busy relearning how to breathe, puke.” There was a note of sarcastic glee in that old voice that made Ava want to grin. She managed to keep it to herself. Just barely. “Maybe you should send three next time, eh?”

  The remaining people in the room, six, including Boots, murmured, shuffled their feet, and backed away from the door.

  Boots spun to glare at everyone in the room, but when his gaze met hers, he stopped.

  Ava could see her own death in that gaze. If she said something, he’d kill her. If she said nothing, he’d kill her anyway.

  Fuck it.

  Today was a write off anyway.

  She sighed and said in a bored tone, “So much for your revolution.”

  Boots exploded into movement, striding up to her and putting the muzzle of his gun against her chest.

  “Go ahead,” she said, in that same even voice. “Kill me. It’s not like you haven’t promised to kill me already.” She leaned into his weapon. “Like you plan on killing every person in this room.”

  Now the stares of his little soldiers became alarmed.

  “Sam?” one of them asked.

  “She’s a puppet of the government and full of shit.”

  She studied Boots’s profile, noting the sweat beading on his face. “Did you infect them all, too?”

  His head jerked in her direction.

  “When did you infect them?” she asked. “It’s an incredibly fast killer in some people. Slower in others.” She looked at a couple of the other student terrorists. “Do they even know?”

  Boots flashed his teeth at her and raised his weapon. “Time to die, bitch.”

  “You first, asshole.” The words were formed by a voice that had a wealth of experience in it. And it sounded like the man who spoke them was in the room.

  By the time Boots and his friends got to the door, that man, and his insulting cackle, were down the hall, around the corner, and out of reach of the bullets they sent after him. Sam kept going, and two of his buddies followed, yelling obscenities as they ran and fired.

  Ava hoped off the crate, but the remaining terrorists turned their weapons on her. She made herself stop, raise her hands, and meet the gaze of the young people staring at her. “I don’t want to die. Do you?”

  “Don’t move,” one young man said to her.

  “On your knees, bitch,” yelled another.

  Gunshots echoed through the building, sounding close and far away at the same time. Was she hearing things?

  The terrorists inside the room with her jumped. A couple of them ran to the door to peer out of it. The last one yelled at them to get out of the line of fire, that they were being attacked by the Army. Maybe they should blow the bomb up?

  That was talk she didn’t want to hear.

  “You sure do panic easily,” Ava said into the chaos. “Is that all it takes to rattle you? A retired drill sergeant?”

  One of the young men pointed his rifle at her. “Shut up!”

  “Help me,” someone yelled from outside the door.

  There was a flurry of movement, and someone came in with Boots draped over his shoulder. Blood covered Boots’s left arm, and his rifle hung forgotten and dangling from his right shoulder. His people fluttered around him, squawking, reminding her of a flock of frightened chickens.

  “Where is the other guy who went with you?” Ava asked.

  Boots ignored her, but one of the guys who’d stayed behind glanced out the doorway. “Jose. What happened to him?”

  “That old geezer killed him,” Boots said, wincing as the guy helping him lowered him to the floor.

  “He’s dead?” the same kid asked.

  “Yes, Dan,” Boots yelled. “He’s dead. That fucking ancient piece of shit shot Jose in the head.”

  Dan looked as if he was going to cry.

  “Your little friend isn’t dead.” The time-roughened voice bounced off the walls of the hallway and into the room, giving it an oddly discordant quality.

  “I saw you shoot him in the head,” Boots yelled back.

  “You’re blind as well as stupid, puke. One of your shots punched a hole in the wall, and a piece of drywall cut his head. I only shot him in the leg a little.”

  Ava had to smother a laugh. A little?

  “You’re not going to stop us, old man,” Boots yelled. “We’re doing what’s best for the American people, saving them from the brutal excesses of a government who doesn’t care about anything but money and power.”

  The old guy’s laugh sounded delighted. “I’d try to understand your point of view, puke, but I don’t think I could get my head that far up my ass.”

  Ava winced and muttered, “Burn.”

  Boots’s face went scarlet with rage. “I’m going to kill you, you crazy old man.”

  “With your aim?” The old man’s guffaw wa
s loud and insulting. “Come and get me, puke, and don’t send someone else to do your dirty work.”

  “You can’t go, Sam,” one of the guys hissed in a higher voice than Ava expected.

  She took a closer look and realized this guy was a girl. Short hair with an athletic build, she stared at Boots as if he were some kind of celebrity.

  “You’re injured, and we need you to…” She glanced at Ava before continuing in a softer voice, “keep to the schedule.”

  Schedule? How much more mayhem did they have planned? Was there more than the bomb in the crate behind her?

  Come to think of it, why would they want to blow up a bomb in a deserted lab in an empty building on the university campus?

  “I’ll go,” said the guy who’d brought Boots back. “I’m not scared of an old man.”

  “For the love of fuck,” the old man yelled. “What in fuck-fuck land are you fuckers doing? Isn’t anyone interested in getting their balls handed to them in a tuna can? I’m getting bored.”

  “I’m going,” the kid said, taking a couple of steps toward.

  “Brian.” Boots stopped him with one word. “Go around. Shoot him in the back.”

  Ava swallowed a bitter mouthful of disgust. She couldn’t let this stand.

  “Jess,” Sam said to the girl. “If that bitch tries to say anything, shoot her.”

  Jess marched over and pointed an overly large handgun in Ava’s face.

  She didn’t know what kind of gun it was, but watching Jess’s hand shake from holding it up told her it was way too much gun for the stupid twit.

  “Get the first-aid kit,” Sam moaned to no one in particular. “Someone needs to patch me up.”

  “She’s a doctor, right?” Dan asked, pointing at Ava.

  “I don’t want that Ebola-infested bitch anywhere near me.”

  Ava rolled her eyes. What a crybaby.

  “Dan,” Jess said. “Watch her while I take care of Sam.”

  Dan took a couple of steps toward her and pointed his gun at her.

  Ava didn’t bother watching him back. It was more interesting to watch Jess inexpertly try to bandage up the bleeding entry and exit wounds on Boots’s left arm. It was bleeding enough that he was going to have issues with blood loss soon. All Jess did was wrap a bandage around his arm, which wasn’t going to do much over the long-term.

  She shook her head at the job the girl was doing and gave Dan a slanted look that communicated quite clearly what she thought of it.

  Dan took another couple of steps closer so he could see what Ava saw. A large pool of blood on the floor.

  “Fuck.” He met Ava’s gaze. “What’s she doing wrong?”

  Ava tilted her head to one side. “I can talk now?”

  “Yes!”

  Ava turned her attention to Boots and Jess. “Given the amount of blood he’s losing, an artery must have been nicked or cut. You need to pack both the entry and exit wound with gauze, or he’ll just keep bleeding until he passes out. Eventually, he’ll lose enough blood to die.”

  “Why should we trust you?” Jess snarled.

  “I’m a doctor.” She shrugged. “Trust me or not, it’s up to you.”

  “You’re one of those doctors who came back infected with Ebola.”

  “I fought Ebola for three months, but I never became infected. I’ve dedicated my life to saving lives. Unlike you, I have no other agenda than that, so you can believe me or not, I don’t care.”

  “Why would you do that?” Dan asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Go to Africa. Risk getting sick.”

  She stared at him and wondered if he’d ever taken a trip to anywhere that wasn’t sanitized and groomed. “Because it was the right thing to do.”

  Jess stared at her with narrowed eyes for another moment, then began unwrapping the bandage around Boots’s arm. She packed gauze into the entry and exit wound and re-bandaged it.

  Ava gave her a slow clap. “Congratulations on learning something useful.”

  Boots stared at her with glittering eyes. “Shoot her.”

  “What?” Dan frowned at his leader. “Why? She just saved your life.”

  “She’s mocking us,” Boots said, his teeth clenched so tightly they shredded his words. “I’m sick of it.”

  “You’re feverish, hurting, and probably quite dizzy,” Ava said. “You probably think you’re having a bad day, right?” She glanced around the room at the other student terrorists. “I’ve been blown up three times already. And your fearless leader is about to blow me up again, probably along with all of you, just to prove a point.” She looked at Boots and gave him a tight smile. “By the way, what is the point? I don’t think anyone has ever actually communicated that.”

  “Our demands are clear. We want the United States and allied military out of the Middle East.”

  “Why haven’t you told the media? Or put that on social media?” She waved her hand at the world outside the door. “Because no one knows what this is all about. All the public knows is that some terrorists have released a biological weapon and blown up some people at the mall.”

  “We’re not terrorists,” Jess shouted. “We’re freedom fighters.”

  Ava snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “America thinks you’re terrorists.”

  No one said anything for two long seconds.

  “What the fuck is taking Brian so long?” Boots asked.

  “You told him to go around,” Dan pointed out. “He’s probably being careful.”

  The old man’s cackle bounced off the walls. “Hey, puke, thanks for sending the snack. He wasn’t much of a meal, though. I’m still waiting for you to man up and come get me yourself. Your friends are getting lonely.”

  “Shut up,” Jess yelled. “I’m going to kill you, you crazy old man!” She stomped toward the door.

  Dan grabbed her and forced her away.

  “What fresh fuckery is this?” the old man asked. “You got a pussy doing your dirty work for you now, puke?”

  Ava winced. That was going to set off an explosion bigger than the bomb she was leaning against.

  Yep, Jess’s face turned a mottled red. She screeched and jabbed her elbow into Dan’s stomach. The kid let go of her, coughed and bent over, clutching his midriff.

  Jess ran out of the room as Boots bellowed at her to come back.

  If there weren’t the very real danger of dying, she’d be entertained by all of this.

  She’d settle for smacking all of them until they saw reason, but that wasn’t likely to happen. The bomb inside the crate she leaned against was going to rip her and everyone here apart.

  Multiple shots rang out, serenaded by Jess’s screaming obscenities.

  “Go after her,” Boots ordered Dan. “You,” he said to Brian. “Stay with me.”

  Dan picked himself up and shuffled toward the doorway.

  All the lights went out.

  A cell phone went off. The Darth Vader ringtone.

  The room went silent.

  “Someone help me get the phone out of my pocket,” Boots said in a pain-tightened voice.

  “Oh no,” Ava breathed out. “Not again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  12:32 p.m.

  River ran harder than he’d ever run before.

  The hallway was marginally lit by red emergency lights, separated by too much space to provide sufficient light for any emergency evacuation. He was counting on the college-age terrorists finding the sudden loss of power disorienting, because the time to wait, to distract, was over.

  He’d heard the phone ring.

  Someone else, someone not here, was pulling the strings of these poor, stupid kids who thought they were fighting the good fight.

  The bomb in the lab was going to go off. Either one of students would detonate it, or it would be remotely detonated, just like the bombs at the coffee shop earlier this morning.

  He had to get Ava out of there.

  The DS had done more than his
job distracting and harassing the students. He’d also captured half of the remaining kids. River had frog-marched them out to the bus and tied them up with the first two. No time left to draw out the rest. He just hoped he’d get Ava, himself, and the DS out before it went off.

  Someone was yelling worse than a drunk sailor on leave inside the lab, screaming for help getting his cell phone out of his pocket. There was a man–size shadow in the doorway to the lab. Not Ava; she was too small.

  River deliberately plowed into the person in the doorway, knocking them back hard enough that they crashed into someone else inside the room. The two bodies hit the floor in a tangled, furious mess.

  “What the…?” someone barked, just as the phone went off again.

  “River!” Ava darted toward him from the rear of the room.

  He grabbed her hand and towed her out of the room. “It’s go time, DS,” he shouted, as they ran.

  A couple of shots followed them, showering them with drywall, but that only gave him more reason to run faster.

  They rounded a corner and another, then hit the exit door to the stairwell that he and the DS had come in. River had Ava outside two seconds later.

  She slowed, probably thinking they were safe. He didn’t agree and pulled her toward the street.

  “River,” she gasped. “Slow down. I need to…catch my…breath.”

  “We need to get to the bus.”

  “Bus? What bus?”

  He tugged her around the building, until the vehicle came into view.

  “A transit bus?” She sounded confused. “What…?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  They reached the vehicle, and he went on first, just in case any of their captives had gotten loose. Nope, they were all tied up nice and tight, just as he left them. They were rather vocal about not liking the situation, however. He ignored them.

  River sat in the driver’s seat and reached for the keys, but they were gone. Damn it, the DS had them.

  A man hurtled through the darkness toward the bus. Compact with a buzz cut of gray hair that reflected the moonlight.

  “Make a hole,” he barked as he reached the door.

  The old man got on board so fast Ava almost tripped over her own feet to make room for him.