Play at Soul's Edge

by Sophia Amador

  Yes, he had lived most of his life focused on revenge. On violence and destruction. On death.

  But now there was something more powerful in his life. Something that made a decade, even a lifetime, nothing more than a drop of water in the ocean. Something eternal. The link he had with Elisa would continue beyond life or death. And with that connection, his past life fell away like a sheet of paper consumed in a forest fire.

  There were too many people who would die if he didn’t disable the mechanism. Including Elisa.

  His fingers stilled on the entry keypad.

  He let out a long, long breath.

  Turning to the other terminal on the wall, he rapidly typed in a series of attempts to disable the security system. He set one script going, then another. His fingers did not cease to move. He tried one idea, then another, as the minutes ticked down on the LED readout.

  Nothing.

  Nothing was working.

  Then he noticed his fingertips.

  They were showing the very slightest tinge of blue.

  It was beginning. The first sign of oxygen deprivation.

  Time was running out. He couldn’t figure out how to disable the system. Adrian had always prided himself on his intellect, but now it had failed him. And from now on, his mental capacity would continually decline.

  Until the inevitable loss of consciousness, and shortly after, death.

  32

  Elisa

  ELISA RAN DOWN THE CORRIDOR. The air was fresher here, thank goodness, but it still smelled like toxic solvents. The flashing lights gave the place a surreal atmosphere, and the warning broadcasts made her stomach churn. Hopefully everyone else had gotten out. Now it was her turn.

  Turning a corner, she squinted at a sign pointing to the executive level. That had to be the best place to go if she was going to have any chance of stopping this countdown. Elisa pulled open a door and ran at top speed down the hall.

  And then she skidded to a stop, panting, as she spied a glassed-in enclosure.

  Adrian stood in the corridor, working at a terminal set in the wall.

  She had to pause for a moment just to watch him. He was beautiful when he worked, his large eyes intent, those dark brows drawn down just a little in concentration, his features flawless and calm, his full lips smooth.

  “Adrian,” she called. “What are you doing?”

  He spun, eyes widening, and for a moment his hand sketched a gesture toward the gun he wore in a holster under his jacket. Then his whole body softened and relief spread over his face.

  “Elisa.”

  The sound of her name on his lips, low and vibrating, reverberated in her bones and made all her sinews pulsate. She took one step forward, then another, her eyes locked on his. She didn’t realize they had reached out for each other until his fingers linked with hers, and a tingling brushfire of sparks wound its way up her arms and curled into her throat and along her cheeks. Her face flushed, and he pulled her closer, enfolding her in his arms and pressing her face against his chest. His heart was beating fast, much faster than usual.

  Maybe they could just stay like this forever.

  He murmured into her hair, “Elisa! At least you’re safe.”

  Well, for the next ten minutes or so.

  Slowly, reluctantly, they disengaged. His eyes went to a small keypad beside the door. “Maybe I should—” he began, and he glanced through the glass into the control room.

  Then he stopped. His eyes were steel. “A lot of people are going to die unless I figure out how to turn off this system.”

  “Yes, go, go,” she agreed, ignoring the sudden cold she felt at no longer having her body pressed closely against his.

  Wait. They had broken up.

  But did it matter? They might just die in a few minutes. If they were going to inevitably collapse and die from lack of oxygen, she wanted to do it in his arms.

  Crazy.

  He returned to the terminal and resumed typing. She peered over his shoulder. Figures flashed across the screen.

  Error. Invalid entry. It was displayed again and again.

  “What are you looking for?” she asked.

  He exhaled sharply, glancing up again at the LED readout on the wall. Only seven minutes to go. “I’m looking for a passcode of up to eight letters and digits. I have a script that could find it, but not in only seven minutes. So I’m entering variations on guesses based on what I know about Schwartz.”

  He’d created a script that ran a few hundred variations of each string he entered manually. She didn’t know much about computer security, but people tended to use passwords that had some personal meaning.

  She remembered the strange comment Holman had made about Schwartz earlier. “Have you tried ‘DeLorean’?”

  His forehead wrinkled. “Why?”

  “Something Holman said. Just try it.”

  “I’ll run combinations based on that string.” He typed for a moment.

  Error. Invalid entry.

  She held her breath.

  Error. Invalid entry.

  Error. Invalid entry.

  Then: “You are about to exceed the number of incorrect attempts. After three more failed attempts, the system will lock out all console input for five minutes.”

  They both turned and looked at the readout on the wall. Six minutes and twenty-one seconds to go.

  Ben

  Ben loped along one of the corridors. The strobe lights flashed eerily around him and he wondered once again if he had done the right thing, following the cops into this dangerous situation. Vince had given Keisha a hard time about all the kids involved in her operation.

  “First, you bring in this underage yahoo,” he had said, waving at Ben. “Then you rely on evidence from a couple of pre-teens who think they’re Philip Marlowe.” He snorted. “It’s like you think you’re in an action movie, Keisha. What’s next? You’re going to deputize Ben? Give him a badge and gun? Hey, how about a squad car and a pension?”

  “Shut your mouth,” Keisha snapped. She sketched rapidly in her notebook, tore the page out, and laid it on the table between them. “Now, both of you, pay attention to the plan.” She glared at Ben. “Your job is to stay far away from Schwartz Pharmaceuticals. I want you to keep watch over the high school.”

  Ben rolled his eyes, but nodded. He had no intention of playing rear guard.

  Not that he planned on telling them that.

  After retrieving his father’s gun, he’d caught the bus to the outskirts of town. It had been surprisingly easy to get into Schwartz Pharmaceuticals. He’d found a half-open window and shimmied inside to find himself in a small storage room.

  It was only after he’d gained access to the building that things had started to go south. First, there were all the alarms and gunfire in the distance, and then those crazy warnings about oxygen. He’d seen the blast doors go down all over the building.

  He shook his head. It didn’t matter. Hadn’t he told his father that he was going to protect everyone from that asshole Mario Fonseca? There were still people in this building who needed help. He increased his pace.

  Keisha

  Footsteps sounded behind Keisha in the corridor. Vince spun to cover her, raising his weapon.

  Ben crouched behind them, strobes flickering over the revolver in his hand.

  “What are you doing here?” Keisha cried.

  Ben shrugged. “Too late now.” He gestured. “The control room’s this way. We’ve got to shut the system down.”

  Before Keisha could respond, a shot echoed all around them. Ben’s eyes widened and his breath hissed out. Then he slumped forward and fell. His fingers opened and the gun clanged onto the floor.

  Keisha whirled to face the new threat.

  Mario stood there in a tight Nike t-shirt, balancing a Glock on one muscular arm. He sneered at them. “Was it you who let my prisoner out?” he asked, waving the barrel at Keisha and Vince. “Drop your guns.” His voice grew harsh. “Now!”

  Kei
sha glowered at him for a long beat. Mario’s smirk didn’t fade. Instead, he lifted his gun an inch, centering it on Ben’s heart. Keisha’s shoulders sagged. She bent slowly and laid her pistol down on the linoleum, motioning for Vince to do the same. There was a long moment of silence, and in the sudden quiet, they could hear the uneven whine of the fluorescent tubes above their heads. There was a scrabbling sound behind the ceiling tiles, fading off into the distance.

  Keisha straightened and backed against the wall.

  Adrian

  Adrian glanced up from the monitor at Elisa. “This is our last chance,” he said. “We only have three more tries before we’re locked out of the system.”

  “It has to be something based on DeLorean,” Elisa said. “What else have you tried?”

  Adrian shrugged. “I’ll try one more combination,” he said.

  He entered the last few keystrokes, paused.

  Then he hit enter.

  He was still working when a gunshot rang out, very close by. His hand fell to his own gun as he pivoted and peered around the corner. He gestured to Elisa to stay behind, but she trotted ahead and then jerked to a stop.

  At the end of the corridor stood Keisha and Vince—and Mario with a gun on them. Ben lay slumped motionless on the floor.

  Mario grinned. “Well, if it isn’t the Captain. Or should I say, the former Captain?” He sneered. “Drop your gun, Salas, if you don’t want me to shoot your pretty little piece right here.”

  Adrian smiled calmly and let the pistol fall out of his fingers; he held his hands out, palms open.

  His face betrayed nothing of the emotions behind it. He forced himself to gaze neutrally at Mario when all he wanted was to plunge a knife into his throat. Mario had kidnapped Elisa. Had worked with Schwartz and Holman, and risked everyone’s life. Had betrayed him.

  Mario’s voice was hard. “Here’s what I want, and what you’re going to give me, Salas. I want—”

  Footsteps pounded around another corner, and Eric Holman appeared. Breathing hard, eyes wild and staring, he stopped short at the tableau before him.

  Mario dropped back and stood with his back against a wall. His massive handgun swung to cover both Holman and Elisa. “It looks like we’re all here, don’t it.”

  Keisha said, “So, you two are working together?”

  Mario looked blank for a moment. “Huh?” He glanced at Holman. Then he grinned. “Yeah. Yeah, we are,” he added, with an expansive gesture with his pistol.

  “What?” said Holman. “I’ve never seen this kid before in my life.” Mario shoved the pistol’s barrel at his face. He tensed.

  “Don’t move, you dickhead. You stay still, or else.” Mario bared his teeth at Holman. “Both of you. Down on the ground. Kneel on the floor.” He spun back to face the others. Keisha had taken a small step forward, but she froze at his gesture and stood very still.

  Holman knelt, shaking his head. “You’re crazy. Whatever you say.”

  Elisa carefully lowered herself to the ground.

  Mario

  Mario’s gun swung in an arc to cover his hostages. His face split into a huge grin at the tension in the faces around him: his former leader, unarmed and unmoving; the cops standing helpless, everyone’s eyes fixed on him. He savored the rush of power that surged through his body, fueled by adrenaline and Rapture. He had as much slip as he wanted now. An unlimited supply.

  He was in control now. This must be what it felt like to be Salas, on top of the world with everyone else at your feet. It was finally all going Mario’s way. He wondered why he had ever obeyed Salas’s orders, when it was so much better to give the orders himself. It was finally time to get what he wanted.

  Lonnie and Ron Hundley had come to the lab with him, armed to the teeth. Then the dipshits had managed to get themselves killed by security guards. But Mario had found the formula for Rapture and the escape plan in the computer. Now all he needed was a little nest egg and he could disappear, set up shop somewhere else and manufacture the drug himself. He’d be rich beyond his dreams, but more than that, he would give the orders. He would be the kingpin.

  He waved his gun at Vince and Keisha. “You two cops. I want you to get me ten million dollars in cash, a plane, and a pilot. Or I’ll start by offing this little girl here.” He gestured again. “And from you too, Salas. Ten million dollars as well.”

  Keisha shook her head as though he had gone completely crazy. “We don’t even know if we’ll get out of the building alive.”

  Adrian’s face was calm. “It’ll take me some time to arrange that, Mario.”

  Mario sneered. “Then you better start working on it, Salas.” He spat the name without any respect, reveling in it. “You always thought you were better than us, didn’t you?” His voice dripped sarcasm. “Now you’re just one of us. Less. As a matter of fact, I want you to show it.” His voice rose. “I want you to kneel. Kneel to me, Salas, or I’ll kill her right here as we stand.”

  “You’d really give up your hostage, twenty million dollars, and a chance of escape just to engage in some petty one-upmanship with me?” Adrian’s voice was smooth, with a faint note of surprise. He didn’t move. “I wouldn’t have thought even you would get so carried away.”

  Mario’s breathing became ragged, and he glared at Adrian. There was a faint scuffling sound off to the side. A beeping noise came from the console on the wall.

  Adrian said, “You’ve always had a bit of an inferiority complex, haven’t you? Never quite good enough, never quite strong enough.”

  “That’s enough from you, Salas,” shouted Mario. He raised the Glock and pointed it at Elisa’s forehead. “I’m gonna shoot her, now.”

  Elisa

  Elisa stared at Mario, her chin up, too numb to be afraid. Behind her back, her hand brushed the smooth cylinder of the Colt tucked in her waistband. Could she take it out, cock it by feel, use it? She had fired that exact gun at the shooting range with Adrian. But targets were one thing, a human being another.

  She heard her mother’s voice once again. “Fighting is for men.” Somewhere in the hallway, a fan turned on with a whoosh.

  Adrian’s voice was cool. “Do that, Mario, and you’re going down for murder one. Killing in front of so many witnesses? Giving up your hostages? I thought you would know better by now.”

  Mario’s face twitched and his muscles contorted. Adrian’s expression was utterly placid.

  Elisa stretched her fingers, hesitated, reached out. Her mother whispered again. “You’ll never find a man if you act like one.”

  No.

  “You need to be good,” her mother whispered. She said that whenever Elisa had an opinion of her own, whenever she tried to do something her mother didn’t want. Whenever she did anything.

  But no one had rescued her today. She’d gotten away from that lab on her own.

  Now, people would die unless she did something. She had to be the one doing the rescuing. Her mother had said that taking action was bad. Shooting someone was always wrong, right? That’s what it meant to be good or evil.

  But what about self-defense? What about protecting others?

  Good and evil were a lot more complicated than her mother would have had her believe.

  She reached out with her hand, slowly, slowly, half an inch, an inch. Behind her back, she grasped the heavy Colt.

  “You’re the one who should have known better,” Mario hissed at Adrian. His face twisted. “You stopped doing your job, and for what?” He sneered. “For some girl. Everything’s been falling apart while you mooned over her. People are dying because you’ve been careless.” He took a step to the side and angled his body toward Adrian. “It’s time for you to go, and for new management to take your place.”

  Elisa slipped her fingers into position around the trigger, fighting to keep her breathing soft and even. She moved very slowly, infinitesimally, sliding the revolver around her body.

  Adrian said softly, “You’re not going to be able to manage anything, on
the run from the police over kidnapping charges.”

  Mario snarled, and twisted away from her, swinging his weapon to bear on Adrian. “You’re the one who’s gonna die, right now. I can kill you and keep my hostage for later.” He pulled back the hammer, kept the barrel pointing at Adrian’s face. The click was loud in the stillness.

  Adrian simply glanced at Mario, expression calm as always, even in the face of death. As though his death wouldn’t matter. He had chosen to draw Mario’s attention away from Elisa. He was risking his life for her.

  This man, the one she’d believed was selfish and evil, was risking his life, and not just for her. For everyone in the building.

  She’d been wrong about so many things.

  Adrian smiled. “Now,” he murmured.

  A gunshot pierced the silence, echoing and ringing against the cement floors and walls. Ben jerked where he lay, and Keisha stiffened and her fingers twitched towards her empty holster. Mario’s expression was puzzled—as if he wasn’t sure whether or not he’d just shot his long-time leader—and then his pistol dropped from boneless fingers and blood spurted from his arm.

  Elisa squatted on her knees, the Colt heavy in her hands, a tiny stream of smoke trailing up from the barrel.

  She’d done it.

  Adrian ran to her side. “Are you all right?”

  She wanted to sit up straight, but everything was wobbling around her. Her head was aching again. The revolver fell from her limp fingers.

  Quick as a flash, Keisha scooped up the Glock Mario had dropped. “Now it’s your turn not to move,” she said, cocking it at him as he sucked in uneven breaths, clutching at his arm, eyes wild.

  “Warning. In sixty seconds, all oxygen will be ventilated from the building. All personnel must evacuate immediately.”

  Adrian leaped up and ran for the terminal set in the wall. His fingers flew over the keys.

  The clicking echoed loudly in the silent hall. Everyone’s eyes were riveted on his actions. Elisa felt as though she was floating. Could Adrian still think straight as the oxygen levels dropped? She’d thought her idea was so clear, but now it all seemed so vague. And how could he even put it all together when there were so few tries left?