Fast

by Shane M Brown

  The round river stones in the tray didn’t stop.

  When Coleman had jumped from the platform, he’d noticed the stretched orange tray webbing. In places it was torn. It certainly looked far beyond its capacity to hold the stones on the tray much longer.

  Dozens of large round river stones launched from the truck at seventy miles an hour. The mini-avalanche headed straight towards the switchboard station.

  The two gunmen just gaped in shock at the incoming missiles.

  One gunman caught a bouncing boulder straight in the chest. He flew back through the air and smashed into the switchboard station. The second man tried to run, but caught a boulder right in the side of his leg. His knee snapped like a dried twig. He collapsed under the pounding deluge of high speed bouncing stones.

  More than half the stones struck the target. The first few smashed down the narrow protective fence. The rest pounded into the switchboards. A bright flare of electricity preceded the entire level dropping into darkness.

  #

  When the lights went out, Gould was sitting in the admin hub. He sat flanked by two gunmen. He wasn’t sure if they protected or guarded him.

  Both, probably. Guarding and protecting. While I still have value to Cairns, he’ll keep me alive.

  Only the banks of computer monitors illuminated the room. Of the five men in the comms room, only Gould appreciated the implications of the sudden power lose.

  The radio jammers are down!

  He spun in his seat to another terminal. The screen displayed all the electronic systems affected by the power loss. Yep, the radio jamming equipment appeared on the list. He checked how the system had compensated for the sudden power loss. The comms room computers operated on an uninterrupted power supply, but the C-Guards drew far too much power to function seamlessly through a major interruption to the internal electrical grid. Gould brought up their log records, tracking his eyes over the code. There. The C-Guards had stopped functioning for less than a second. Point four of a second, to be exact. Long enough to get a message out? Unlikely.

  Better check.

  He opened the log of local radio traffic. In the last twenty seconds, a lot of signals had originated from the habitation level. Chiefly the gunmen’s radio headsets as they set about trying to stop whatever caused that tremendous racket outside the hub. Nothing else in the Complex had broadcast a radio signal during the vulnerable window.

  Gould stopped, about to close the log. As an afterthought, he scrolled down and checked the Evacuation Center’s radio log.

  Damn.

  A signal appeared on the log. Transmitting continuously, it would have broadcast during the window.

  He lowered his head and tried to think through the pain in his face. This was very bad news.

  Gould stopped as something new started flashing on his screen:

  TEMPORARY SYSTEMS FAILURE IN EVACUATION CENTRE.

  PLEASE DEFINE NEW STATUS.

  EVACUATION OR QUARANTINE?

  A trigger question?

  A trigger question marked the very beginning of a computer program needing a human response before it could proceed. They were normally used in emergencies when administrators needed a prepared set of actions to take affect very quickly. This trigger question had been activated because of the interrupted power supply. The admin hub’s computer sensed something significant had happened, and wanted to know if its current parameters were still accurate. In an emergency, its principal concern was the Evacuation Center. Gould reread the question. EVACUATION OR QUARANTINE? His mind snagged on the question. There was something he was missing. Something significant….

  Of course! The Evacuation Center’s electricity was principally served by the main Complex. The Evacuation Center could function independently, but they hadn’t switched over automatically. Biological pathogens couldn’t spread via electricity, so there was no need. When the power went down, the admin computer needed to know how to treat the Evacuation Center. Should it consider the Center to be an evacuation point, or a quarantine station?

  The computer was asking Gould to choose between the two options.

  Gould smiled and rubbed his hands together. An Evacuation Center and a Quarantine Center had very different purposes. One was designed to be protected, while the other was designed to be guarded. Quarantine Center occupants had absolutely no control of their surroundings. Prisoners don’t get the keys to their jail.

  Gould typed ‘Q’.

  With that single tap on the keyboard, every person in the Evacuation Center was immediately classed as a quarantine risk.

  A new line flashed on the screen.

  QUARANTINE PROTOCOLS ACTIVATED.

  Now Gould had control of every system in both facilities. Every cloud has a silver lining.

  #

  Dana beamed at Harrison. She was flushing with relief. ‘It’s out. Our message got out!’

  Harrison punched the air. ‘Yes!’

  Dana hesitated. ‘Wait…this can’t be right.’

  They were in the communications room. Dana poked the enter key on her keyboard. Frustrated, she moved to another computer and tried again. The second computer wasn’t responding either. Both screens were unresponsive. She opened and closed the computer program. That worked okay, but she couldn’t do anything once the program opened. ‘Why isn’t this working? The computers are operating fine, they’re just not letting me do anything.’

  Harrison looked around the room. Something felt different. The communication room was a small chamber leading directly off the communal lounge. L-shaped workstations lined two walls. On the workstations sat eight computers. What little else occupied the room looked brand new. This was probably the longest that anyone had ever spent in this room. Harrison sensed that something had changed in the last few seconds. He suddenly picked the difference.

  ‘Why have the computer screens all changed color?’ he asked.

  ‘Pardon?’ asked Dana absently, still futilely tapping system commands into her keyboard.

  Harrison repeated, ‘All the background screens have changed color from blue to pink.’

  This got Dana’s attention. ‘Pink?’

  She jumped up from her computer and rushed to one of the monitors near Harrison, gently pushing on his arm to make herself room.

  Harrison became immediately aware of her touch. Had it lingered a little long? He kept his mind focused on whatever caused the computer problems.

  ‘Oh, no!’ Dana tested a few keys on this third computer and then slammed her palm down violently on the monitor.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Harrison, surprised by her outburst.

  Dana took a deep breath. She seemed to be getting her head around what she read on the screen. ‘Our status has been changed from an Evacuation Center to a Quarantine Center. I should have seen this coming. We could have isolated our electrical systems when we had the chance, then this never could have happened. I was too busy worrying about everything else. I never thought of this.’

  Harrison couldn’t see why she was so upset. Her hands shook. He sounded her out carefully. ‘OK. Evacuation to quarantine. Why is this a bad thing?’

  Dana slumped back in her seat. ‘Quarantine is a scientific way of saying ‘prisoner’. It means we’ve lost control of all the systems in here.’

  ‘What system exactly?’ asked Harrison, dread creeping into his voice. ‘The systems in this comms room?’

  Dana shoved away the keyboard. ‘No, you’re not understanding me. All the systems. Everything. Including the containment door, Harrison. They can open the containment door any time they want.’

  Harrison felt like he’d been slapped in the face. ‘They can let the creatures in here?’

  Dana met his eyes and held them. ‘And there is absolutely nothing we can do to stop them.’

  #

  Onboard the Coronado, Vice Admiral Tucker stared at the pictures arrayed over the table. Chief Warrant Officer Daniels fidgeted.

  Tucker couldn’t blame him
.

  For the first time in his twenty-five year naval career, Tucker was speechless. It was hard to believe the pictures were real. If Tucker hadn’t known the source of the transmission, he would have dismissed the images as an elaborate hoax. The signal transmitted from the Biological Solutions Research Complex had been squeezed through a point four second interruptions of the C-Guards. Somehow, someone inside had managed to interrupt the jamming equipment long enough to transmit the message.

  Only one short text message and the attached photos had been received. Tucker reread the text message.

  ‘Is this for real?’

  ‘The pictures aren’t doctored,’ answered Daniels. ‘The signal codes are ours. That message came from one of our people. This is real.’

  Tucker thought of the more than three hundred civilians in the facility. Then he thought of the three hundred million Americans that could be exposed to a biological weapon of mass destruction in the hands of terrorists.

  I don’t have a choice now.

  He nodded to Captain Boundary. Withdrawing the key from under his shirt, Boundary crossed to the wall safe. He entered his digital combination and then used the key. Opening the safe, he withdrew the silver cylinder containing his weapon arming codes. He stared at the silver container for a second before shutting the safe.

  He spoke his next request without turning. He wasn’t ready for eye-contact yet. Not with what he was about to do. ‘Mr. Daniels. Get us a line to the Secretary of Defense.’

  #

  Five seconds of darkness.

  Coleman spun the tray-back’s wheels. He accelerated through the darkness. He possessed a mental picture of the largest pieces of scattered debris. The pattern was locked in his mind. He turned the wheel left then right, navigating from memory in the near pitch darkness. For his plan to work, his driving would have to be precise.

  ‘I can’t see a thing,’ said Vanessa. ‘How will you find them?’

  ‘Just trust me.’

  Coleman orientated himself on the one easily recognizable light. He could see the light off on his right. The green EXIT light was mounted on the outer wall. It glowed right between the north elevator shaft and the stairwell. The light had an inbuilt battery. It was independent to the electrical switchboard. The scorpion truck had collided with the wall less than fifteen meters from its eerie green glow. Tracking the light, Coleman could make a good guess at the scorpion truck’s location in the darkness.

  Four pistol shots cut through the darkness. They seemed to come from the scorpion truck, so Coleman steered towards the sound. The tray-back bucked as something crunched under the tires.

  Here comes the light.

  Lights flashed on around the pedestrian loop like fluorescent ceiling dominos. When the lights caught up with the tray-back, Coleman was driving straight towards the gaping elevator shaft.

  Vanessa stiffened in her seat.

  Coleman searched the floor ahead. He spotted the bodies lying between the scorpion truck and the elevator shaft. The two gunmen lay in pools of blood. King and Forest had disappeared. After dispatching the gunmen, the Marines could have reached only one place in the five seconds of darkness.

  ‘How wide is that elevator shaft?’ he asked.

  The external elevator doors were open. It was bare shaft beyond.

  Eyes wide, Vanessa tugged her seat belt into place. ‘Not wide enough for whatever you have in mind.’

  ‘Taking out the switchboard wasn’t the only reason we needed to lose those stones,’ said Coleman. ‘We need the truck to be heavier in the front.’

  ‘Lookout!’ warned Vanessa.

  The bottom edge of the elevator entrance was a cliff edge racing towards them. Vanessa grabbed the dashboard as they passed the point of no return. Even if Coleman hit the brakes, they would slide straight into the shaft.

  And at that moment, that’s exactly what Coleman did. He hit the brakes.

  Tires smoking, the tray-back slid straight into the elevator shaft.

  #

  Vanessa felt the front wheels drop over the edge.

  The undercarriage slammed down, grinding the truck to a jerking halt half in the shaft. The entire truck hung silent for a moment…then it began tipping forwards.

  ‘No, no, no, no, NO!’ she yelled. It was over-balancing on the undercarriage. The back wheels lifted off the floor. The truck tipped into the elevator shaft.

  The yawning shaft filled the windshield. She felt the entire world dropping away before her…then came a thump from somewhere behind the cab. The truck abruptly stopped tipping.

  She froze in the cab, worried that even the smallest movement might start them tipping again. The truck had tilted so far forward that it hung almost completely in the shaft. It was almost vertical. She could see straight down the shaft.

  Why aren’t we falling?

  The vehicle groaned around them. As far as she could tell, they should already be dead. She remembered the thumping sound before they stopped tilting.

  The tray. The tray’s caught on the top of the elevator entrance. This thing could still fall anytime.

  Something could give way and let the truck drop. Either the tray or the elevator entrance itself. Neither was designed for this kind of punishment. Vanessa knew a thing or two about destructive testing.

  Hanging forward in the safety belt, she looked straight down the elevator shaft through the windshield.

  Alex was already moving. He placed his boots either side of the steering wheel and released his seat belt. ‘We need to leave, Vanessa. We’re getting out. Quickly, help me.’

  It took her a moment to realize his intention. The truck was completely contained in the elevator shaft. The shaft walls were just inches wider than the truck, so they couldn’t open the doors to escape the tray-back. The precariously tilted vehicle completely blocked the elevator entrance.

  That only left the windshield.

  ‘That’s right,’ he said, reading her expression. ‘We’re climbing out the front.’

  If it had been anyone else, she would have called them insane, but she didn’t question his instructions. As Forest had once explained, If the Captain said ‘Jump’, you asked ‘How high?’ while you were in the air.

  Vanessa copied his maneuver, placing her shoes on the dash before releasing her seat belt.

  The truck groaned as their weight shifted the cab.

  Alex braced himself against the door and the roof. ‘Hold the seat headrest and kick the windshield on my count. Ready?’

  Vanessa looked through the windshield.

  Ready? How ready can I be to kick out the windshield of a truck dangling in an elevator shaft?

  ‘Absolutely,’ she lied. ‘Let’s do it.’

  He quickly counted down. ‘Three, Two, One – KICK!’

  Together, they kicked out hard. Already weakened, the windshield popped out and flipped down the shaft. Suddenly nothing separated them from the chasm below. That’s a big drop.

  In the darkness below, something clinging to the shaft wall dodged away from the tumbling windshield.

  Vanessa squinted. It was man-shaped. More precisely, it was King-shaped.

  Down further, she saw Forest reach the top of the elevator carriage. He activated a flashlight.

  Alex drew a small pocket knife from his webbing and quickly cut something behind her. He pulled steadily on whatever it was. His hand came back into her field of vision. The seat belt. He had cut the belt from where it joined to the seat. He steadily drew the full length of the belt from the side of the truck.

  ‘Wrap this end around your left hand,’ he instructed quickly. ‘Then squeeze both your hands into one big fist.’

  ‘Alright,’ she said, wrapping and squeezing. ‘All done.’

  ‘Now jump.’

  This was what she expected, but jumping through the windshield out the front of the truck was still a big ask. She’d be hanging in midair just by the seat belt, assuming she had the strength to hold on.

  ‘D
on’t think about it,’ demanded Alex. ‘Just do it right now!’

  She jumped through the front of the truck. It was more like a drop. Gripping the belt in both hands, she half-bounced, half-slid down the steeply angled hood into the shaft.

  Suddenly the belt snapped taunt. She jerked to a halt. She hung just below the truck’s front wheels. It all happened so fast it seemed to be over before it even started. She scrabbled with her shoes on the side of the shaft. The belt twisted and sent her into a dangling spin. Her right shoe hit the shaft wall again, got a good grip, but there was nothing to stand on or take her weight. Her arms were already burning from gripping the seat belt.

  The truck lurched. Alex dropped down beside her on the cab’s other safety belt.

  He glanced down quickly. ‘We’ll never get down fast enough.’

  Vanessa heard the terrorists trying to get around the truck and access the shaft.

  Alex hauled himself up the seat belt with one hand. ‘We need to get down this shaft double-time.’

  On the front of the truck was a light winch. Alex grabbed the winch with one hand then flicked loose the seatbelt from the other. Free from the belt, he clung onto the winch’s steel frame with both hands. The winch was the kind with a steel drum-fed cable connected to a heavy-duty hook.

  He released the hook from its mounting clamp. ‘Vanessa, grab the hook with both hands.’

  Straining, she pulled herself up the belt like she was doing a chin-up. She lunged out and caught the hook. It was easier to hold than the belt. She flicked her wrist to unwind the belt from her left hand.

  She lunged across with her second hand. The momentum started her spinning on the end of the hook. There was hardly enough room for both hands. Part of the hook bit into her palm. She couldn’t keep this up long. She lost sight of what Alex was doing, but then her rotation brought her around and she saw him holding the winch’s manual control.

  ‘Hold on tight.’ Alex jerked the control lever into ‘Free play’ mode.