by P. T. Hylton
Jessica sighed. "I figured as much." She glared at Brian. "This is your fault for saying this was going to be easy."
Brian didn’t seem to notice the insult. “I’m almost done. Give me twenty seconds.”
“We may not have twenty seconds.” CB scowled at the security footage on the screen. "Is there another way out of here?"
“We’re in a data room." Jessica gestured to the floor. "The cables run under our feet. They built these rooms with a raised floor to accommodate all that. Pop out one of the floor tiles and we should be able to squeeze down through there. But first, let's see what I can do to keep them from getting through this door too quickly.”
She marched to the door and pulled off the panel with the controls. Then she quickly shorted them out so the door wouldn't be able to be unlocked with a security card.
“Got it!” Brian’s eyes were beaming with triumph.
CB clapped him on the arm. “Good work. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Brian grabbed a hook off the wall. Then he stuck it into a slot in one of the floor tiles, and pulled it up. He squatted and shone his headlamp into the crawlspace below.
"There's only about a two-foot gap between the raised floor and the steel deck," he said with a frown. "Looks like I'm going to have to suck in my gut."
CB squatted next to him and peered into the crawlspace. "We’ll make it work. Let's get moving."
Brian squeezed beneath the raised floor first, quickly followed by Jessica. CB was the last down, and just as he ducked his head under the raised floor, someone began pounding on the door to the data room.
"Colonel Brickman!" yelled a voice from the other side of the door. "Lay down your weapon and open this door. We are placing you under arrest. If you do not comply, things are going to get very uncomfortable for you."
CB’s muscular frame was almost too large to fit in the crawlspace, and he had to army crawl, his back and chest scraping against the top and bottom of the space. From behind him, he heard a distinctive hissing whine..
He touched Jessica's foot and whispered, “As soon as we’re under the next room, we need to get out of here. They’re cutting through the door. It'll only take them a minute or two to get through."
Jessica passed the message up to Brian, and a few moments later he pushed up a tile and climbed through into the next room. Jessica and Brian quickly followed.
CB looked around quickly as he emerged, trying to get a handle on their situation. They were in some type of office. Two maintenance workers stared with wide eyes at the three people who had just emerged from the floor tile.
Jessica touched CB's arm. "There is an entrance to a large duct system at the end of the next hallway. If we can get past the GMT, we can make it into it."
CB nodded quickly, ignoring the sting at hearing those fakers being called the GMT. “Let's do it."
They listened, waiting until the GMT made it through the door and loudly charged into the next room. Then Jessica led the way, taking them out of the office and down the hallway. At the end of the corridor, they reached a door. Jessica tried the knob and cursed.
“I take it the duct work is behind this door?” CB asked.
“Sorry, I didn’t think it would be locked.” She went to work prying the panel off the door controls and plugging in her tablet.
The distinctive sound of boots slapped against the deck echoed through the hallway, and a black-clad face appeared around the corner at the end of the hall.
The faceless GMT member froze as he saw them. Then he shouted, “They’re over here.”
CB glanced at Jessica. “Work fast.” Then he drew his pistol and fired a warning shot above the man’s head.
It was a risky move, as it could attract other guards to their location and it would help justify the fake GMT’s use of deadly force. But it would be worth it if it bought them enough time to get through the door.
Just as he’d hoped, the man disappeared back around the corner.
There was a loud click behind CB, and Jessica said, “Got it!”
CB backed through the door without turning, never taking his eyes off the end of the hallway until he was through and the door shut.
He turned to see the room. “Uh, so we’re trapped again?”
A few feet in front of him stood a chain-link fence with an old-fashioned lock on the gate. Beyond the fence was a huge eight-foot-by-eight-foot duct.
“What is this place?” Brian asked.
“It’s our way into the main ventilation system.” She gestured toward the huge duct in front of them. “This vents to the outside. It lets out stagnant air.”
“Huh,” Brian said. “And you want us to get in there?”
She shrugged. “I don’t see a lot of other options.” She pointed at the lock on the gate. “I can’t hack this one, but I’m hoping you can, CB.”
CB grinned. He raised his pistol and shot the lock. Then he gave the gate a small nudge and it swung open with a squeak.
They went through the gate and climbed into the massive duct system. It was like walking down a metal hallway. Every footstep clanged and every word they spoke echoed.
They hadn’t been walking long when they heard the sound of heavy boots hitting sheet metal echoing from behind them.
“Damn, we better move faster,” CB said.
Suddenly Jessica stopped. “Shit. I just thought of something. What time is it?”
Brian glanced at his watch. “About two.”
“I need the exact time.”
He looked again. “One fifty-seven. Why’s that important right now?”
“Because in three minutes, those fans are going to turn on and suck out the old air. It turns on for five minutes at the top of every hour. That’s how we regulate the air we breathe on New Haven.”
Brian nodded slowly. “So what you’re saying is it’s about to get really breezy in this hallway.”
Jessica nodded. “If we don’t secure ourselves in the next three minutes, we’ll probably die.”
CB grinned. “How much you want to bet that the faceless GMT doesn’t know that?”
Brian looked around, his gaze nervously darting from floor to ceiling. “I notice there isn’t a whole lot to hang on to down here.”
CB pulled his knife from his belt. “Guess we’ll have to make our own.”
He stabbed his knife through the sheet metal wall of the duct, working it to create a two-inch hole. Then he pulled his belt from his pants and wrapped it around the knife.
Brian’s voice was urgent when he spoke. “We’ve got less than a minute.”
“Plenty of time,” CB muttered. He put the knife back into the hole in the sheet metal, pushing it all the way in this time until the handle cleared the hole. Then he twisted it sideways so it lay lengthwise against the wall. He tugged on his belt, and the knife clanged against the other side of the sheet metal, holding fast.
“Instant handhold,” he said. “Jessica, come here.”
She complied, and he wrapped the belt around her arm once.
“This isn’t going to be comfortable, is it?” she asked, grabbing the belt above her arm.
“Probably not.” There were only about six inches of belt remaining past Jessica’s arm. CB grabbed hold of it and turned to Brian. “You’re going to have to hold on to my waist, buddy.”
Brian hesitated.
In the distance, there was a loud click and they heard hydraulics.
“That’s the outer vents opening!” Jessica shouted. “Grab on, Brian!”
Brian stepped forward and threw his arms around CB’s waist. “Like I said earlier, not awkward at all.”
The sounds of boots against sheet metal were getting louder now, but it was quickly dwarfed by the sounds of the powerful motors bringing the fans to life. In the distance, the black-clad members of the GMT ran toward them.
“Hang on tight!” Jessica shouted.
The blast of air hit CB like a baton to the chest, knocking him off his feet. He�
�d expected the wind to be strong, but he hadn’t considered it would be anywhere near this powerful. He held tight to the belt, squeezing as hard as he could with both hands. Brian clutched his waist, hanging on to keep from being sucked down the corridor that had transformed into a wind tunnel.
CB glanced at the hole in the duct, thinking of how he’d wrapped the belt around the knife and hoping it would hold.
The five faceless GMT members struggled to remain on their feet in the powerful wind, a battle they quickly lost. If CB hadn’t been holding on for dear life, it almost might have been funny. They slid down the hallway, frantically trying to find a grip on the sheer metal of the duct walls and floors.
As the power of the fans increased, so did the speed of the GMT members whooshing toward CB and his friends. One by one, they slipped past CB, Brian, and Jessica. As the fifth and last member slid past, he desperately grabbed at them, and CB felt a sudden jolt. Looking back, he saw the black-clad soldier had grabbed Brian’s leg and was hanging on for dear life.
CB clutched the belt with all his strength. The added weight of the extra man made a huge difference. CB was having trouble holding on, and he knew if he was struggling, Brian had to be too. He felt the hands around his waist slip.
Brian lost his grip, and he slid free of CB and toward the vent at the end of the duct and the thirty-thousand-foot drop outside the vent.
CB spun, his reflexes responding before his mind could, and threw out an arm, desperately grabbing for Brian. His fingers closed around Brian’s outstretched wrist.
The sudden jolt was almost enough to make CB lose his one-hand grip on the belt, but he managed to hold fast.
The fans had to be blowing full-blast now. CB, Jessica, and Brian were all parallel to the floor.
CB held on with all his strength, all his willpower. But still he knew he couldn’t last long like this. He shouted to Brian, straining to be heard over the rushing wind. “Kick him off! I can’t hold you both!”
Brian peered down at the masked man still clutching his leg. Then he drew back his other foot and brought it down hard. The foot connected with the man’s face, and the soldier lost his grip and careened down the corridor, carried like a loose piece of paper in a strong breeze.
The jolt of Brian’s kick almost caused CB to lose his grip again, but he dug his fingers into each other as he gripped the belt, and he managed to hold on. Veins stood out on his forehead as he used every ounce of strength to keep him and Brian from flying out the vent after the GMT members.
Then he felt a hand on his arm, taking off a bit of the pressure and making it possible to maintain his grip. It was Jessica. Her face was contorted in pain, and he saw the arm the belt was wrapped around was white. CB silently cursed his own stupidity. In trying to save her, he’d wrapped her arm in a tourniquet, and now the blood flow to her lower arm and hand was cut off. The belt dug deep enough into her flesh to break the skin, and drops of blood flecked into the wind from the contusions above the belt. Despite her pain, she held on to CB’s arm.
With a grunt of effort, Brian reached up and grasped CB with his other hand.
Still, CB knew they wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long. He’d been an overconfident fool to think they’d be able to survive this torrent of wind with a single knife wedged into the wall.
He felt Brian beginning to slip again, and he didn’t know if he had the strength to save him again.
Then he heard the most beautiful sound in the world: the hydraulics moving. The vents were closing.
A moment later, the fans slowed, and Brian, Jessica, and CB collapsed to the floor, gasping in exhaustion, pain, and relief.
17
Firefly woke with a start, his body already beginning to stand. It was as if he was being physically pulled to his feet. There was only one thing that could do that, he knew. An order from his masters. Somehow, even from a distance, they were calling him, and his body was responding even before his mind was fully awake.
He felt like utter shit.
The world looked strange, blurry. It seemed to swim before his eyes each time he blinked. And that was far from the worst of it. A feeling akin to nausea threatened to overwhelm him. But this nausea wasn’t only in his stomach; it was a sickness that sang from every cell of his body. He could even feel it in his teeth.
He’d had his share of rough mornings after a night of drinking at Tankards, but this felt like every hangover he’d ever had all rolled into one. His body throbbed with pain.
The worst part was that he knew there was a very simple cure to the sickness: sleep.
For the first time in his life as a vampire, he was experiencing daysickness. All his body wanted was to rest until the sun went down. If he lay down in this storm drain and closed his eyes, he’d be asleep in an instant and the pain would be gone. But his masters compelled him to come, so that was what he must do.
It was no wonder all the vampires he’d encountered during the day in his time with the GMT had been so pissed off. The way he was currently feeling, he’d probably rip out the throat of anyone who came into his immediate vicinity.
He ran through the maze of storm drains, instinctively knowing which way to turn at each junction. Once, he made a wrong turn, but he only made it a few steps before his instincts recognized the mistake and forced him to turn around.
The tunnels were crowded with sleeping Ferals, a fact that made Firefly nervous when he thought about it too hard. But they didn’t rouse when he ran by, or even when he leaped over them. He understood why. He was a vampire. It wasn’t worth the daysickness to go after someone who couldn’t even feed their hunger. If he still smelled human, the experience of running through this tunnel would have been far different, he knew.
His leg brushed against a Feral as he ran by, and he shuddered. The world had turned upside down. He would give anything to go back just a few days, to refuse to lead the Resettlers to their first night on the surface. If he could somehow get up to New Haven, he’d pay Fleming a visit. He’d slice the councilman throat to balls and he’d pull out the man’s insides. Then he’d sink his teeth into Fleming’s soft neck and drink deep. He could almost feel the hot blood flowing across his teeth and down his throat—
He shook his head, pushing away the fantasy and the hunger it had stoked. Truth was, if he were on New Haven right now, he’d be on fire, scorched by the sunlight that filled the ship at all hours.
Not that a fire sounded too terrible right now. Compared with the daysickness, fiery death would almost be a relief.
He found Mark and Aaron waiting in a large open area where several tunnels came together. About twenty Resettlers stood around them, all looking about as good as Firefly felt.
Mark nodded toward Firefly when he saw them. “There he is. Our brilliant field commander.”
Firefly wanted nothing more than to rip the vampire’s face off, but he just came to a stop and stood silently before his two masters. Where had these two been during the battle last night? They’d given Firefly a couple orders and then disappeared.
Some leaders.
Aaron crossed his arms and scowled at Firefly. “It seems we underestimated our opponents last night. And that we overestimated you.”
“It wasn’t a great outcome,” Firefly started, “but if we—”
“Shut up,” Mark ordered.
Firefly’s jaw snapped shut.
“We were overconfident in our numbers,” Mark continued. “We lost fifty in that damn explosion alone.” He turned to the gathered vampires, watching their faces contort in the discomfort of their daysickness. “I know you all feel like shit right now. That’s to be expected. And, to be honest, you deserve to feel like shit after last night. Now we’re going to stand here in silence until the rest of your pathetic brothers and sisters get here.”
The wait couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but it was the longest five minutes Firefly had ever experienced. There were two warring needs inside him, both equally powerful. His vampi
re body was designed to sleep during the day, and every nerve was screaming out to do so. But the need to obey his masters was even stronger. And waiting in silence with nothing to distract his mind made it even worse.
Finally, mercifully, after nearly two hundred vampires had gathered, Aaron spoke. “All right, this looks like everybody that’s left. First, I want to apologize for last night.”
Firefly tilted his head in surprise. Apologies didn’t seem like Aaron’s MO.
“I want to apologize for trusting you idiots so much. Let me assure you that will not happen again.”
Mark nodded along with his partner’s words. “That said, we have a rare opportunity here, and we’re not going to let it sail by without taking a swing. Jaden and his disciples are hiding in the shadows, just like us. And I’d bet my ass they’re not sleeping. They’ll be hunting us. That’s why your primary order is to protect Mark and I at all costs.”
Firefly swallowed hard, understanding the implications of that order. He knew he’d jump in front of a bullet or murder his best friend to protect his masters now. There was nothing he’d be able to do to stop himself.
Mark continued, “Most of you will stay here with us in case those Agartha vampires do show up. Firefly, you’re going to take a team of twenty and go looking for Jaden’s crew. If you find them before they find us, you give a shout and hold tight. We’ll send our army, and once they get there, it’s on. Nothing fancy this time. Just a good old-fashioned fight where we outnumber the enemy twenty to one.”
Firefly nodded, then turned to gather twenty of the soldiers.
But Aaron spoke again. “One more thing before you go. You think you’re in pain now. We understand. We feel it too. But this is nothing. Wait and see how it feels when we order you not to sleep for a week. Then you’ll know real pain. And if you mess this up again, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.” A tiny smile touched the corner of his lips. “Move out.”
Firefly wished he could punch Aaron in the face. Just one solid hit would make him feel so much better. Instead, he gathered his twenty scouts, including Sharon and Hector.