The half-dozen guards protecting the press box are rolling around, blinded by the grenade. Hunter uses the opportunity to snatch a smoke grenade from another guard. He rolls it into the press box and then flattens himself on the outside of the doorway. There’s a hiss followed by white smoke billowing out. He can hear two deeper coughs and a higher one that must be Casey’s.
Hunter charges through the doorway. There’s the sound of a shot, but it goes several inches wide. He flails through the smoke until he finds a thin hand that’s very familiar. Casey squeaks with surprise, which elicits another shot in their general direction. Hunter fires wildly into the smoke, but he doesn’t hear anyone cry out with pain.
He drags Casey out of the press box. Max is waiting for them—as are more guards. Hunter uses another smoke grenade to cover their retreat down the stairs. They make their way through the guards on the concourse to join the crowds fleeing the arena. Everyone is too busy running to notice the cause for their fleeing is running with them.
As soon as they’re outside the stadium, Hunter pulls Casey over to behind a tree. “Are you all right?” he asks.
“I’m fine. They didn’t hurt me.”
“Good.” Hunter wants to kiss her like back at the motel, but they don’t have time. Everyone is going to be looking for them and there’s a lot they need to do. “Do you know which building the children are in?”
“No. They never let me see her.”
“It’s all right. We’re going to find her and the others.” Hunter turns to Max. “We’re going to need something that can hold about thirty kids. A bus or a truck or something big. Think you can find something and meet us here in a half-hour?”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Max hurries off to begin his search while Hunter takes Casey’s hand.
“Come on, we’ll find her.”
“How?”
“We’ll just ask.”
***
The third guard Hunter interrogates finally knows where the children are being held. The first two he snuck up on were not helpful at all; Hunter knocked them unconscious and then cuffed them with their own zip ties. This third one actually wets his pants when Hunter sticks the AK-47 in his face.
“Where are they?”
“The library. They keep them in the library.”
“Thank you.” Hunter hits him with the butt of the assault rifle and then zip ties his hands as well. Studying the man, Hunter decides his body armor and helmet look the right size. He strips them off to put on over his T-shirt and head. He doesn’t bother with the soiled pants. “We really should find you something to wear. Not that I don’t like the whole slave Leia thing.”
“Funny,” Casey growls. “Let’s just focus on saving my daughter first.”
“All right. But once we get her, you are going to have to get out of that. It’s too conspicuous.”
“Maybe we’ll find a really tiny guard so I can take his armor.”
“Let’s hope.” As they start out, Hunter says, “If anyone asks, the reverend said I had to get you to safety.”
“Good idea.”
They start along the paths through the university, searching for the library. With the panic in the stadium, there is only another pair of guards in front of the doors to the library. One of them stops Hunter before he can go inside. “What’s with the woman?”
“The boss wanted me to get her somewhere safe. It’s nuts out there. Crazy assholes with guns. Zeebs breaking loose. Didn’t you hear?”
“They said something about a couple fugitives. Who’s the girl?”
“I’m the reverend’s top girl,” Casey says. “Unless you want to explain why you let his favorite be killed, I’d suggest you stand aside.”
The guards grumble, but then part so Hunter can lead Casey inside. There isn’t any sign of the children on the first floor. They go upstairs to the second floor, but it’s deserted too. “You don’t think they moved them, do you?” Casey asks.
“I hope not.”
Hunter takes the lead as they go up to the third floor. Even before they can start to look, Polly shrieks, “Mommy!” She races across the library to throw herself into Casey’s waiting arms. As much as Hunter wants to admire this tender scene, he has to survey the situation in the library.
To his relief there aren’t any guards on the floor. There’s just a single mousy brunette surrounded by about thirty kids ranging from toddlers to their early teens. “Can…can I help you?” the brunette mumbles.
“I’m here to transfer the kids to a more secure location. Maybe you heard all that racket outside?”
“I…I heard something was going on. They…they didn’t tell me what.”
The kids back up when Hunter gestures with the AK-47. He doesn’t want to frighten them, but it seems like the kind of insensitive thing a real church guard would do. “Come on, you little brats. We got to get moving.”
The kids are well-trained enough that he doesn’t need to tell them twice. They form up in a single-file line to shuffle towards the stairs. Casey is still holding Polly, cuddling the little girl against her chest. She gestures to the brunette with her head. “You think she’s my size?”
“I think so,” Hunter says with a grin.
Once Casey has appropriated the woman’s clothes, right down to her glasses, they can start down the stairs. Casey leans against Hunter while holding Polly’s hand on her other side. “Why don’t you take those glasses off? You could see better,” he says.
“I’ll take them off when we get past those guards,” she says. She lets Polly’s hand go when they get to the bottom of the stairs. She quickly pulls her hair back to put it up thanks to a clip taken from the woman upstairs. “There, do I look dowdy enough?”
“You couldn’t look dowdy if you tried.”
“What’s dowdy?” Polly asks.
“It means Mommy doesn’t want to look pretty right now so the bad men won’t recognize her.”
“Oh.”
Casey takes her daughter’s hand again, as much to let Polly lead her as anything. They walk as quickly as they can past the guards, but one of them calls for Hunter and Casey to stop. Hunter turns around. “You got a problem?”
“Yeah. I didn’t get no orders about taking the kids nowhere.”
“They just came in. I got to get them on a truck and move them to the temple.”
“I’d better check—”
Hunter hits the guy in the face with the butt of his AK-47. Before the other guard can react, Hunter brings the rifle around to smash across the man’s helmet. Both guards end up in a heap on the ground. Hunter binds them with their zip ties and then takes the rifle off one, having broken his other one.
The kids are huddled on the pathway nearby. They part like the Red Sea to let him pass. Casey tosses aside the glasses she no longer needs and then smiles broadly at the kids. “It’s all right, kids. Mr. Hawking is going to take us somewhere safe, away from all these bad people.”
“What about our mommies and daddies?” a little girl asks.
“We’re going to get them,” Casey says. “I promise.”
Hunter lets Casey worry about the children while he scouts the path back towards where they parted company with Max. He hopes the Israeli pilot can come through with some transport—
Right on cue he hears the rumble of a diesel engine. A tan half-ton truck comes to a stop along the curb. Max leans over to wave to Hunter. “Need a lift?”
“I know some people who do,” Hunter says. He gestures to Casey and the children. The back of the truck is too high for most of the kids, so Hunter and Casey have to help the kids up into the truck. Polly is the last one aboard. Before Casey can climb up, Hunter kisses her on the lips. It’s a brief, dry kiss given what little time they have. “You and Max start for the airport. I’m going to get the others out.”
“Hunter—”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. If I’m not there by the time you get to the airport, you and Max get on the first p
lane you can find, all right?”
“That didn’t work so well the last time.”
“I’m serious, Casey. Just try to get these kids out of here. Tell Max to go to Davis-Monthan outside Tucson. There’s a guy named Jimmy DiMarco running things. Tell him I sent you. He might not let you stay long, but he’ll probably let you land and get some supplies.”
“OK.” She kisses him a lot harder and more passionately. “That’s in case I don’t see you for a few more months.”
Then she hops up into the truck to scoop Polly up. Hunter takes his AK-47 off to hand it to her for protection; he just hopes she won’t need it.
***
The nearest vehicle Hunter can find is an old Vespa motor scooter. He’s sure he must look pretty ridiculous riding the scooter while wearing a flak jacket with an assault rifle on his shoulder. Despite this, no one bothers to stop him as he makes his way through the city’s grid of streets, towards the motel where Sylvia and the other servants live.
When he gets there, he finds a pair of guards already down on the ground. He recognizes some of the servants piling into a bus. Someone shouts a warning, bringing Sylvia around the front of the bus, an AK-47 in her hands. Hunter lifts his hands and then says, “Don’t shoot! I’m here to rescue you. At least that was the plan.”
“We got things under control already,” Sylvia says. To his relief, she lowers the rifle. “Heard you made a mess of things during your baptism.”
“It was supposed to be an execution—my execution. Had to flip the script on that.”
“Good idea.”
“I’ve already got Casey and the kids on a truck to the airport with a friend of mine. He’s a pilot too, so he can fly you out of here. Just get to the airport and hook up with them. Get on the first cargo plane you can find.”
“What about you?”
“I have to go find the threes.”
She nods to him. “Good luck. That place is literally a fortress.”
“I know. But we can’t leave them here.”
“Right. If I don’t see you, it was nice working with you.”
“You too.” He gives her a little wave and then he turns the scooter around to head for the old LDS office building in Temple Square.
He’s not surprised to find a barricade complete with tanks barring the way to the square. This is the headquarters of the church, the center of Utopia. Reverend Shelley is probably in there somewhere, along with Friese and that traitor JP. If Hunter could get inside one of the M1A1s, he would bring down the temple and all the other buildings in the square. Then he’d drive over the wreckage until it was pulverized into dust.
Before he can hope to give in to that fantasy of revenge, he needs to find the women Shelley has kidnapped and hidden inside. He rolls to a stop in front of the barricade to let the guards check him out. “Real cute ride you got there,” a guard says with a chuckle.
“It was the best I could find,” Hunter says.
“You got a pass to go inside?”
“No. Since when do I need a pass?”
“What, you some kind of big shot? Hey, Bruce, check out the princess on her scooter thinking she can just waltz right in.”
“Yeah, really, sweetheart, where do you think you’re going?”
“Ha ha, guys,” Hunter grumbles. “I’ve got a message for Major Friese. You going to let me deliver it or not?”
“Why don’t they just use the radio?”
“Because those schmucks out there could have taken a radio. They could be dressed up like one of us for all we know.”
The guards look to each other and then shrug. “OK, so where’s the message?”
“I didn’t write it down. I got it all up here,” Hunter says, tapping his helmet.
“All right, fine. Go on through. Major Friese is in the admin building.”
“Thanks, guys. Keep up the good work.” Hunter flips them the bird after he rides the scooter through the barricade. He winds his way past more tanks and armored cars. Sylvia was right about this being a fortress. He doesn’t have any idea how he can get a bunch of women out of here; he doesn’t expect he can walk them out like the kids at the university.
He stops the scooter in front of the gray cube across from the far more elaborate temple. The cube is the real hub of the church, where Friese and the others handle the administrative tasks; it’s probably where they planned the attack on Snowcap Mountain.
There are a couple of guards in full body armor barring the front doors. Hunter gives them a wide berth to look for another way in. After a full survey of the grounds, he finds a side entrance with a single guard who doesn’t seem all that interested in his job.
Hunter strolls up to the guy, trying to look as casual as possible. “Hey, buddy, you got a cigarette? I really need something to take the edge off.”
“Yeah, I got one,” the guard says. He starts to fumble around in his pockets for a pack of cigarettes. While he’s distracted, Hunter shoves him hard against the door. The man staggers around for a moment and then collapses to the ground. Hunter searches his pockets, ignoring the cigarettes in favor of a keycard.
Unlike the Grand America, the computer locks here seem to be working well enough. Hunter swipes the keycard over the mechanism and then waits a heart-rending moment for the clunk to indicate the lock has slid aside. With a sigh of relief he pulls the door open.
The hallway he enters is empty for the moment. There’s a directory of offices by the elevator, but of course there’s nothing to indicate where prisoners might be held. Sylvia said they were being held in the basement, so that’s probably the place to go.
He stabs the button for the elevator and then waits. And waits. A couple of minutes go by, during which he fidgets uncomfortably, waiting for someone to notice the guard he knocked out to get in here or just to ask him what he’s doing by the elevators.
The doors finally part to let him inside. He’s relieved not to find anyone else in the elevator so he doesn’t have to explain where he’s going. That story about a message for Major Friese might work, except he’d probably end up having to actually go see the major and then the jig would be up.
Hunter taps the button for the basement. Nothing happens. He tries again. It still doesn’t do anything. He hits the button for the second floor. That button lights up instantly. Before the elevator can go up, Hunter darts back into the hallway.
He shouldn’t be surprised the basement button is disabled. If they have prisoners down there, they wouldn’t want any curious soul going down there or someone to press the wrong button and go by mistake. The stairs might be a better bet. He really should have tried that from the start.
Like most places, the stairway isn’t far from the elevator. He opens the door and then carefully starts down the stairs. He doesn’t want to make too much noise and spook some trigger-happy guard. As he goes down the stairs, he occasionally glances up at the ceiling to see if there are any cameras watching him. He can’t see any, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.
As he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he comes to a gray metal door. There’s a sign with big red letters saying, “Authorized Personnel Only.” He ignores this to touch his keycard to the mechanism. Nothing happens. That’s not a surprise since he’s definitely not authorized to be down here.
The question now is how he can get through the door. He could try to blow it with a grenade, though even if that worked it would make so much noise that he’d have the whole square coming down on him. If he had a working laptop or tablet he might be able to do something with the lock—
And then Fate lends him a hand. The door opens on its own, a man in a white biohazard suit stepping through. Hunter flattens himself against the side of the doorway. Like trying to get into an apartment building without being buzzed in, he sticks his foot out to keep the door from shutting. Then he slips through the doorway before the biohazard suit guy can notice.
“Holy shit,” Hunter mumbles.
When Sylvia said t
he church had the women prisoner down here, he expected them to be in cells. Or they might all be stuffed in one communal room like the kids at the university. What he finds instead is the stuff of a science-fiction novel.
There are rows of white capsules that give off a coffin vibe. He lets out a breath that turns to steam. He shivers beneath his flak jacket; it must be ten degrees at most in the room. The biohazard suit that other guy was wearing was probably so he could stay warm as well as keeping him from spreading any germs.
Hunter walks over to the nearest of the tubes. There’s a glass window that’s frosted over. He brushes off the frost to see a woman’s face. Her eyes are closed and face relaxed in sleep. There’s a monitor next to the machine that occasionally prints some numbers out: heart rate, blood pressure, and so forth.
She’s not dead; she’s in hibernation. Cryogenically frozen. Hunter hurries over to the next tube to find the same thing. Looking around the room, there are tubes as far as he can see. If each one contains a woman, there must be three hundred women down here.
“What the fuck?” he mumbles.
He continues down the line to check on the other tubes. Each one has another woman inside. They’re all young, late teens or early twenties. From the readings they all seem to be in good shape, at least for now.
Then he brushes aside the frost on a tube and barely holds back a scream. “No. No. It can’t be,” he mumbles.
Inside the tube is a young Asian woman. It has been over two years since he last saw her, but her face is burned in his memory. “Misuko.”
But it can’t be her. She was dead. She had gone to Japan to help with the outbreak. How could she have gotten here? How could Shelley have gotten his hands on her?
Hunter frantically looks around the tube, searching for an off switch or a plug or something to get her out of the tube. When he can’t find anything, he slams his fist against the side of the tube. “Goddamn it!”
Army of the Damned (Sky Ghost #1) Page 21