Tabula Rasa

by Kristen Lippert-Martin

“I am coming to get you, but if I need to deal with your soldiers first, I might be a little late.”

  I throw the radio out the next open window and make my way downstairs to get some supplies.

  CHAPTER 38

  I’m now reaping the benefit of the excruciating boredom of my previous existence. All those days of counting floor tiles and doorknob handles, of scoping out which doors are the supply closets and where they keep the linens. I have the home-field advantage now. These soldiers—they’re on my turf.

  The building has again gone dark, but it doesn’t matter. I know my way around. I put Thomas’s headlamp on. Not to give me light—the battery has pretty much given out—but for luck, I guess.

  I head for the east side of the floor, to the surgical procedure rooms. I stop at the medical supply closet and, as I reach for the doorknob, remember that I need to fix my dislocated shoulder first. It’s a very painful prospect, but I get it done. Once, I was climbing a fence and fell off. I remember the nurse at the free clinic resetting my arm. Then she winked at me. I think she knew who I was.

  I find some useful things—a stethoscope, surgical tubing, tape—and use it all to fashion a slingshot. I’m ready now.

  Speed is my advantage here—actually, not so much raw speed as uninterrupted motion. I don’t need to stop and start and move with careful deliberation. I feel myself speeding up or the world around me slowing down. Whichever it is, my thoughts, my actions, are nothing but sure, swift movement. Hearing footsteps coming up the stairs, I pile as many blankets and pillows as possible on top of a gurney and push it in front of the stairwell door. Obviously, it won’t stop the soldiers, but that’s not what I’m trying to do. I just want to obscure their view when they open the fire door.

  I hop up onto the nurses’ station counter, the slingshot in my lap, and let my feet dangle like I’m sitting at the top of a steeple. The soldiers have reached the landing, and they’re about to find out that body armor can sometimes be a disadvantage.

  I hear the doorknob turning, and begin kneading a burn charge in my hand. Then I put it into the slingshot and release it. I hit the first soldier square in the chest as he pushes the pile of blankets out of the way. I shoot a second charge, this time onto his upper thigh. He looks down and realizes what is sticking to him. He tries to bat at the intense white flame, tries to push it off of him, but he knows it won’t work. He steps backward, blocking the guy behind him, and drops his rifle. If he’s quick enough, he may get his body armor off before the burn charge hits his skin, but he’ll be preoccupied while I get rid of his companion.

  I swing my legs over the counter and drop to the floor as the second soldier bursts into the room. I only have two mines left, and I already have plans for at least one. I need him to follow me. Predictably, he sprays the nurses’ station with bullets, but I’m already almost around the corner.

  He doesn’t see me at first, so I stand up and wave. “Hey there!”

  He aims, and I run down the hall into one of the procedure rooms, holding the door open with my foot a moment to make sure he knows where I’ve gone.

  Seconds later he kicks the door in. Here I am, standing in the middle of the empty room, out in the open. I put my hands up. He’s got me.

  “Put your hands behind your head,” he says.

  I do.

  I guess he speaks English, because he doesn’t use his translator when he barks at me.

  After two steps he lurches clumsily to the left. He shakes his head. He looks dizzy. I tilt my head, like I’m concerned, wondering if he needs help. He keeps walking, but his body is growing heavier with each step.

  He hasn’t noticed, but I haven’t drawn a single breath since we entered the room. I don’t need to breathe. It’s like I’ve put everything on pause except my heart. I let that beat. Once. Twice. Enough to keep my blood moving, but only just.

  He sways. His eyelids flutter. Down he goes.

  I stand over him and think about taking his rifle. I’ve done perfectly well without using a gun so far, but I decide to take it anyway. It’s nice to have options.

  Before I leave, I close the nozzles on the tall canisters of anesthetic gas. I don’t take a breath until I’m well clear of the area.

  If what that dying soldier on the sixth floor told me is true, then Hodges is down to two soldiers. 8-Bit’s role in all this is still unclear. I don’t know if he’s helping Hodges or not, but he might be.

  Back in the hallway, I hear the sound of men shouting. I stay low to the floor, well below the glass partitions that divide the hallway from the rec lounge. I know this lounge faces south. That’s where I want to be. At the end of this hallway is another medical supply closet. My last burn charge takes care of the lock. Inside I find several oxygen canisters. I tip them over and push them into the hallway one by one with my foot. They roll noisily along the floor, bumping to a stop against the wall near the rec lounge.

  I need to get to that set of outer windows. The door to the lounge is locked. It always is. The nurses would unlock it, let us in, and then lock it again when we left. But this will not be a problem, especially since the wall is made of glass and I have a rifle.

  I can see the outer windows are cracked but still intact. I fire at the wall. It shatters. I fire again, taking out the windows. The men are coming. I drop the rifle, get a running start, and dive through the broken glass wall into the lounge. I roll and stand up.

  Just as the soldiers arrive, I throw one of my two remaining mines back into the hallway, toward the oxygen canisters. The soldiers raise their rifles to shoot me. I clear my throat and point. Then I watch their faces as they look down and realize that they can either kill me or save themselves.

  Climbing out the window, I balance momentarily on the narrow ledge, then let go and drop. I have no idea what they ultimately decide. All I hear is a really big boom.

  CHAPTER 39

  I slip eight or ten feet before reaching for the trellis on the side of the building, screaming as I get a handhold. I never realized that these pretty, fluttering pieces of foil are razor sharp. As I cling to the trellis, they spin in the wind like a thousand coppery buzz saws. They easily cut through the fabric of my pants, and the palms of my hands are slashed where I’m trying to hold on.

  I need to load the slingshot, which means letting go for a moment and leaning into the rotating razor blades to keep myself from falling. Trying to get the last mine out of my pocket, I lean too close to the wall and get a nick on the end of my nose and one on my cheek.

  I can see the helicopter about fifty yards away. The helipad is free of snow. I guess it must be heated.

  The shot I need to make is a difficult and long one. If I arc it up into the air, the mine may land near enough to the helicopter that the magnetic force will pull it the rest of the way. I’ll have to shoot the mine immediately after I twist it; otherwise, it will detonate in midair. I have no illusions. This has little chance of working, but I don’t want Hodges getting away before I have a chance to kill her.

  As I’m setting up the shot, I realize that there’s no way I’ll be able to hang on and pull the slingshot back far enough to reach the helipad. I’ll have to let go in order to get a shot off. And once I do, I won’t be able to grab back on again. This shot will be a one-way trip.

  I can’t waste any more time thinking. Leaning back against the trellis, I feel the foil cut into my back and legs in a dozen places, but I ignore the pain. I twist the mine and quickly load it into the slingshot. Just as I’m about to release the trellis, I hear a distant shot, then feel something hit me in the side. I drop the slingshot, and the mine zooms toward the metal trellis and clings there.

  My last thought as I watch the ground speeding toward me is that I need to flip if I can. The mine explodes. I feel bits of metal bite into me. I force my head down and feel myself somersaulting in the air. If I land flat on my back, I may survive this fall.

  That’s assuming I’m not already dead by the time I hit the ground.
<
br />   I won’t let myself lose consciousness. I keep my body limp as they drag me up the steps and back into the lobby. I’m fairly sure my right lung has collapsed. It just feels not there, not useful.

  They say that your whole life flashes before your eyes when you’re dying, but that’s not happening for me. Maybe it’s because I don’t have much to remember, or maybe it’s because I won’t let myself remember anything. Remembering won’t do me any good right now. Thinking about the here and now will.

  I’ve slowed my heart rate down, and though I know I could speed it back up again, bleed out, and leave this world behind, I won’t.

  I am way, way too angry to die.

  The soldiers drag me across the debris field of the lobby, and I open my eyes just enough to figure out where they’re taking me—the Director’s office.

  They lay me on the floor at Hodges’s feet like a prize, right next to the desk chair where 8-Bit is tied up. I keep my eyes slightly open, with just a sliver of iris showing. I figure that makes me look a little more dead.

  8-Bit’s lower lip looks like a cooked sausage that’s burst out of its casing. There is dried blood caked in his nostrils. He’s tall like his son, mostly legs. His hair is gray at the temples, and his eyes are the same black-brown as Thomas’s.

  “Is she dead?” Hodges asks.

  “Yes,” a mechanical voice responds.

  “Are you sure? She faked it before. Check her carefully.”

  The soldier puts his hand over my mouth and pinches my nose shut, closing off my air for almost a minute. I do not react. This seems to satisfy her.

  “How did it happen?”

  “She was climbing up the side of the building when we shot her. She fell about forty feet.”

  Hodges bursts out laughing. “The angel has fallen. I love it!” She abruptly stops celebrating. “Can you survive a forty-foot fall?”

  “How would I know?” 8-Bit says. “Ask a member of the medical staff. Oh wait, you can’t. Because you shot them all.”

  Hodges won’t come near me. She has one of the soldiers unzip the coat I’m wearing, Thomas’s coat. He rolls me back and forth as he rifles through all my pockets. As I rock to one side, I see Thomas lying on the couch next to me. His skin and hair are damp with sweat, and he’s taking rapid, shallow breaths, but he’s still alive.

  I feel the soldier’s hand probe the inner coat pocket. He removes the flash drive. “Found it.”

  Hodges is still wearing her coat, but she’s shivering. Her hair is looking a little greasy and disheveled. Obviously, she hadn’t planned on staying this long. She sits down heavily on the chaise next to Dr. Buckley’s desk. She’s holding something in her lap. Something heavy and sparkly. It’s a crystal candy dish just like the one I saw in the South Wing reception area, with an E.C. etched into it.

  She plunks it down so hard on the desk, I think she must have cracked it.

  “Aw, what’s the matter, Ev?” 8-Bit says. “You seem disappointed. This is the girl you’ve been hunting, and now she’s been killed in cold blood, at your direction. I’d think this would be such a proud moment for you.”

  “Shut up, David. She deserved what she got.”

  8-Bit looks down at me and sighs. “Somehow I doubt that.”

  Hodges walks over to the soldier holding the flash drive. “Give me that.” She snatches it away from him before he has a chance to comply with her order.

  “I hope you got your money’s worth out of this whole operation,” 8-Bit says.

  “I did.” Hodges closes her fingers around the flash drive. “And I’ll be able to tell Mr. Claymore that despite the unfortunate events at the Center, we were able to recover Wilson’s research data.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Thomas is a smart kid. I’m sure he encrypted those files. And he’s in no condition to tell us what the password is right now.”

  Hodges walks toward the couch and looks down at Thomas. She crosses her arms, then turns around suddenly. “So you’ll hack it for me.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  She walks slowly up to 8-Bit and gets right into his face. “Yes. You. Will.”

  “Sorry. Unlike your mercenaries here, I’m not going to accommodate your every ruthless whim. Guess you hired the wrong guy.”

  “Believe me, had I known I was hiring you, I would’ve saved myself the trouble and shot you instead.”

  8-Bit gives a tired, bitter laugh. Hodges begins spinning her bracelets and pacing.

  “You know, David, I have to admit I’m impressed. You were always brilliant. But you were also sloppy—lazy even. Without an ounce of cunning. Yet here you’ve managed to engineer quite the opportunity to settle a grudge. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  “Well, you were my wife. And when I got caught, you let me rot in a foreign jail cell. Then, after telling me that I had a son, you didn’t let me see him. Not to mention that whole giving him up for adoption after having me declared legally dead thing. I guess all I really needed was the proper motivation.”

  Hodges flicks her hand toward Thomas. Her bracelets jingle as they collect on her wrist. “Was that the point of bringing him along? You thought I’d take one look at him and melt?”

  “I just thought you should see him.”

  Hodges slaps 8-Bit across the face. “It was a mean thing to do.”

  “I guess we’re even then.”

  “We’re far from even. I still haven’t decided what even is going to mean for you.”

  Thomas moans and twitches. I see his fingers curl and uncurl, like he’s trying to grab for something. It’s all I can do to not reach up and touch his hand so he knows I’m still alive.

  8-Bit says, “Look, do whatever you want with me, but let Thomas go. You did it once before.”

  Hodges paces faster now. A few times she steals glances at Thomas. She stops suddenly and stands over me, then pushes my head back and forth with her high heel. I keep my neck loose to make my “death” more convincing. This is the chance I’ve been hoping for. I let my hand fall to the floor and keep my forefinger extended.

  One.

  On.

  I’m alive.

  I hope 8-Bit sees. I hope he understands. I just need more time to think.

  A mercenary comes in and Hodges is momentarily distracted by something he’s saying, something about a helicopter being deiced and not yet ready to go. She dismisses him, walks back across the room, and then sits down on Buckley’s desk.

  8-Bit clears his throat. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing that concerns you.”

  I feel him press his foot to my hand, and I push back slightly, hoping he’ll feel that I’m resisting. That I haven’t given up yet.

  “You made a mistake, you know,” 8-Bit says. “A big one.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Sorry, but this raid sort of proves that you did. I’m sure Erskine Claymore prefers to have his employees deal with messy problems discreetly. Not with guns and rockets and high body counts. So, come on. I can help you identify your error. I’m good at finding bugs and glitches. I’ll even waive my usual consultation fee.”

  “No, thanks.”

  He gestures toward me with his head. “All this just to kill one girl? It shouldn’t have been necessary. Not unless …”

  Hodges glares at him. I can tell she doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of asking what he means.

  “Not unless you needed to cover something up. Yes, that’s it. You couldn’t just bust in here and kill the girl. That would’ve raised a lot of questions. No, you had to wipe out everything and everyone to make it look like maybe some foreign country had done it. But what would you be hiding? And from whom?”

  Hodges looks at 8-Bit, her face like stone. After a moment, she chisels out a smile.

  “You don’t want to tell me, Ev? That’s fine. I understand. I’ll tell you instead. I’ve read all the resear
ch files on Velocius. I’ve read all your email exchanges, all the texts you’ve sent. Everything. I might as well have hacked into your soul these last few months.”

  “Then you’d already know why she had to die.”

  “Because she’s Erskine Claymore’s daughter? Yeah, I figured that one out already. So what?”

  “She’s not Erskine Claymore’s daughter. She’s—”

  Hodges clenches her jaw. She and 8-Bit stare at each other and then his expression begins to change. He nods in recognition.

  “Virgil. She’s Virgil’s daughter, isn’t she? Virgil, who’s now your fiancé. Congratulations, by the way. I saw the announcement in the Times a while back. Hope you’ll keep me in mind if you need someone to walk you down the aisle.”

  I feel 8-Bit flick his boot against my fingers again. Hodges is seething now. She walks past and kicks my hand out of her way.

  “I was surprised to learn about the engagement, of course,” 8-Bit says. “Not upset, mind you, just surprised. I mean, how did you get close to Virgil Claymore in the first place? He’s got ALS—Lou Gehrig’s disease, or whatever. He’s been homebound for years. I didn’t think he could even communicate.”

  Hodges walks up to one of the soldiers and adjusts her hair in the reflection of the soldier’s goggles. Then she turns around and smirks.

  “The translator,” 8-Bit says. “I read about that in one of your project files.”

  “Claymore Industries adapted the military technology in this,” Hodges says, pointing to the mouthpiece covering the lower half of the soldier’s face. “They developed a device that could translate Virgil’s brain wave patterns into spoken words. Claymore could have made millions off it if he’d wanted to, but he decided to keep it in the family.”

  “An ever-shrinking family. There aren’t many members of the Claymore clan left, are there?”

  Hodges tenses and turns her head away to look toward the office door. She seems eager get going, but things aren’t moving fast enough. Or maybe something’s wrong.

  “Let’s see if I remember my Claymore family history. It’s a sad story about very rich and powerful people. There were four children originally, right? The oldest son died in a boating accident. The older daughter was strangled by her boyfriend, and the younger one pulled into the family garage with the engine running and fell asleep at the wheel.… That left Virgil, the sole surviving Claymore heir. Feel free to jump in and correct me if I get the facts wrong, Ev. I’m sure you know the Claymores intimately at this point.”