CHAPTER 24
Keep Your Hair On
THIS MUST BE IT, Kilgore thinks. This building is bigger, more impressive than the rest, and its metal door is bright red. He walks to within a few yards of the building then stops and lays Jamie down on the ground as carefully as he can. Jamie groans softly as his head lolls back against the concrete. At least the Englishman is still alive.
“Sorry, man,” Kilgore whispers. “I need my hands free for this.” He checks that both the chamber and the magazine of his shotgun are empty then loads up with six breaching rounds. These damned things had better be good. He marches up to the door. The lock is old school and heavy duty. Would the rounds really take care of it? It doesn’t seem likely, but this is the only option he has. He stands slightly to one side and presses the muzzle against the door. His finger tightens on the trigger, but in the split second before he fires, a sudden memory flashes into his mind. What had Jamie said about the muzzle? “Oh, man,” Kilgore mutters. He stands back and moves the shotgun’s muzzle so there’s a good six inches of clearance between it and the door. It makes sense. Even though the rounds turn to dust, they’ve got to go somewhere. “Here goes,” he says. The first round makes his ears ring; the blast of the impact mingling with the scream of tortured metal. Kilgore blinks then leans closer to study the damage. The door isn’t punctured, but it does have a deep indentation right next to the lock. It’s not enough, but he has plenty of rounds. He stands back again and fires off the other five shots in rapid succession, grouping his shots around the lock and watching as the door buckles and warps beneath the onslaught. The fifth round punches a jagged hole right through the door, and the sixth makes it larger. Kilgore reloads, but just as he takes aim, a ragged voice cries out from behind him.
“Stop!”
Kilgore turns, pointing his weapon, his finger on the trigger. Someone must’ve sneaked up on him while he was concentrating on the door. But what he sees, stops him in his tracks. Jamie is sitting up, nursing his head: his shoulders hunched in pain, his face pale and drawn.
“Where’s my bloody rifle?” Jamie says.
Kilgore almost laughs out loud. “Jesus Christ, Jamie! I almost blew you away.”
“So I see,” Jamie says, his voice growing a little stronger. “The way I feel, I almost wish you would.”
“Are you OK, man? I know that’s a dumb question, but are you all right? Can you walk?”
“In a minute,” Jamie says. “But listen, you’ve done enough to the door. The lock will be mashed to pieces. A swift kick or two, and it’ll go in.”
Kilgore smiles. “Nice to have you back, man.”
Jamie forces a thin smile. “Thank you. I wouldn’t have made it without you.”
“No problem. You’d have done the same for me. And Dale, he...” Kilgore shakes his head. He doesn’t have the right words.
“I understand,” Jamie says. “I saw the RPG. I guessed he didn’t make it.”
Kilgore takes a steadying breath. “Goddamned GDL bastards. They—”
“It’s not their fault,” Jamie cut in. “They don’t expect anyone to actually come in here. They spend their days patrolling a place most gamers will never even know about. They hang around in the barracks, playing cards and swapping jokes. Every now and then, they cook up a mission and run around the place, firing blanks.” Jamie shakes his head. “It wasn’t difficult to stay out of their way. Dale and I, we were here for quite a while.” He looks down.
Kilgore dips his chin. For the first time, he has a glimpse of what it means to fight alongside someone, to put your life in someone else’s hands and know, without question or doubt, that they’ll do the same for you. “Dale was... he was very...”
“He was a good man,” Jamie says. “And he was as tough as old boots. So who knows? Maybe back in the real world, his mind and body are strong enough to pull him through.” He smiles. “I wouldn’t put it past him to outlive us all.”
Kilgore pictures Dale in real life. He’ll be a grizzled veteran. The kind of man who commands respect just by walking into a room. It’s a nice thought, and so much better than the alternatives. “I don’t know,” he says, “but I sure hope you’re right.”
“Agreed. But we’d better get moving.” Jamie starts struggling to his feet, and Kilgore goes over to lend him a hand. Jamie’s leg wound is bad, and he certainly can’t put any weight on it.
“I need to get you a medikit,” Kilgore says.
“Good idea. But are you going to stand here chatting, or are you going to kick the damned door in?”
“All right,” Kilgore says. “Keep your hair on—isn’t that what you Brits say?”
Jamie rolls his eyes. “Give me strength. If you don’t get on with it, I’ll kick it down myself. Just get me over there, would you?”
Kilgore walks Jamie over to the door and helps him to lean against the wall.
“You go ahead,” Jamie says. “I’ll follow as fast as I can. Do not wait for me. If you find a medikit, bring it back so I can back you up. If you can’t find a medikit...”
“I’ll come back and get you.”
“Not necessarily,” Jamie says. “I’m a liability until I can get patched up. It’s better for you to concentrate on getting the hell out of here. If you get a chance, take it.”
Kilgore shakes his head slowly. “Like I said, one way or another, I’ll come back and get you.”
Jamie gives him a grin. “Awkward sod! Now get a bloody move on, for god’s sake.”
Kilgore squares up to the door, judging the distance, then lashes out with a savage kick. The door rattles and judders but hardly shifts. Kilgore kicks out again. This time, something screeches within the lock, and the door grates against its frame. Another kick, and the door flies inward, crashing back against the wall and sending a dull boom to echo and roll along the empty corridor beyond.
“Good lad,” Jamie says. “Now check your weapon, and move in.”
“Yes, Sir,” Kilgore says. He hurriedly loads his shotgun with regular slugs, then he gives Jamie a nod and steps into the corridor.
CHAPTER 25
Hell of a Time To Start
THE MESSAGE ON MERVIN’S HUD IS BRIGHT RED. He stops walking and stares at the bold letters, his mouth hanging open.
SECURITY BREACH: INCURSION CENTRAL ONE
For a full second, Mervin waits for the message to disappear, expecting the sound of raucous laughter in his earpiece as some of the guys enjoy the joke at his expense. But no. The message remains. Mervin’s mind races. Could this be a technical glitch? Maybe it’s somehow linked to the problems with the comm link. But there are no system error messages, no other warnings. He has to treat it as a real incursion. He exhales noisily and breaks into a run, checking his weapon as he moves.
TARGET LOCATED
Mervin checks the threat detection display in his HUD. There. The target is way across the building at the other end of the central corridor. It looks like a single soldier, though at this range, he can’t be sure—it could easily be more. Whoever they are, they’ve breached the main door. “How the hell did they get past the barracks?” Mervin mutters. But that’s a question for later. The only thing that counts now is stopping the bastards before they get any farther. Mervin picks up the pace, and the dull, gentle drumbeat of his footsteps reverberates eerily in the sterile emptiness of the tiled corridor. The intruders won’t hear him from this distance, but it’s a lonely sound. I shouldn’t deal with this on my own, Mervin thinks, and he activates his comm link. “This is Central One patrol. I’ve got a breach. Request assistance. Repeat. This is Central One patrol reporting a breach. I’m on my own here. I need backup right now.”
There’s no response.
Mervin jogs to a halt. “Repeat, this is Central One. Main door is compromised. Request urgent assistance.” He waits, counting out five long seconds just to be sure. But there’s no reply—not even a hiss of static to let him know the voice channel is active. He grunts in frustration. There’s n
o point in trying again. The comm link is totally screwed. “Aw, to hell with it,” he mutters. It’s probably just one soldier anyway: a gamer who got lucky. It’s nothing he can’t deal with. One bullet, and the whole thing will be over. Even so, he can’t help but wonder how the hell someone got into Central One. Unless... unless it’s one of the guys from his own outfit going crazy. It wouldn’t be the first time someone cracked up in the game and ran amok. But no. That doesn’t make any sense. The members of Mervin’s outfit all have security clearance for this building. If one of the guys came in through the door, it wouldn’t have shown up as an incursion.
Mervin checks his rifle. It’s a good rifle, and he’s a good shot: one of the best in the outfit, according to Paul. But that’s in training exercises when they override the parameters and set the rounds to non-lethal. He hasn’t fired a shot in anger since he joined the game. One hell of a time to start.
“They’re relying on you, Merv,” he mutters, and the weight of those words settles on him, like a firm hand pressing down on his shoulders. The security of Central One hangs in the balance, and he must not let Paul down. This is the first real threat he’s faced since he joined the GDL, and it’s a test, not just of his skill as a soldier, but of his courage.
Whoever the intruders are, they’ll be shooting to kill. No overrides in here. No soft options. And it looks like he’ll have no backup. He really has no choice but to tackle them head on. No choice at all.
Mervin pulls himself up to his full height and breathes deep. “OK, Mervin,” he murmurs. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
CHAPTER 26
Beggars Can’t Be Choosers
KILGORE STEPS CAUTIOUSLY INTO THE CORRIDOR. It’s long and empty, its walls painted in a nondescript light-gray, its ceiling white and its floor covered with dark ceramic tiles. He holds his gun ready and creeps forward, placing his feet carefully, his boots hardly making any sound on the smooth floor. The corridor is lined with doors, and Kilgore approaches the first one carefully. It’s featureless except for a steel push plate and a small plastic sign engraved with the number 285. There are no clues as to what the room might contain. He presses against the door, but it doesn’t budge. He quickly scans the area with his HUD and reveals the hidden keypad on the left of the door, but before he can engage AIPR0N’S security interface, a shout interrupts his thoughts.
“What the hell are you mucking about with that for?”
Kilgore looks back to the doorway. Jamie is there, leaning heavily against the damaged door frame, and he’s in a bad way, his face haggard, pinched in pain.
“I’m looking for a medikit,” Kilgore says. “You need help right now.”
Jamie shakes his head. “That’s not the way forward. The best chance of us both staying alive is for our mission to succeed. You’ve got to move on. You can’t search every room.”
“But—”
“No arguments on this one, Kilgore. Move on. What room are you meant to be looking for? What is your primary objective?”
Kilgore hesitates. If he doesn’t give Jamie the room number that Will told him to look for, then there’s not a lot the Englishman can do about it. But Kilgore pushes the thought away. Jamie’s on his side, and he seems very sure of himself, as if he already has a handle on the situation. It would be stupid not to listen to him. “OK. Will said I need to find a room labeled zero, zero, one. And judging by the numbers here, we’re in the wrong part of the building.”
“Good,” Jamie says. He pushes himself away from the door frame. “But that’s not our primary objective.”
“What? I don’t—”
“That room and its mythical key are Will’s objectives, but we mustn’t let him lead us down the garden path. We want something else entirely. We want to find a place where we can log out—nothing else.”
Kilgore nods thoughtfully. “Sure. You’re right, but how do we know what to look for? You said yourself we can’t check every room.”
“Yes. I’ve been thinking about that. You said Will brought you in because of your HUD, yes?”
“That’s right.”
“And this HUD, it can pick up what exactly?” Jamie asks.
“Hidden objects, secret panels. I can look inside a lot of things, but I can’t see through doors and walls. I never quite got that part figured out.”
“I see. Could it pick out an area where there’s a lot of electronic equipment being used?”
“Definitely. There’s always an electromagnetic field. And I’ve got thermal imaging too. It’s quite sensitive so... oh, I see where you’re going with this.”
“Good lad. The place we’re looking for will probably be some sort of control and command center. The sort of room that’s bristling with screens, comm links, computers and so on. And all those devices will be running all the time. The place will be positively buzzing with juice.”
“Got it,” Kilgore says. “I’ll set it up now.”
But as soon as he focuses on his HUD, a message flashes up:
AIPR0N: THREAT DETECTED
HOSTILE INFANTRY INBOUND
“Crap!” Kilgore hisses. “GDL—on their way.”
Jamie draws his handgun from the holster on his hip. “Dammit! I should never have lost my rifle. Never mind. Beggars can’t be choosers.”
Kilgore raises his eyebrows. This guy is either very brave or the craziest man alive. But there’s no time to second-guess the Englishman’s plan. If Jamie wants to stand and fight, Kilgore has no choice but to stand by his side. He checks his threat indicator.
“It looks like it’s just one or two soldiers. Probably a patrol,” Kilgore says. “They’re heading this way, moving fast.”
Jamie leans against the wall and takes aim along the corridor with his handgun. “Where are they?”
“They’re coming in at an angle. They must be in the parallel corridor.” Kilgore raises his shotgun. “They’ll be here within a minute.”
CHAPTER 27
Surprise Is Everything
AS MERVIN TAKES A LEFT TURN into a connecting corridor, the target selector in his HUD suddenly alters, splitting the single dot into two discrete targets. “I knew it,” Mervin mutters. Deep down, he knew there was no way one man could make it this far on his own. But there’s a downside to being right: He now has two problems to resolve instead of one. Only two of them, he tells himself. Two is easy. After all, he has the element of surprise on his side as well as the home turf advantage. He runs harder, pushing himself to gain momentum. He’s got to hit the intruders hard and fast before they have time strengthen their position. If he can catch them in the main corridor, it should be easy to take them both down at once, but if the targets split up or find some cover, it could be too risky to tackle them on his own.
Mervin pictures the possible scenarios, running through each outcome in his mind. He’s outnumbered two to one. There’s no room for error, no time for even a split second of hesitation. “You can do it, Mervin,” he whispers.
His targeting selectors change from red to green. Finally. The intruders are within range. They’re at the far end of the adjoining corridor. He slows his pace, treading as softly as he can. Sounds travels all too easily in the empty corridors, and surprise is everything.
CHAPTER 28
Pick up the Pace
“THIS IS STUPID,” Jamie says. “We’re in no position for a firefight. No cover. I’m wounded. No damned rifle. A couple of half-decent patrolmen will have us for breakfast.”
“So what do you suggest?” Kilgore says, forcing the words from between clenched teeth.
“Withdraw, evade.”
Kilgore fights the urge to look up from the sights of his shotgun. “Are you kidding? They’re almost on us.”
“That door—Room 285—open it,” Jamie says. “Quickly.”
“What?”
“Just do it.”
Kilgore can’t believe he’s even considering this, but there’s an edge of sure-fire conviction in Jamie’s voice that’s hard
to ignore. One thing’s for certain, there’s no time for an argument. The GDL patrol is moving slower now, but even so, he reckons they’ve got about five seconds before they come face to face. He lowers his gun and moves over to the door. He discovered the keypad earlier, and despite the knot of panic tightening in his stomach, the AIPR0N command comes easily to mind. It takes only a second before the lock clicks. He raises his shotgun with one hand and pushes the door wide open with the other. He’s ready to react to any threat, but the room is empty.
“Come on!” Jamie urges as he hobbles across the corridor. “Quickly.” He enters the room without hesitation, and Kilgore follows, closing the door behind him.
“What now?” Kilgore whispers. He looks around the room. It’s nothing more than an empty space: perhaps an unused storage room. There are no alcoves to provide hiding places, no furniture to crouch behind. Nothing. If the patrol guesses where they are, it will be a short fight. Kilgore grabs Jamie’s arm. They should at least go to the back of the room and take up position. “Come on. The patrol—” But he doesn’t finish his sentence. The threat detector in his HUD is suddenly blank.
Mervin is almost at the end of the side corridor, and he moves slowly, shouldering his weapon as he walks. The main corridor is just ahead. All he has to do is take up position at the corner, verify the targets and take them out. He stops short of the corner and tilts his head to the scope.
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