*
"Sarah," Monica called. She crested the hill and stopped for a second, her heart sinking. Moonlight shone on the van, sandwiched between a tree and the police car, about half its normal length. "Oh Sarah." Monica felt her eyes well up with tears as she ran down the slight incline toward the two cars. No fire. Not yet anyway. Thank God for that. The red and blue strobe of light flashed in her face as she ran past the police car and to the front of the van. The only sound was the crackling of cooling metal.
She tried to look in, but the front of the van was twisted around the tree and there wasn't enough space to see inside the smashed windshield. She yanked at the door handle. Didn't budge. "Oh Sarah," she sighed again. She turned back to the police car. Tears welled up in her eyes. Everything going blurry in the moonlight. She wiped her eyes and pressed her face against the glass. The dark form slumped in the seat stirred. Maybe he was alright and could help her get Sarah out. She yanked the door handle.
Monica jumped back as the cop shook his head. His eyes snapped open and he swung his legs out of the car along with the barrel of a rifle that'd been sitting on his lap.
"Are you..."
He groaned, his eyes blinking up to her.
"You aren't a policeman." That's it Monica, now tell him something he doesn't know. She took a step back. "YOU?"
His eyes snapped open, focused. Monica glanced around. Nothing but open around her. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. The light of recognition flashed in his eyes at the same time he raised the barrel of the rifle.
Years of childhood and high school soccer curled her toes involuntarily just as the top of her bare foot made contact with his face. Kick through the ball, or head. Some distant coach's words flitted through her mind as the satisfying crack of his nose'd transmitted itself up her leg and his head'd snapped back. She was shocked to find that she hoped she'd killed him as blood spurted from under her foot. "Eew." His head bounced against the car as Monica reeled back, caught herself, and swung around to race toward the top of the hill.
"You bitch." His words chased Monica seconds before the crack of the shot rang out behind her. She heard, felt something like a giant mosquito buzz past her ear, spurring her up the hill. If she could just get over the crest.
She braced for another shot as she threw herself over the top of the hill and rolled down the other side, but it didn't come. She rolled about halfway down, rode her momentum back to her feet, and kept running, her ankle throbbing but only slowing her a little. Nothing like imminent death to set your perspective on a little pain. Where the hell was she? Fields and woods. It looked vaguely familiar but she... No. I mean yes. She could place it. Lights in the distance gleamed over a corner too straight not to be man made. She was on the compound. A couple of hundred meters from the headquarters building. What were the mission parameters? Maybe they had to return on the grass because they were in a moving car. She hadn't been part of that planning. But if that was it shouldn't there be a team waiting? A grunt behind her brought her mind back to the problem at hand. She glanced over her shoulder. He stood at the top of the hill, framed in the moonlight. He lifted his arm, lowered it again without another shot, but the sight spurred her on. She had to get to the building. Get someone to come back and help her find Sarah. Before it was too...
The blast of the explosion sent her staggering even though it was too far back for the concussion to've reached her. "Oof." She went down into the grass and rolled to her back. The light of the fire shone behind the hill, throwing its rounded top into sharp relief.
"Oh Sarah." Monica felt her eyes well up with tears and for a second she sat frozen in the grass, too sick with despair to react to the fact that the explosion hadn't thrown her pursuer to the ground. He'd slowed and turned, but was now limping down the hill after her. And all she could do was sit and watch him come.
"Hello Monica."
She turned to the voice and felt herself lifted to her feet.
"I really don't think we should wait." Dutch began moving toward the building with a grip on Monica's arm. She felt herself pulled faster and faster, running in spite of herself.
"Dutch," she panted as she tried to keep up with his effortless lope on her sore ankle. Thank God for high school cross country and running through pain. It flashed through her mind that she'd never seen Dutch run before. "We've got to get back for Sarah."
"I really can't advise it at the current time Monica," he answered as they reached the building. A square of ground parted and Monica followed Dutch down a short escalator to a door.
"What's this? There's a door here?"
"Dr. Ted installed them."
"Them? There's more than one?"
The ground slid back in place behind them as the door opened and they stepped inside. The door slid closed and Monica bent forward, hands on her knees, catching her breath. "I have to say Monica that I'm not sure you're engaging in sufficient athletic activity. I don't actually have to say..."
"Dutch," she panted. "Sarah could be hurt, or..."
But Dutch was already walking down the hall.
"Where are you going? Sarah..."
"I have a little errand first," he said over his shoulder.
"Well I'm going back for Sarah." She turned and walked to the door. "Open." But it stayed closed in front of her. "Why won't the door open?" She looked for a retinal scanner but there was nothing around the door but blank wall.
"Oh Monica," Dutch said with a smile. He walked back to her and took her wrist. She tried to pull away but his hand was like a vise. She found herself being led down the hall. "I've prioritized Sarah appropriately. First there's something I need to do." He frowned. "And then I'm afraid I'm going to need your help."
"My help? Let go Dutch. Ow." She felt herself pulled down a narrow hallway. The lights came on in front of them and went out after they passed so they walked in a small, moving island of light. They reached a door. It opened to a small elevator. "Where are we?"
"Just here," he said and pulled her inside. They rode down for several seconds before the elevator stopped and the door opened. They followed a wider corridor, and this time Monica noticed that one wall was sloped in instead of out.
"This is one of the secret hallways around the building?"
Dutch put a finger in front of his lips. "It's a secret," he giggled. He stopped in front of another door. He let her go.
She rubbed her wrist and looked around. "A back door to the file room? What's in the file room?"
"Verma."
"Verma? Is he meeting us?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"Then why doesn't he come out?" Something about Dutch's grin and pointed finger sent a shiver down her spine. Her eyes shot at the door and back to Dutch. "Dutch, is he..."
"Verma was always on the surveillance system. It would've been impossible to neutralize it. And then there were the security guards. He was always telling them what to do. I never could've sent them away without him objecting. And then there was an odd ambiguity in my decision making because Verma was head of security. This solution just came to me." He smiled. "I'd never thought of it before. I went through my entire decision making sequence twice and couldn't find an objection. It simplified everything."
"You mean he... " she recoiled a step, "...you..."
"Now don't move," Dutch admonished as the door swished open. He disappeared inside.
Monica stared at the closed door for a second, turned, and ran limping down the hall. But where? What's down here? She ran to the end of the hall and stopped in front of the elevator door. It opened.
She stared at it as she heard Dutch come out of the file room. He turned and looked down the hallway at her, something in his hand.
Monica slipped into the elevator and the doors closed. "Atrium." But when the doors opened again she found herself in the narrow hall they'd been in earlier. Must be the corridor around level one. She followed the hall because she couldn't think of anything b
etter to do until a door opened. With a last glance down the hall she stepped inside.
*
Sarah shook her head but the dull throbbing didn't go away. It took her a few seconds to realize that she'd been pulled back to reality by a second crash. The hand she pushed herself up with rested on something hard. The rock she'd found with her head. She held the rock up and rubbed the pain with her other hand. Stretched her neck and looked at it in the moonlight. No blood. She tossed it onto the grass and turned her attention to the scene in front of her at the crack of the shot.
"Go Monica," she croaked as Monica's foot must've connected. She cleared her throat. Shook her head. That bounce against the rock must've been harder than she'd thought.
"You bitch," she heard the cop, cop? yell as Monica ran up the hill, chased by a shot. The cop pulled himself to his feet and followed her up the hill. What was he doing here? Must've followed them through the closed timeline curve.
"Bitch huh," Sarah muttered as she pushed herself up. "Shouldn't've wasted time on his head. Should've kicked him where it'd hurt." She stood, reeled as everything went dark. She lurched a couple of steps, caught herself, swayed, waited for the moonlight to push its way back through the black that'd swallowed her. Her eyes just cleared as the explosion shook the night around her.
The van was engulfed in flames. That's right. Those things were filled with gasoline and didn't have fire retardant systems. Sarah watched the fire, mesmerized, for a few seconds before shaking reality back into her head. Where was she? At the bottom of a small depression. She couldn't see anything around her except the burning van and the police car. Monica and the cop'd disappeared over the top of the hill.
Nothing to do here. And now that she was back, and in one piece, she had people waiting for her. They just didn't know it yet.
"Surprise," she muttered. She wiped the dirt off of her hands and followed Monica and the cop up the hill.
7
Sarah realized where she was as soon as she'd crested the hill. The walk to the building had cleared her head and she felt a renewed sense of purpose as she strode down the halls, her heels clacking against the floor. Thank God Ted'd embedded those doors in the ground so she didn't have to walk in the front. But why'd the thing opened? You need a code to open those things and she didn't have a screen projector. That cell phone she'd rigged up had disappeared in the wild van ride through the closed timeline curve. So how'd she gotten in? Have to worry about that later. First order of business is a screen projector. No retinal scanners on these corridors. Whatever it was that'd opened that door in the grass, well she couldn't depend on all of them doing that.
So her office. The door at the bottom of the short escalator opened too and she walked up to a door that led from the narrow hallway to level one and that one opened. That's weird. Could Ted have changed something so you could get around down here without a screen projector? No retinal scanners like on the normal floors. Only Ted, Sarah and Dutch could project codes to get into these corridors surrounding the normal floors. The door closed behind her. Well don't look a gift horse in the mouth. She looked around. The guest quarter level. Where that terrorist was. Pay the killer a visit? Not yet. He had to get in line. She reached the elevator put her eye against the retinal scanner. She stepped in.
"Level zero." Level zero? Why's she going to level zero? Her office is on level three. She rode the elevator up through the atrium. No guard at the desk. Another odd thing. The elevator stopped at level zero and she stepped out.
How could she've done it? Pruitt didn't surprise her. Nothing Pruitt could do would surprise her unless he started reading to the blind. Pruitt's a man and even in that lame group he shone for the asshole he is. But Agnes? She isn't malicious, which meant she must've been manipulated. Worse than malicious. Pathetic.
The chair behind Louise's desk was empty. Everyone must be at the launch. The first one. It'd been a diversion after all. She'd figured that she must've gone and come back before she'd left when she'd realized her car shouldn't've been gone for service on Thursday. Her appointment was for Friday. No one else could've taken that car. Not with the anti theft system she'd rigged up. Their return must've caused the diversion that killed...well, put that aside for now.
The door to Agnes's inner office opened and Sarah walked inside. The office was empty as well. She walked behind the desk and sat down. They'd gotten Ted's name off the door but hadn't moved his xylophones and glockenspiels. They lined the walls like a forlorn herd of headless animals. She drummed her fingers on the desk. Options. First of all, what time is it? If they'd diverted Veronica then it must be around six in the morning. She should've figured Agnes wouldn't be here and what was the point of looking for her anyway? Plenty of time to deal with her after she'd taken care of Justin. Justin. The thought made her stomach sink. She shook her head. She'd been right in the first place. Get a screen projector.
She stood, her palms under the desk, and looked down in shock as the desk flipped over in front of her. Realized the person screaming was her. She fell back into the chair and burst into tears. Justin. Dad? Justin? The way she'd treated that geek. If she'd only known. Well she didn't have to let it happen. She wouldn't let it happen.
She burst out of the chair and ran to Agnes's bathroom. Washed her face, stood with her hands on the sink and glared at the dripping face in the mirror. Was Monica right? That this wasn't playing with fire, it was playing with nuclear weapons? If she did it what would happen? What would happen to her? She stared into the eyes staring back from the mirror. Asked herself whether she could do it but already knew the answer.
She shot hot air to dry her face and ran out of the bathroom, past the overturned desk, stopped. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of her scratch and sniffs. At least she thought of them as her scratch and sniffs, but they could actually be activated a number of ways. She bent over and stuck the pile of them against the inner part of the desk so they'd activate after it was turned back over. She touched the gyroscope setting and set a timer. How long? Say two hours. Give Agnes plenty of time to return. Not much but it should hold Agnes there until Sarah could get back.
She got up and left the office. Still no one around. Everyone must be at the first launch, but that wouldn't go on for long. Was she being caught on the surveillance cameras? Nothing she could do about it now. She raced back down the hall to the elevators, rode down to level three and ran to her office. It occurred to her that her desk drawer was locked and she couldn't project a screen to open it, but it sat open when she got to the office. Weirder and weirder. She grabbed a pair of earrings from the desk. Jabbing them in as she ran down the hall to get her car.
6
"Sorry I took so long," Dutch apologized. "Meetings to attend. We've been very busy. Aah," he went on, looking around the apartment, his eyes stopping on the red light outside the bathroom door. "There's nothing quite like a fresh toilet seat in the morning, is there?"
Monica finally convinced herself it wasn't all a bad dream and opened one eye. Dutch stood over her, smiling.
"I can't say I've ever thought about it," she said, closing the eye again, suddenly exhausted. She'd actually fallen asleep, slumped in the chair she'd fallen into when she'd gotten tired of beating on the door and yelling names at Dutch. She massaged her ankle. Adrenaline had let her run for her life but left it hurting like hell. Running for her life? She sat up. Sarah.
"Dutch," she said firmly. "We've got to go help Sarah." Let's ignore the fact that it's almost certainly too late. It couldn't be. She couldn't imagine Sarah gone.
"Wouldn't you like to freshen up first?" Dutch asked, grinning. He arched an eyebrow at the closed bathroom door.
Monica glanced at the red light, then at Dutch. There had to be a way out. She stood up.
"This is where Agnes put her guest."
"Guest? What guest?"
"It's actually an interesting question, whether she brought him as a guest or a prisoner. He
was invited, on the other hand it's certainly true that he can't leave." Dutch grinned and pointed his finger at her.
"Can't leave?" She eyed his finger. "What's the joke?"
"Well he's certainly not leaving now." Dutch's grin broadened. He wagged his finger back and forth.
"Why not?" She looked around. Can a cyborg go crazy? There must be a way out of here. "Who is he?" she asked, edging toward the door. That's it. Keep him occupied.
"Agnes had him brought here from prison," Dutch said as Monica ran to the door. Pushed at the door. Stared at the door. Kicked the door. "He was evidently one of the people involved in the attack that's gotten people into such a state," Dutch went on, ignoring her. "It seems very important to her to talk with him before the mission. But it's very important to Pruitt that she doesn't talk with him. It's been difficult logic to untangle. Fortunately I found a simple solution," he added with relief.
"One of the attackers? He's staying here?" Not the one in the police car. That's right. Sarah'd told her. There is another one. They brought him here. She looked around the room and lowered her voice. "Where is he Dutch? I just lost one killer. I'd rather not have another one sneaking up on me."
"Oh he's perfectly harmless," Dutch giggled.
"Where is he? In the bedroom?
"The bedroom?" Dutch glanced at her with the expression of someone getting ready to deliver the punch line of a good joke. "Why nooo. He's not in the bedroom." Something about the look on Dutch's face sent tiny ice centipedes crawling down Monica's spine.
"Not in the bedroom? Then where..." She stared at him as if he'd suddenly switched to a language she didn't speak, then at the red light on the door. "DUTCH." She ran to the door but Dutch got a hand on her arm as she passed.
"Ow. Stop Dutch. That hurts."
Soul Source: Back and There Again Page 31