Exodus (The Fall of Haven)

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Exodus (The Fall of Haven) Page 12

by Justin Kemppainen


  Startled and confused, the two people exchanged glances and responded slowly. Moving forward, gesturing, and shouting, Rick got them moving and assisted in taking out the bars and chains which fastened the outer door.

  As they labored, the pounding outside increased in urgency. "Working on it; just a minute!" Rick shouted, cursing at the extensive amount of blockage. Geez, we could go to one of the windows and tear the boards loose faster, he thought.

  Finally, after what seemed an eternity of effort, they flung the doors open.

  "Took you long enough-" Kaylee charged forward, shouting until she saw Rick. Surprise collided into her expression, and she stopped short.

  The shock didn't last, as the remaining pair pushed forward, shoving her into an actual collision with Rick which ended in the two of them sprawling to the ground.

  An awkward tumble of limbs ensued as each person tried to extract themselves from the tangle. The gravity of their situation disappeared for a moment during the tussle, in which other individuals rushed past them and worked on re-barricading the door.

  Rick and Kaylee's eyes met, embarrassment on their faces, and they each paused in their efforts to rise. A tiny moment ensued, clarity at their happiness in seeing each other again.

  Michaels interrupted. "Are you two going to lay about all night? In the way, I might add, while demons prowl outside? Or perhaps you plan on regaining your feet and actually helping out?"

  "Doc, you better shut your..." Kaylee trailed off, rolling clear of Rick and picking herself up. She cleared her throat, turning back and offering a hand to her still-fallen friend.

  Feeling a measure of heat rising to his face, Rick grasped her hand and climbed to his feet. He dusted himself off and took in the surroundings. The two door guards already labored to replace the bars and chains, and the rest of the group, now safely arrived, stared at him and Kaylee.

  "Right, erm..." he said, scratching the back of his head. "Welcome back, Quinton. Are you okay, do you need-"

  Kaylee smacked the old man in the chest with the back of her hand. "Why didn't you tell me Rick was down here? And don't say it's because I didn't ask."

  Quinton leaned up against the wall, blood dripping through the bandages on his leg and midsection. He held a passive expression, and if the wounds caused any pain or irritation to him, he gave no indication. "I had more pressing concerns," he said in his usual gruff tone. "Also, you didn't ask."

  Scowling, Kaylee opened her mouth in a retort, but Rick suddenly recalled the situation and that he'd left a teenage girl, alone, guarding the outside of the front entrance. "I hate to spoil the reunion, but I have to get back to my post. All of you, come with me; I can keep watch and chat at the same time, I think."

  Michaels sputtered objections, something regarding exhaustion and hunger, but he fell silent at a quick word from Quinton. Scowling, the researcher held a moment of irritation followed by reluctant agreement.

  "Two people..." Rick walked at a brisk pace through the locker-filled hallway, heading up the stairwell. "I hope that duffle of yours has plenty of guns."

  Kaylee gave a sigh. "We tried to convince Sergei and Isaac to help, but for some reason they want to try and hunt down Malcolm instead."

  "Fools, both of them," Michaels spoke, again half-carrying the injured Quinton.

  "They think he was responsible for the killings?" Rick didn't voice that he'd held a brief but similar notion much earlier.

  "Their thoughts are as weak and poorly-constructed as their actions," Michaels replied, voice-strained with exertion, "and would it be possible to find somewhere to set this man down? He's heavier than he looks, and I believe his sutures have been torn."

  Quinton developed a scowl. "I'm fine; you're going to need my help with-"

  Michaels interrupted, "Shut up. If you insist upon me patching you up, I'm officially your care provider, and thus you need to listen to me. A man of your age cannot sustain injury so lightly."

  "Stick him the corner and keep him conscious. I might need to talk to him." Rick jabbed a finger in the direction of the wall near the window as they entered the classroom. He could see Cass through the window, attention back and forth between her vigil and the group in the classroom behind her. The occasional shout and howl pierced the night, proof the attackers remained close by.

  "How's it looking out there, Cass?"

  The girl turned her head. "Back to how it was before. They're running on the edges, trying to scare us, I think. Still no idea how many."

  Kaylee helped Michaels ease Quinton into the corner, propping his head up with a folded jacket. Michaels peeled back some of the bandages, wincing at the bloody mess underneath, the sutures torn free. "All that work..."

  "Your stitching is terrible." Quinton gave a rattling cough. "You're not much of a doctor."

  "I'm not a doctor at all," Michaels replied, drawing medical supplies out of one of the duffel bags, "but for some reason people expect a man of breeding and intelligence to fill the role when necessary."

  Quinton barked a laugh, revealing blood-rimmed teeth. "You're no good for fighting, so we expect a man of your breeding and intelligence to be decent at something."

  Rick stopped listening to the back and forth between the doc and the old man, climbing through the window. The situation outside appeared as Cass had indicated: shapes moved in the shadows. Sounds of the attackers echoed in the night, some forming words, taunting, and threats, but no direct assault occurred. "I wonder how long they plan on keeping this up," he said.

  "How long has it been going for?" Kaylee asked, stepping out after him.

  He picked up the rifle, not aiming but keeping it at the ready. "A couple of hours now. I did a little walking around before, trying to see who these people were. They tried to jump me," he cast a sidelong glance and cleared his throat, "us, rather. We, uh, ran back here, but they followed and have been up to this little mess ever since."

  Kaylee asked, "How many?"

  "We don't know," Cass replied.

  "Who's she?" Kaylee jerked her head in Cass' direction.

  Rick made a quick gesture, taking care of introductions quickly before moving on. "Kaylee, Cass. Cass, Kaylee. How many did you see when you were running?"

  "No idea. We were about a mile out when some crazy bitch flew out of the shadows and almost jammed an icepick into the doc's face. We shot her down, but then more came at us. All we could do was run."

  "Jesus, Kaylee," Rick swept a hand through his hair. "What were you thinking bringing so few people with? You could've died out there, and then what-"

  Scowling, Kaylee replied, "It's not like this was sanctioned or anything. None of us are going to be very welcome by Sergei and Isaac after we stole some shit and ran off against orders."

  "You didn't tell them about-"

  "Of course we told them!" she shouted, interrupting. "They didn't listen. Apparently even Malcolm got cut up by these freaks, and they still wanted to believe he was the bad guy."

  Rick nodded, remembering his own desperate pleas to Sergei and Isaac. He had thought them rational and intelligent prior, but they had damned him in spite of any attempts at discussion. In certain situations, it seemed the two OHU leaders had a severe case of tunnel vision. Although, again the thought of Malcolm being overwhelmed left an unsettled feeling in his stomach.

  It means they've either got enough numbers to cause greater concern, or worse... he thought, knowing both of his conclusions were probably correct. They're just too crazy to care about getting ripped apart. I'd bet both of my kidneys Malcolm gave ten times more than he got.

  "I know that look," Kaylee interrupted his train of thought, peering into his face. "You're worried."

  He wiped sweat out of his eyes. "Thinking about these people, Malcolm, the rest of it..."

  "Yeah," she nodded. "I know how you feel. Sorry we couldn't bring an army with. These crazy bastards wouldn't be so scary if Sergei and Isaac weren't such dipshits."

  Rick pulled the rifle to
his shoulder, seeing one of the surrounding assailants briefly dart into the light. Unsure of his aim, he let the weapon fall unfired, gritting his teeth and cursing under his breath. "If I had more ammo..." he said softly to the disappearing shadow.

  "We brought what we could grab," Kaylee said, squinting in the direction of Rick's vanished target.

  Rick reached over squeezed her shoulder. "You did fine; we'll be good and safe, and maybe we'll even get to take out a few dozen of these pricks if they get greedy."

  She shook her head. "But it's not like you can just stay here forever. There's a lot of civilians to feed and take care of; they have to be able to scout, forage, and all the other stuff too. Can't do it with these guys running around."

  "Yeah, I know it," Rick said, "but for now let's keep our focus on living out the..." he checked his recently procured watch and squeezed his eyes shut. "Yeah, living out the rest of the night. If they're still around in the morning, we'll have to think about striking out, scaring them off, or something."

  "Where did these guys come from?" Cass asked, not turning her attention away from the street. Rick blinked, almost forgetting she was there. He opened his mouth to speak, but Kaylee said it first.

  "Good question." She folded her arms. "What do you think, Rick?"

  "I know they're set up in the northwestern section of Old Haven, but..."

  Kaylee made a face. "There? Oh dear God... I never wanted to think about that place again, especially in regards to..." She trailed off, eyes going wide.

  Rick raised an eyebrow. "In regards to what?"

  "Son of a bitch..." she said, eyes distant.

  Turning away from the watch, Rick focused his full attention on Kaylee. "What, Kaylee?"

  She covered her mouth with a hand, her face going pale. Rick could see the slightest trembling in her body. "I didn't really think of it until just now, but killing people and drinking blood? It's a bit different, but it can't be a coincidence. Not with them hanging out in that region of the city. No way."

  Rick spread his hands out, waiting for her to get to the point.

  "I don't know how he survived or got loose, how he gathered people to do his dirty work, or anything else..." She looked at him with haunted eyes. "I think it's Nigel."

  ******

  The security at the Institute was not precisely lax.

  None of the security around the areas controlled by the Old Haven Union could be considered lax, at least on paper.

  However, the people walking the patrols, sitting in sentry positions, and entrusted to be vigilant at all times did not adhere to the highest standards.

  Most of the smaller work, the less critical guard duty and tasks not directly involving the leaders Sergei and Isaac themselves, had been delegated to those with less experience. For certain, months of tension forged even the most timid civilians who joined the OHU into something harder, but it didn't make everyone instant veterans.

  Individuals slipped into the late night periods of waning attention and deeper sleeps for those not currently on duty or those taking their tasks lightly. Seven different sentries and patrol individuals could have caught glimpses of the black-clad, quickly-moving group of soldiers. Indeed, twelve individuals who handled their business well, who were not curled up in a corner sleeping, leaning up against a wall and closing their eyes for just a minute... those individuals who were wide-awake and ever-watchful...

  Twelve individuals on patrol from the OHU died quietly, unable to raise the alarm before being dealt with. As the last one fell, the raiding party drew within striking distance to the Institute itself.

  ******

  Tanya knew how to complain. Eugene often suggested, joked about how this ability formed her greatest strength. In some small way, her brash attitude and unwillingness to accept situations at face value provided one of the reasons why he cared about her so much.

  Sometimes he hated her for it.

  "How far we have fallen away from good will," she said, her tone filled with scorn. "Sergei doesn't want our direct assistance any longer. You refuse the one person who decides to take action..." Tanya shook her head. "I sometimes wonder if you have any fire at all these days, Eugene."

  Their assigned guard duty - no one, including Sergei and Isaac, ever dared suggest they take individual or separate shifts - kept them inside the walls of the Institute itself. Rather than acting as the posted sentries, they patrolled continuously throughout the empty halls of the large building.

  In truth, neither had disappeared from Sergei's eye or favor. The assignment had been actually intended to be a reward, based upon Sergei's impression that both had seen and accomplished enough in their time. He wished to repay their loyalty by allowing some semblance of a relaxed existence.

  Not that they knew or appreciated it. Eugene enjoyed the important but less risk-filled tasks, but he didn't particularly relish the effect it had on Tanya.

  "We should have gone with her. Sergei doesn't need or want us anymore. He's a fool. He's been a fool for a long time now." Tanya continued to peck away at Eugene's calm.

  Hours of this, and how much more shall I endure? Weariness tugged at the corners of his face, and frustration pulsed throughout his body. Every bit of him wished he could have gone along with Kaylee, Quinton, and the strange Citizen doctor or researcher, whatever he was.

  "But something gave you pause. Something you can't describe. The mighty Eugene, a slave to tiny feelings," Tanya continued. "Someday, perhaps you will rediscover your manhood, Eugene. I pray it comes before age robs you of usefulness."

  Eugene slammed his fist against the wall. "Enough!" he shouted. "I do not know why, but my heart, my mind, my very soul tells me that our place, this night, is here! If you trust me, if you have ever cared any of the tiniest bit for me, you will keep silent and leave me in peace."

  Much to his surprise, Tanya complied, eyeing him with a lightly amused expression. She stared at him, a half-smirk on her face, for several moments.

  Eugene shifted on his feet, uncomfortable with her odd silence and scrutiny. He hadn't expected his outburst to have any positive effect, and now it appeared Tanya was deciding whether to relent or break his jaw.

  She made a fist and socked him in the chest before darting up and kissing him on the cheek. "Relax, you old woman. I only tease." She patted him on the shoulder. "I trust your instincts. Truly, I do, and you know this."

  Sighing, Eugene rubbed his chest. "I... I am sorry, Tanya. I know your complaints are out of frustration, and I wish I could say why I feel our presence is needed here and now..."

  Tanya tossed her head back and laughed. "In due course, I am sure Eugene. I think maybe you wanted light duty tonight to allow for a little... relaxation?" She dropped a coy smile.

  "Hah!" Eugene broke out in a wide grin. "When I was a much younger man, yes my 'instincts' may have been driven by such desires."

  His companion tilted her head, the smile remaining on her face. "I remember those days, Eugene, and you are not yet so old. You hold a bit of spring in your step." Tanya gave a shrug. "Fifteen minutes out of our patrol won't harm anything, yes?"

  Eugene eyed her, taking a deep breath. Temptation burned in his chest and parts beyond. Privacy all around... a few minutes won't cause any trouble, right?

  Another voice spoke up in his mind. One of reason and true instinct. One which didn't speak in words, but the intent and meaning could not be clearer. Running off into a side room for even a brief moment of extracurricular activity would be a terrible mistake.

  He let out a long, regretful sigh. "No. Not this time, my dear. Something, this damnable voice in my head, tells me our place is in the here and now. We must remain watchful because our foolish leaders have run off in foolish pursuit. If we do not keep their house guarded, who will?"

  Tanya shrugged, smiling. "Your loss." Eugene wilted, and she laughed at him. "No, no, I do agree with you. As fun as a diversion would be-"

  A distant explosion shook the building, cutting off furt
her conversation and thoughts of a more pleasant encounter. Eugene and Tanya exchanged glances, both instantly firing into combat mode.

  "The research wing?" he spoke first, guessing at the source.

  She chewed her lip. "Yes, I believe so." She gripped his arm. "The poison!"

  Gritting his teeth, Eugene nodded. "By the Gods, I hope not."

  Without another word, they checked their weapons and sprinted down the hall. Past Michaels' office, down a flight of stairs and through another hallway, they burst into the lobby where four guards were pressed up against the far wall.

  The doors leading into the research wing were open, and the hallway beyond was obscured by smoke. Intermittent fire chattered through haze, occasionally returned by the OHU soldiers.

  "How many?" Eugene shouted, sliding up to one of the columns.

  "No idea," one man yelled in response. "They blasted through the outside wall, cut through the hallways, and dug themselves in here! I don't know what they're doing in there, but they don't want us to stop it!"

  Shouting curses, Tanya fired a burst into the smoke and haze. "It's the canisters, you idiot. They're trying to steal them! How in God's name did they slip by our patrols?!"

  Something about this statement rang false to Eugene, and he shook his head. "No, not theft!"

  "What then?" A round chipped off the edge an inch away from the guard's shoulder, and the man jerked back.

  Eugene bit his lip, making eye contact with Tanya. He narrowed his, and she widened hers. Without speaking, they each landed upon the most likely intent of their foes.

  "Truly?" she asked, a measure of horror on her face.

  "What else could it be?" he replied, clenching his teeth.

  The other guards appeared confused. "Wait, what?"

  "Sabotage." Eugene drew in a breath. "They're planning to destroy the devices."

 

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