by J. N. Chaney
The chief paused. “What are you saying, Reed?”
Gods, does he even know about the explosion? “The explosion in the platform caused—”
“Gas main, we know,” Lessard said.
“Gas—what? No!” My frustration gave new fuel for my legs to burn as I charged up the stairs afresh. “Those were neutron bombs planted by the perps!”
“Neutron bombs? Come on, Reed. We both know how desperate you were for my office, and if you think for one second that this little attempt to grandstand—”
“Lessard, no disrespect, but you need to shut up and hand your radio to someone that knows how to lead.”
“Well done, sir,” Lars said.
“Lars, switch channels to someone in the SCFD, would you?”
“As you wish, sir.”
Lessard’s voice clipped off mid-expletive, and suddenly, a new voice came online. It was the chief of the Sellion City Fire Department, Bill Meeks. I’d shared many a beer with the man at our local watering hole. While we didn’t have the closeness of men who worked for the same unit, we did share a common bond in keeping the city safe—and in downing our share of fermented barley. The boys in yellow and red always seemed to be a little less uptight than those in blue, and I appreciated that.
“Bill, it’s Flint,” I said.
“Flint Reed?” the chief asked.
“Yeah. Listen, I have about four dozen employees coming up the sub-level stairwell, north side. They’re pretty banged up.”
“Roger that, Flint. I’ll redirect my crews there now.”
“And be careful,” I added. “Those denotations aren’t from any gas like some might be saying.”
“I could have told you that,” Meeks replied. “Gas is destructive, but not that destructive.”
“Right. They were neutron bombs, and the lower tower is minutes away from separating from the platform.”
“You sure, Flint?”
“I had eyes on the bombs myself.”
The chief took a deep breath. “Okay, then. We’ll do this on the double.”
“One more thing, Bill. There are a few more bombs that didn’t go off.”
Meeks cursed. “How many?”
“I’m not sure, but… just be careful.”
“We’ll be careful, and you do the same.”
“Copy that,” I said. “Reed out.”
“Meeks out.”
My feet continued to beat up the stairs. It felt good to have Meeks backing me up. Help was on the way and, with any luck, we’d get these people to safety. The thought of the fire department descending however-many floors above me renewed my strength enough to pour a little more speed on. I shrugged aside the searing pain in my ribs and ache in my legs, knowing we’d be free and clear soon enough.
In another few moments, I heard the voices of the employees. I rounded another few flights before catching sight of the back of the line. A man heard me coming and turned around.
“Stay back!” he yelled.
“They’ve found us!” someone else cried. Screams started to travel up and around the stairwell as people reacted to my presence.
“Whoa, whoa!” I said, holding my hands up. I didn’t have time for a fight with a frenzied gang of former hostages. If I just plowed through them, I might never make it up these stairs. “I’m not one of them!”
“Stand back!” the first man yelled at me, his fists raised. Hey, at least he was willing to put up a fight. Maybe that was why he let everyone else go first.
“I’m a security guard with EnerTron,” I protested. “I’m here to help you.”
The man’s body seemed to ease a little, his fists lowering. “You… you are?”
“Yes,” I said. I approached him cautiously. “My name is Flint Reed and I work for Mr. Oragga just like you.”
“Where’d you come from?”
“Right now, that doesn’t matter.” I stood on the step below him. “But what does is getting all of these people to safety. Now I need to get by—to get to the head of the line. But that’s going to take too long if I have to press through all these people. And we don’t have a lot of time.
“You’re back here because you actually give more of a damn for them than you do for yourself, so they’ll listen to you. You think you can help me with this? Spread the word?”
“Yeah, sure,” he replied. He turned and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Everyone! Stand against the wall! Help is coming through!”
“Thanks,” I said, watching a path appear around the inside railing. The man repeated the instructions three more times as I began up the stairs again, feet slapping against the treads.
I tried not to look at the peoples’ faces, knowing they’d just distract me. Many of them gasped as they recognized me, calling me by name. They asked where I’d come from, how badly I was hurt, and—most of all—what I was doing. I ignored them mostly, offering a simple thank you as I passed by.
Once I was clear of the employees, I asked Lars how things were looking.
“Platform cohesion is at thirty-three percent, sir,” he replied.
I shook my head. “We’re gonna be cutting this close, pal.”
“Agreed, sir. I estimate you have less than a—”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
Lars paused. “You don’t want to the information, sir?”
“Sometimes, for us humans, too much information can be a bad thing.”
“Huh,” Lars said in such a human way that it caught me off guard. “How peculiar. Duly noted.”
The stairwell continued to shake in small fits as I completed flight after flight. From now on, I was only interested in buying single-story apartments. And if I couldn’t do that, I was installing an elevator—I don’t care what it costs.
On and on I went, putting distance between me and the mass of people moving my way. I wanted to make sure I got to any obstructions before they did. Just then, another quake shook the building. It was a bad one. The force threw me sideways and I slammed against the stairwell wall. I heard several people cry out below as they, too, were thrown about. The good news, I concluded to myself, was that—one way or another—this would all be over soon.
“Sir,” came Lars’s voice, “we may have a problem.”
I righted myself and returned to charging up the stairs, now pitched at an odd angle. “What kind of problem?” I asked.
“That last tremor tore part of the stairwell apart,” Lars said. As if to emphasize his point, bits of concrete sprinkled down through the center gap between the railings.
“How bad is the tear?” I asked, not slowing.
“The new gap appears to be one point seven meters wide,” Lars replied.
“One point… are you sure?”
“My sensors were calibrated last Wednesday at—”
“Okay, you’re sure. What floor?”
“It is the junction between sub-floor one and the platform itself, sir. You’re almost there.”
By the time I reached sub-floor three, my feet crunched on debris. I waved the dust away from my face and coughed up white powder. I strained to look up the center gap and noticed plenty of obstructions that didn’t belong. I rounded the landing onto sub-level two and the debris grew worse. Then, as the stairs leading up from level one appeared, I noticed the damage.
Sure enough, there was a space almost two meters wide between the top of one step and the bottom of the next. I looked further up to the following set of stairs and saw that they had endured the opposite force. Instead of being pulled apart, they’d been mangled together, bunching up in a mound of metal and concrete that would be slow going for the people coming after me. The entire building must have been twisting away from the platform, wrenching slowly to one side.
As I looked down through the gap between the stairs, I could see the employees racing to meet me. Another three floors and the first of them would be here.
“Lars, are there any more stairwells or elevators you’d recommend?” I ask
ed.
“Negative, sir. The other stairwells are suffering similar stress fractures, and the elevators pose too much of a risk. I can’t ensure anyone’s safety.”
“So,” I said, pointing to the gap in the stairs, “this is the safest recommended route.”
“It is, sir. I would have already suggested an alternate route if there was one.”
“Of course you would have.” I chuckled. “Thanks, pal.”
“It’s my pleasure, sir. I do have some good news, however.”
“And that is?”
“Several members of the fire department’s search and rescue team are moments away from your position. They were waylaid by debris on the ground floor and floor-zero, but have broken through.”
“That’s great news,” I replied.
I watched as the people slowed, picking their way through the debris. “Take your time, everyone,” I said, realizing that was not at all what I wanted to say. “Keep moving as fast as you can but watch your step. We don’t need anyone tripping.”
A woman near the front looked up and saw me. I watched the look of surprise turn to horror as she took in the sight of the staircase.
“It’s okay, ma’am,” I said, trying to calm her from above. But she didn’t hear me.
She pointed at the gap and said, “We’re trapped!”
That one sentence traveled like wildfire down through the ranks. Any hope that had appeared when I’d passed by was now dashed at the sight of the tear.
“Please, everyone remain calm!” I yelled. “We’re going to get through this. Just keep moving up the stairs to me.”
The women who’d cried out seconds ago looked up at me. “That’s right,” I said, coaxing her forward. “Just come up and around the next turn. I’ll help you across.”
“Are… are you sh-sure?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied. “I’m getting you out of this.”
“You promise?”
Son of a bitch. “Yeah, I promise.” The bright side was that if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have long to feel guilty about lying.
The woman looked back down and started picking her way through the debris, careful not to trip. She led the line around the outer wall, gripping the railing, and moving up to my position. When she reached me, I took her by the hand and looked in her eyes.
“You’re going to jump across to the next stair there, okay?” I asked, pointing to the far step. She looked down. “No, no, don’t look down.”
“But I’m afraid of heights,” she said.
“So am I,” I replied.
“But you live in s-Sellion City…”
“So I’ve been told. Just can’t seem to bring myself to move.”
“Me neither,” she replied with a nervous smile.
“Then that makes two of us.”
I looked up as a man in a yellow fire-retardant outfit appeared around the next landing. I raised a hand at him. “Watch out!” I said, indicating the gap.
The man’s eyebrows raised beneath his full face mask. He raised it over his head and stepped down toward the gap.
“I’m sending her to you,” I said.
“Got it,” he replied. He grabbed the railing with one hand and reached toward us with his other. Several more firefighters appeared, backing him up by holding his coat and shoulder. At least two more hands extended toward the woman.
“Give me your other hand and then hold the railing over there.” She did. “Good, now I want you to jump toward them on three.”
“Okay,” she said, nodding incessantly.
“One… two… thr—”
The building shook and the woman’s feet slipped off the ledge. She fell through the gap, but my hand clenched around her wrist, keeping her from falling to the level five meters below.
“I got you!” I yelled, hoping she’d stop screaming. I needed her to focus. “Look at me! Come on, lady! Eyes up here!”
She looked up, instantly grabbing my wrist with her other hand, legs flailing.
“I need you to stop moving, okay?”
“Uh-huh,” she said, tears streaming down her face. The truth was, I wanted to cry too. The pain in my chest was obscene—it took my breath away. But I couldn’t let go of this poor woman.
“Hold on!” I cried, and then began pulling with all my might. Suddenly, another hand appeared and a woman next to me helped get the victim to safety. When we’d pulled her high enough for the dangling woman to scramble to the steps, I leaned back against the wall and took in a deep breath.
“Officer Reed,” said the lady who’d helped me, “you look like you’re in bad shape.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, waving her off.
“If you don’t get some medical—”
“I’m fine, lady. If we don’t get you out of here in the next five minutes, no one’s going to need any medical attention. Copy?”
She nodded. I had probably been too harsh with her—just like I was with Heather. Dammit, why am I thinking about her at a time like this? I had a job to do.
I looked back at the firefighters and then stood up. “Let’s try this again,” I said.
“We have two ladders coming if you’d like to wait, sir,” said the firefighter in front.
“Negative,” I replied. “We have no time to spare. We go again.”
The woman grabbed the railing again, and then my hand, preparing to jump. This time, she did the counting.
“One… two… three!” The woman leaped into open air and was caught by the firefighters on the other side. They pulled her forward and got her walking to the next flight of stairs.
“One down, and a whole lot more to go,” I whispered. “Who’s next?” As the next employee stepped forward, a voice came into my left ear.
“Mr. Reed?” it said.
I froze. This was the enemy’s channel. In all the commotion, I’d forgotten to remove it now that I didn’t care what happened to the perps.
“Mr. Flint Reed?” the man said again. It was Oubrick. “You are up there somewhere, aren’t you. And you’re listening to me right now too.”
“Lars,” I said. “Are you getting this?”
“I am, sir, and you should know that—”
“I understand that you might now want to speak with me,” Oubrick continued, “but you may be very interested to speak with someone here beside me. In fact, I think she would like to say goodbye to you before she leaves for a position she recently accepted on Psylon Five. You have fifteen minutes to do so before she unavoidably catches her flight.”
21
“Is it legitimate?” I asked Lars.
“It is, sir,” he replied. “The woman Oubrick has restrained bears a ninety-eight percent match to images I’ve found of your wife on the Gal-net.”
I left the employees in the care of the firefighters and began racing back down the way I’d come. I bumped into several of them much harder than I’d intended. I tried excusing myself, but it came off far more coolly than I’d intended. But at this point, I didn’t care. These people would be safe, assuming the building held together. But Heather… I had to get to her.
“Hey, Flint,” said Meeks’s voice over my comm. “Some of my boys are saying you’re heading back down. What’s going on?”
“Oubrick has my wife,” I said.
“Your ex-wife, sir,” Lars corrected.
“Someone has Heather?” Meeks asked, probably unaware of Lars’s comment.
“Oubrick,” I repeated. I struck several more people as I bound down the stairs. “He’s the leader of this whole thing. I think he’s got her in the lower hangar.”
“My gods, Flint… I’m so sorry. What can we do?”
“I think this one’s up to me, Bill,” I said. “You just focus on saving all those people moving into the lobby. Get everyone clear of the complex.”
“Can do, Flint. You need anything, holler.”
“Copy.”
I left the employees and bounded back down the stairs, running as fast as
I could without tripping head-over-heels. My thoughts moved toward Heather. How had she gotten caught up in all this? How had Oubrick found her? It was enough to drive me crazy. I couldn’t believe this was happening right now.
I felt myself fighting panic and fear with every flight of stairs I descended, and that was unlike me. Mr. Calm, Heather always called me, and would get pissed when I didn’t react to situations she thought deserved a higher emotional level.
As much as we fought like cats and dogs, she was still my wife—at least up until this morning. What did that digital approval stamp mean anyway? I’d always love her. Maybe not enough to live together anymore… and maybe we did need to move our separate ways. Who knew. But we had history, and that counted for something.
It didn’t matter how much she drove me nuts, no one—and I mean no one—deserved to die at the hands of a terrorist except other terrorists. If Oubrick did anything to her, I’d make sure he’d rot in every single version of hells that existed. And if hells didn’t exist, I’d find some equivalents.
“Hey, Lars?” I asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“If I make it through whatever happens next, you think you could fix one of the elevators?”
“Fix one of the elevators, sir?”
“Yeah, ‘cause I’m done with stairs for life.”
“Sir,” Lars said as I approached the thirtieth floor, “I am detecting several flammable gasses in the hangar, including acetylene, hydrogen, propylene, and methane.”
“So you’re saying I shouldn’t light my victory cigar down here?” I asked.
“In their current concentrations, I’m saying you shouldn’t fire the MX090 down here.”
I slowed just before reaching the first set of doors leading to the hangar. “You can’t be serious,” I said.
“I am very serious, sir. Several pipes have burst in the hangar, resulting in gas mixtures not yet lethal to your body, but highly combustible.”
“Does Oubrick know this?” I asked.
“Probably not, sir. Unless he has detected the odors himself and has a background in chemistry, he and his men are more likely to die from an explosion than at the end of your assault rifle—no offense.”