Quincy slipped behind the stairwell just as Nathan Anderson came into view.
What was he doing here? His office was located in the main building with the other corporate offices. He only made visits to the medical building when he needed to check in on her progress, and he certainly never came to the basement.
If all was going according to plan, the IT department had been evacuated before they could discover the cloud storage servers were being destroyed and without knowing that, the paper files weren’t worth the risk of rescuing.
If didn’t matter though, because Anderson blew right passed the records room without a second thought.
Where was he going?
Quincy glanced at the records room. Through the glass of the door, she could see an angry red glow. The deserted hallway she was hiding in was heating up fast and she knew she didn’t have a lot of time to get out. But if a man like Nathan Anderson was risking his life, she needed to know why.
Quincy slipped out from behind the stairwell and glided after him. There was no real reason to be quiet, as the sound of the fire and the alarms covered any sounds she could make.
She had never been further in the basement than the records room, but she had known it extended past a slight bend. Coming to the bend now, she peeked around and stepped out from behind the wall. Huh.
The corridor ended. And it was empty.
Well, that was…unexpected. Quincy walked to the wall where the hall dead ended and touched it, running her hands over the cracks and crevices, going so far as to dig her fingers into the seams between the wall and the floor, but there was nothing. She had seen Anderson turn this way, hadn’t she? She wasn’t that crazy yet.
She turned slowly in a circle looking up at the ceiling, but there was nothing to indicate anything more than brick and mortar.
She hesitated. She really didn’t have time for this. Black smoke was beginning to pour from under the door of the records room. It was a matter of minutes before a thick blanket of killing smoke would cover the entire floor. She had to get out of here.
Quincy spun and darted back down the hallway and around the corner, only to slam unceremoniously into what felt like a brick wall. On the ground, Quincy clutched her chest, gasping at the pain. And then instinct took over.
She rolled to her feet and danced back, just like Logan had taught her, and none too soon. Nathan Anderson had been poised above her, ready to drop his foot into the middle of her chest.
Now that she was up, she realized what had happened. She had assumed the dead end wall would be the only wall that might conceal an entrance, but she had been wrong. Anderson had slipped into the compartment just swinging shut behind him now and had shot an arm out as she’d sprinted past, clotheslining her and putting her flat on her back.
“Why are you here?” she wheezed, leaning one hip against the wall and pressing a hand against her sternum. The blow had been vicious and air was returning slowly.
Anderson, standing between Quincy and the stairwell she needed to get up in order to get out, smiled grimly.
“I’m not about to let one woman destroy what has taken me years to build.” He sneered when he said woman, and Quincy straightened up to her full height. She’d show him woman.
“That’s right,” she agreed good-naturedly. “Life’s work. Down the drain. That must suck.”
“What, the records?” he mocked contemptuously. “Do you really think I’m stupid enough to risk my own life to recover paper files backed up on cloud servers all over this facility?”
So, he didn’t know her virus was eating through his precious cloud servers, destroying every last piece of evidence about RNB and the patients they had tortured. At least something was going right.
Quincy cocked an eyebrow, letting her distain show. “Your own life? No. But stupid, well…”
Actually, no, she didn’t think he was that stupid. That’s why she’d followed him in the first place, exposing her cover and placing herself into yet another life threatening situation.
If Logan could only see her now.
Chapter 55
Claire
“My name is Dr. David Garrison.”
The words hung in the air, suspended between them like ice crystals on a cold day.
The silence lasted so long that his hand wavered, still extended towards Claire but with a slight tremble, as though second-guessing the gesture. His calm smile dimmed somewhat as he looked around at the hardened faces surrounding him.
“You’re Dr. Garrison?” Miguel was the first to recover his voice.
“I take it you’ve heard of me?” he asked wryly, retracting his hand and tucking them both into his pockets.
“Oh, we’ve heard of you,” Amy said caustically. “We’ve definitely heard of you.”
“Dr. Garrison is the one who found you,” Amy’s husband broke in, laying a comforting hand on his wife’s arm. “We had all but given up hope when he came to us.”
“He explained what had happened.” Her mom took up where he left off. “Told us about this company that had taken you for…research.” The disgust in her voice came through loud and clear. “He explained about your head injury. All those things we could see but didn’t understand? The things your doctors wouldn’t believe?” She squeezed her daughter’s arm, momentarily lost in the past. “He had an answer.”
“Oh, I’m sure he did,” Claire said, never taking her eyes off the man. “He is the one who told the company about us, after all. Why not tell you, too?”
Dr. Garrison had the grace to look ashamed.
“I’ll assume the company had some stories to tell about me,” he said, “and I’m sure some of them are even true.”
Logan attempted to cut in, jumping to the man’s defense, but Garrison held up a hand, cutting him off.
“No, Logan,” he said, “they have a right to know the story. And they have a right to resent me.” He looked back at Claire. “You are right, after all. I did tell the company about you. But I’d like the chance to tell you, too. If you’d like.”
The offer was meant for all of them, but it was Claire he spoke to.
She held his eyes, judging his sincerity. Luckily, she was fairly skilled in that area. Guilt and regret poured off the man in waves, as did his honest desire to help. She glanced around the small circle of people. Miguel had his arms crossed, tucked in close to his body to conserve heat, but his head was tipped slightly towards the sky. Being so exposed to direct sunlight after so long behind protective glass, even in this weak, wintry light, was agony but the relief of cold, fresh air on his face was worth the pain. In this moment, he couldn’t care less about Dr. Garrison’s story. He was free. And he had developed some skills to help him cope with this new normal he’d been saddled with. That was all he cared about.
Amy, on the other hand, cared very much. But what she cared about was not how Dr. Garrison’s story affected her. No, she cared about how it affected her family. She had been reunited with her little boy. Her husband and her mother were both standing with her, arms laced around her, sheltering her between them. Her only goal now was to protect them from what was seeking her.
They both might have what they had wanted for so long, but Claire had been protecting them for a long time now. She still had a job to do. She focused back on the doctor before shifting her gaze to the driver. Logan. An army lieutenant. Security would be his specialty.
“Are we safe here?” she asked him, glancing briefly at the others again to let him know she had more important concerns at the moment than hearing Dr. Garrison’s story. That could come later.
“For now,” he said. “But not for long. It’s in your best interests to keep moving for as long as possible before hunkering down.” He nodded towards Amy and her family. “Randell and Mrs. O’Neil already know the plan. They’ll be hitting the road shortly.”
Amy’s mom fairly blushed. “Now Logan,” she said, “I thought we agreed there’d be no more Mrs. O’Neil from you.”
&nbs
p; Logan grinned what Claire recognized as a very charming grin. “Yes ma’am,” he said, tipping an invisible hat. “We did indeed.”
Claire rolled her eyes. She didn’t have time for Logan’s antics. As Mrs. O’Neil started to respond, Claire held up her hand.
“No,” she said, “don’t tell us. I assume you have a destination in mind?” This she asked of Amy’s husband, looking at Randall to make sure he felt confident in the plan.
“We do,” he said, gripping Amy’s hands tightly. “New place, new names, new chance,” he said, looking firmly at his wife. “It’s more than I believed we’d have. We won’t mess it up.”
“Good,” Claire said. “I assume you have burner phones for us?” This time, she addressed Logan.
“How do you know about burner phones?” Amy asked, amused.
“I’ve watched a cop show or two in my day,” Claire snapped. “It’s not a tough concept. Now,” she glanced around her little circle again. Logan had said they weren’t safe here for very long. It was time to get Amy and Miguel on the road. “If Logan’s done his job the way I hope he has…” Here, she glanced at him again. That same irritating grin assured her of his confidence if not his competence. “If Logan’s done his job the way I hope he has, we all have a burner phone that we can use to contact each other.”
Randall Madison slipped a small, boxy phone from his pocket while Logan slapped a second one into Miguel’s hand.
“Good. But it’s important we don’t use them for awhile. We need to give each other a chance to get free of the area. Amy already has a destination, but what about Miguel?”
Unlike Amy, Miguel didn’t have any family waiting for him. Just like Claire. But she shook that thought off.
“Where is Miguel going?”
“Wherever Miguel would like,” Dr. Garrison said.
Claire looked at him, eyebrow cocked.
“Just like the Madison family is free to go wherever they would like. Logan gave them some suggestions of how to stay off the company’s radar, but they can live their new lives however they’d like.”
“So, Miguel,” Logan said, slapping the man on the back, “where would you like to go?” He nodded towards the ramshackle lean-to at the back of the property. “We have a little RV, outfitted with the best in military-grade glass to cut sunlight and reduce glare, just waiting for you to start your road trip.”
At this, Miguel perked up. “The glass does what?”
“We bought an old, used RV, not much to look at, actually,” Logan admitted, running a hand through his ridiculous blonde, curly hair, “and retrofitted it with a special glass my buddy was able to hook me up with.”
“The new windows should minimize the amount of particulate energy that can penetrate the glass, protecting your eyes from the sun and glare as much as possible,” Dr. Garrison explained. “Should make it easier to drive during the day, although not completely perfect.”
Miguel looked stunned. “So, I can drive again?”
Claire remembered the way Miguel had talked about his days as an over-the-road truck driver. It had mystified her, but there was a wistfulness to Miguel when he spoke of it. The freedom, the solitude, the ability to do what he wanted, when he wanted. Dr. Cans’ merry band of misfits had given that back to him.
Logan tossed a set of keys towards Miguel, and he snatched them out of the air. His face had taken on a look of anticipation. Joy, even.
“Thank you,” he said solemnly. “Thank you for this. You don’t know what it means to me.”
Logan reached out and clasped the hand that Miguel offered. “It’s not us you should be thanking,” he said. “But it was our pleasure.”
Dr. Garrison stepped forward. “It’s not safe to program numbers into the burn phones, but here.” He held out a scrap of paper towards Miguel. “These are the numbers to everyone else’s phones. Including ours. Memorize them, then burn them.”
“Only use them to check in on occasion, or if there’s an emergency. And make sure you delete your call log after every use. It’s not a perfect solution, but it will help slow them down if they’re ever recovered.”
“Anything else, sir?” Claire asked wryly, accepting her own scrap of paper and glancing at it briefly.
“No GPS location services. Although I’m sure that goes without saying.”
Oh, that smile. Claire had no doubt it had gotten him into, and out of, more trouble than he was worth.
Claire looked up, and looked around the small huddle of people one more time. If everything went as planned, they’d never see each other again.
Randall Madison reached out and shook both Logan and Dr. Garrison’s hands again while Amy reached down to fuss with her little boy’s coat. He had started to fidget in that way children do when they’ve been as still as they can, for as long as they can. It was time for them to get on the road.
“Do you know where you’ll go?” Claire asked Miguel.
“I have some ideas.” His voice held a quality she’d never heard in it before - excitement. “Been dreaming of them for over two years now. Just never thought I’d get the chance to see them again.”
“So long as it isn’t anywhere in New York, Arizona, Florida, Michigan, or across the Mexican border, you should be fine.”
“What’s wrong with those places?” Miguel asked, a confused frown spread across what was visible of his face.
Claire noticed Dr. Garrison tip his head to the left, studying her, but he didn’t ask. Claire held up the wallet.
“Because flights are about to be booked to those destinations in Mr. Robert Smith, CEO’s, name, courtesy of the good Dr. Allison Cans.”
“Smart,” Logan said. “Give them as many false trails to follow as you can. It’ll give you even more time to disappear.” He smiled, but it lacked its usual wattage. “Smart,” he said again, his eyes trailing back towards the truck, back the way they’d come.
And suddenly, Amy was in her arms.
“Claire,” she said, choking back the emotions that were threatening to swamp both of them. “You don’t know…you can never know…what you’ve done for me.” She clung to Claire as though she’d never see her again. Which, God willing, she wouldn’t.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for keeping me sane.” She pulled away so she could see Claire’s eyes. “Thank you for keeping me alive.”
They grasped hands, both silently acknowledging how close it had been for both of them. How not everyone had walked away.
Claire reached out, and Miguel met her halfway. Together, they formed a loose semi-circle, gripping hands, clinging to the only people in the world who could understand what they had been through, and what they would go through now.
“We’re out now.” Claire’s voice was strangled. She coughed, clearing the emotion away as much as she could. She supposed she could shift it all into her cave, shove it all away. But it felt wrong, somehow. The least she could do for them, one last time, was to share the burden.
“Remember that,” she started again. “Remember you’re out. And remember what you’ve learned. This thing,” she shrugged her shoulders up towards her head, “will try to trick us. It will try to kill us.” She looked at Amy. “Remember your son.” Locking eyes with Miguel, “Remember your freedom.” To all of them, “Remember Andre.”
“We’ll call, if it gets bad,” Amy assured her. “That counts as an emergency.”
“It does indeed,” Claire agreed.
One last squeeze and Claire released them, stepping back so Amy’s mother could grip her shoulders and turn her towards their car. As a family, they closed around her. Amy didn’t look back.
“Thank you, Claire,” Miguel said quietly. He ducked his head and turned towards the lean-to, the keys to a used RV swinging in his hand.
Claire didn’t watch them go. She had watched over them for the last two years but watching them walk away from her was more than she was able to bear. Instead, she turned to face her saviors. Or two-thirds of them, anyw
ay.
“What about you, Claire?” Dr. Garrison asked gently. “Where will you go?”
He watched her closely, waiting for her original reaction to resurface, ready to absolve her when it did. But Claire found that the energy she had saved for reviling Dr. David Garrison had dissolved. In its place were the questions she’d had before.
“For now,” she said, “I’ll be going wherever you’re going.”
“Beg your pardon?” asked Logan. He looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh at the joke or argue the point.
“I have questions, you have answers.” It was a simple enough concept. He should be able to grasp it.
Dr. Garrison’s contemplative look changed to one of understanding. He didn’t seem surprised in the least. Of course, he knew as well as anyone that she didn’t have anywhere else to go.
He nodded his head, accepting her decision. “And what questions do you have?” he asked quietly.
“I’d like you to tell me everything you know about the woman formerly known as Dr. Allison Cans.”
Chapter 56
Quincy
“Who are you, really?” Anderson asked. He appeared for all the world like a man with time on his hands.
“What’s so important down here that you’d risk your life to save it?” she countered. If it was important to him, it was probably important to her.
“You think all of our research is contained to documents and lab results,” he said condescendingly. “You forget about them, about the subjects themselves.”
“I forget about them?” Quincy was incredulous. “I forget them? I’m the one who spent every day of the last month with them. They were my sole concern.”
Quincy took a step closer to Anderson as subtly as she could. “How did you put it? I dismantled them, learned how to control them, and pieced them back together. But instead of handing you the trigger, I handed it back to them.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded. Red was seeping up his neck and he balled his fists. “What did you do?”
Burning Bridges (Shattered Highways Book 2) Page 31