by Ellery Kane
Cason offered no reply. He had been momentarily silenced.
Having extinguished one fire, Quin tried to calm Carrie. “He’s here now—like it or not—and we do need him.”
“Humph.” Carrie glowered at Cason, but nodded her assent.
One of the unfamiliar armed men reached inside the raft and produced a gun, offering it to me. I took it in my hand without hesitating. But in my mind, I saw a flash of Elliot’s face—not the cold, slack face of a dead man, but the animated face of living Elliot from his photograph. I remembered the ambush—my hesitation—I still wasn’t sure I could pull the trigger again, even if I had to.
Practically reading my thoughts, Quin told me, “Don’t even think about it—use it if you need to.” I wondered if he was also giving himself permission.
It took almost all of us to pull the small raft ashore and unload its contents: a large container with thirty vials of Resilire—enough to vaccinate the entire Guardian Force, recruits included—and two plastic cases housing the explosives. Quin, Max, Cason, and Edison went ahead of us.
The rest of the team followed behind, except for Hiro. From Resistance headquarters, he had already ensured that the two cameras near the lab were on a running loop, playing the security footage from the same time on Saturday night. He would wait on the boat until we returned, using his computer to access the internal Guardian Force network. Once the meeting began, Hiro would upload the video to the screens inside the debriefing room.
The night air was cold, and the wind off the water, colder. Even though I was breathing heavily from the hike, my teeth chattered. I could see Quin up ahead, his silhouette barely visible. Suddenly he stopped, holding up his hand to signal the rest of us. His unexpected movement sent a whoosh of adrenaline coursing through me as if it had been injected straight into my heart, each pump sending panic through my veins.
Quin was looking at something near the rocks—an object glistening, caught by the moonlight. He lowered his hand and walked toward it, his weapon drawn. We all followed cautiously. As I approached, the object came into view, revealing itself. It was a watch … on a man’s wrist … with a Guardian tattoo visible beneath it.
Quin reached down and touched the man’s face, checking for signs of life. I imagined his skin was so cold. Just past the man, floating in the shallow water near the rocks, were several bodies, likely executed Guardian recruits.
“He’s been shot,” Quin told us. “He’s … they’re … dead.” Quin released the man’s body. It drifted toward the others, where it logjammed against them.
I felt nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. A muffled cry of dread rose up in my throat. It wasn’t for the recruit, but for myself, as I realized that just like for him, for me, this night would have no real end. It was like the first tip in a long line of dominoes. Whatever happened, there was no going back.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
THE LAB
THE MODEL INDUSTRIES BUILDING ROSE up from the northwest corner of the island. Three stories tall, it had once served as a work site for inmates. Now it was coated in thick rust from years of exposure to the salty sea winds. According to Quin, behind its ancient walls, the building had been updated and modernized. The lab was located on the upper level, accessible by an elevator that was secured with a biometric identification pad, similar to the one at Resistance headquarters.
We planned to try Edison’s fingerprint first. It had been only a month since his abrupt dismissal, and we were hopeful his print hadn’t been deleted from the system. Edison had even agreed to wear his Guardian recruit uniform, marked Greenhorn 558 on the sleeve, just in case a change in plan required him to blend in here.
After cutting a small hole through the thirteen-foot, razor-wire fence, Quin waited as we all crawled through cautiously. Once we were safely inside, Cason halted us, pointing to two armed men walking near the back entrance to the building. They were patrolling the perimeter of the lab.
When they were out of sight, we filed into the building, and Quin set the timer on his watch. The patrol required six minutes to complete, giving us about five and a half minutes to swap the drugs and get out unseen before the guards returned.
Quin led us down a long, narrow corridor to the elevators. Initially, he had intended to stay behind, but when everyone else appeared reluctant, Quin volunteered to place the explosives. Max, Cason, and two of the other armed men remained on the first floor to neutralize the guards if they returned earlier than expected. Though their weapons were at the ready, we were all clear on one thing: It was essential not to raise suspicion.
Edison placed his finger against the elevator’s keypad, as the rest of us watched without breathing. There was a short beep as the floor numbers lit up in green. The words Identity Confirmed rolled across the small screen. Edison grinned with relief and pushed the number three. The elevator jolted to a start, and I met my mother’s eyes. We appeared to be having the same thought—so far, the plan had gone perfectly. So far.
The Guardian Force lab and research facility was immense. As soon as the elevator doors opened, I noticed a massive generator occupying the right corner of the room. It quickly occurred to me that the source of the power outages was right here. The demand for electricity required by the pharmaceutical companies’ manufacturing equipment would have easily overwhelmed the power grid. With that generator, the Guardian Force had ensured that at least one part of the island would never go dark.
Behind a glass partition, there were at least twenty large steel drums connected with sections of thick pipe. Each drum was marked—Agitor, Onyx, or Emovere—and notated with a batch number indicating its strength and composition. Hundreds of computers, most of their screens dark, lined the walls.
My eyes were drawn toward one of the lit screens. At the top, large block letters read Recruiting. An Internet site was open, a red flag marking one of the headlines, “Fire Consumes Home: Fifteen-year-old Girl, Lone Survivor.” Trauma, no family—essentially an ideal Guardian Force recruit. I shook my head in disgust.
Quin pointed us to a tray of vials marked with Monday’s date, June 10, 2041. My mother and I began swapping out the glass vials, handing the castoffs to Elana. As we worked, my mother’s hands shook. She bobbled one of the vials, catching it just before it met its end on the cement floor.
“Mom, relax,” I whispered, even though my own fingers were pulsing with apprehension.
“Four minutes,” Quin announced. In the otherwise silent room, the echoes of his voice unnerved me.
I watched as Quin placed the explosive charges—one under a lab table, the other inside the nearby server room, out of sight behind a tangle of wires. The charges had been carefully shaped to contain the impact since my mother was determined to minimize damage to the other buildings. The timer was set for 7:05 a.m., shortly after the start of the Guardian Force debriefing. When Quin’s work was done, he looked up at us eagerly.
“Three minutes, ten seconds. Let’s go.”
We hurried from the lab back down to the first floor where the others were waiting.
“Two minutes,” Quin said calmly.
Outside, there was no sign of the guards. A faint sliver of sun was just beginning to emerge on the horizon. I couldn’t believe our luck. We were already on the trail heading back to the boat when I heard the faint beep of Quin’s watch.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
LUCK RAN OUT
ON THE WAY BACK TO the boat, I felt light, overcome with relief, almost giddy. Still, there was that undeniable lump of dread sticking in my throat. I tried to push it way down inside myself, but as we passed the executed recruits’ resting place, I felt my eyes pulled to the water where the bloated bodies floated near the rocks. I attempted to resist the urge to stare. The longer I looked, the harder it was to contain my foreboding.
Hiro was partially concealed under the tarp, his face lit by the computer screen. His eyes told the story. Our luck had run out.
“I can’t do it,” he said, frustra
tion sharpening his voice. “I’ve tried everything. There’s no way around their firewall.”
No one spoke. Everyone’s eyes turned toward my mother.
“So you haven’t been able to upload the video?” she asked. “The meeting starts in less than an hour.”
Hiro shook his head, dejected.
Cason climbed aboard the boat. “I’m done here,” he announced. “In about an hour, the lab is going to blow, and Ryker will either be dead or in handcuffs. That’s what I came to do.”
The armed men from the Resistance nodded their heads in agreement.
Carrie clenched her fists and looked at Cason. “I knew it,” she said. “You were here for Augustus … doing his dirty work … getting rid of Ryker.”
Cason laughed haughtily. “Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t. Either way, Ryker’s minutes are numbered. Who cares about the stupid video?”
“I care,” my mother replied. “The Guardian Force needs to know the truth. Once the government arrests Ryker that video will never be released. I know how these things work.”
“Mom …” I tried to silence the desperation in my voice. “As much as I hate to admit it, I agree with Cason. We did everything we came to do, and we’re all okay. Please, let’s just leave now.”
Frustrated, my mother approached Hiro, snatching the drive with the video download from his hand.
“I’ll do it myself if I have to,” she said, resolute. She produced a copy of the map from inside her pocket and began walking determinedly toward the main buildings with no concern for her surroundings. I knew she was heading for the Quartermaster building, marked on the map in Quin’s handwriting with the words Monday Debriefing/Injection site. Just a few years ago, the building was derelict, barely standing. Quin said it had been demolished, a state-of-the-art meeting complex erected in its place.
“You really are crazy!” Cason called after her. He had already begun to untie the boat. Hiro, still sitting inside it, eyed him with uncertainty.
I surveyed the area with alarm. We were making too much noise.
“Cason, shut up!” Edison’s voice was an urgent whisper.
Immediately, I turned to Quin. His eyes were following my mother.
“She’s going,” I assured him.
“What should we do?” Elana asked me. Her face was distraught.
“We can’t let her go alone,” Max answered for me. “She’ll never make it back.”
Saying nothing, Quin began walking briskly, trying to catch up to my mother. I followed him, Max and Elana close behind me.
I heard Edison groan. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” But I knew he would follow.
When I turned to look back, I saw Carrie standing by the boat. Her mouth was open. She seemed undecided. Then one of the armed men grabbed her by the arm, pulling her aboard. She shrugged off his grasp, but she didn’t protest, and I didn’t blame her. In another life, I was on that boat too, watching Alcatraz disappear behind me. But in this life, everyone I loved, with the exception of my father, was walking in the opposite direction. Though there was only one choice, I knew one thing for certain—this wasn’t going to end well.
Quin was running now. He quickly caught up to my mother and pulled her into a small shed behind one of the nearby buildings. As we approached, I could faintly hear his voice addressing her.
“… just run off like that. You’re putting us all in danger.” His tone was gentle, but firm.
When we opened the door behind them, I finally saw my mother’s face. She had the look of a reprimanded schoolgirl.
“I’m sorry,” she said to all of us. “I just … I want to … I need to do this.”
While she was speaking, I heard the crunch of gravel as boots approached the shed. Quin held his finger to his lips, and I quieted my breathing. Elana grabbed my arm, her fingertips making deep indentations in my flesh.
A deep, unfamiliar voice came from outside. “Is someone there?”
Nearest the door, Edison waited patiently for the turn of the handle. When it came, he pulled the Guardian inside and covered his mouth. The man’s eyes were wide with surprise, Edison’s hand containing his scream. Edison wrapped his arm around the man’s neck, holding tight until the man’s legs stopped moving. The Guardian collapsed to the ground in a heap, his face as purple as a bruise. On his uniform, I saw his identification, Legacy 188.
Exhausted, Edison supported himself against the shed’s wall, breathing audibly. Quin and Max bound and gagged the man using pieces of his uniform and dragged him to the corner of the shed where he remained, his head slumped awkwardly to the side.
My mother was near tears, her eyes wild. I grabbed her shoulders with intent.
“Mom, you have to pull it together. If we do this, we have to be smart about it. Look at what just happened.” I gestured toward the crumpled Guardian.
She nodded, slowly regaining her composure. “I’m okay,” she said unconvincingly.
Quin peered from a small hole inside the shed’s wall. He looked at his watch before speaking in a hushed voice.
“It’s 6:45. The meeting starts in fifteen minutes. The injections usually start early. In fact, they’ve probably already begun.” My mother’s face brightened.
Quin continued. “Ryker detests lateness so most of the Guardian Force will be there in five minutes. We’re going to have to split up. Lex, you and Max will cover us from here on the hill.” Quin pointed to a spot on the map marked Water Tower. “The rest of us will go inside. Once we deal with the guard in the control room, we can access the video monitors from there.”
I took a deep breath before speaking. “I’m going inside, Quin.” I was surprised at my voice. I sounded certain.
Quin bit his lip. I imagined that he considered talking me out of it, but he didn’t try. There was no time.
“Elana, you stay with Max.” He glanced sternly at me, the look in his eyes a reminder of just how impossible it was for him to say those words.
Turning to Edison, Quin said, “We’ll need you to get us in.” He pointed to the badge on Edison’s uniform, and Edison nodded.
Quin left the shed first, gesturing for us to follow him. Down below us, a remaining few members of the Guardian Force were running toward the Quartermaster building. Late for their meeting, they scurried like ants. We waited for most of them to disappear into the building before we began our approach. Max and Elana maneuvered cautiously toward the base of the water tower, positioned just above the Quartermaster building.
As the rest of us watched, concealed behind the wall of the building, Edison fell into line, jogging behind two Guardian Force recruits, his uniform camouflaging him perfectly. Abruptly, one of the recruits turned to him.
“Hey man, do you know if Ryker’s here yet?” The recruit asked nervously.
Edison shrugged. “No clue,” he responded, allowing the recruit to skirt into the doorway in front of him. Edison held the door, pausing for a moment before calling us over.
Inside, Quin pointed down a long hallway. “Debriefing,” he whispered.
I listened for voices, footsteps, anything, but I heard only the hum of the air conditioner and the sound of my own breathing, rapid and labored—just on the edge of panic. Not now, I warned myself.
We went opposite of the meeting room, down another long hallway. My mother and I walked in front, our guns at our sides, while Quin and Edison kept a permanent watch behind us. I noticed that almost all the doors were secured with a biometric keypad like the elevator.
“The third door on the right,” Quin whispered.
Suddenly and without knowing why, I felt my body tense. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck rose in alert. From behind, I heard a familiar voice, General Ryker. He was late to his own meeting. There was another voice as well, a woman’s voice.
Instinctively, I pressed my body to the wall, still making my way toward the third door. My mother was up ahead, almost there. Quin and Edison were frozen against the wall behind me, their guns ready.
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“We need to call the lab,” the woman’s voice said. “There’s something off in the dosing. A lot of them seem … I don’t know … restless or something.”
“Do it,” Ryker commanded. “I’ll be in shortly.” The sound of his boots faded into silence.
I relaxed for a second—less than a second—but far too long. When I looked up, a towering steeple of a man had my mother’s arms pinned behind her; her weapon was secured in his waistband. Another member of the Guardian Force, stocky and red-haired, had his gun pointed at me. Quin and Edison were gone.
The red-haired man spoke, fixing his eyes upon me abnormally. “Lower your weapon. Set it on the floor, and slide it to me.” His voice was ice. If he had been injected with Resilire, it certainly wasn’t working.
I complied with his order, watching my gun scuttle across the floor like a large insect. As the man reached down to pick up the gun, taking his eyes from me for a moment, I heard Quin’s voice.
“Lex, get down,” he directed.
I dropped to the floor, the impact jarring me just in time to feel a bullet whiz past. As the shot struck him, the towering man fell, a red mist exploding from his chest. He released his grip on my mother and collapsed to the floor, pulling her down with him. His gun dropped within feet of me. I crawled on my belly, inching toward it.
Hidden behind a corner, Quin and Edison continued to exchange fire with the red-haired man. The bullets careened around me, cracking the air like a whip. Though Quin had explained that most of the rooms in the complex were bullet and soundproof, I was shocked, but grateful, that somehow all this bedlam attracted no attention.
“Stay down, Mom!” I yelled to her forcefully so that she could hear my voice through the volley of gunfire.
Taking the towering man’s gun, I aimed for the red-haired Guardian. He was dragging my mother through an open doorway, firing shots at me over his shoulder. Without hesitating, without even a thought of Elliot, I squeezed the trigger. The red-haired man collapsed to the ground.