“Yes, sir,” Carrie nodded firmly.
“Let’s do this. Welles, get in back,” he said, quickly wiping away more sweat that had gathered on his forehead.
Carrie took over McKinley’s coverage of the east corridor, while he turned and covered west with Harris. They began to move back along the corridor, with Harris walking slightly in front on the left-hand side and McKinley on the right. Carrie walked sideways, keeping her eye on the rear, as well as trying to ready herself for a frontal attack. Her hands were moist. It was so hot, she was pouring with sweat. She wished she’d taken off her long-sleeved shirt when Harris and McKinley had, but she’d wanted the extra pockets for the syringes and sugar solution.
They cleared Section Two and slowly entered back into Section One. It was dark. Very dark.
Harris flicked on his weapon’s spotlight, and Carrie and McKinley followed suit, scoping things out. She quickly glanced around to the front and saw that the office lights were out, as were the corridor lights; glass crunched beneath their feet. The only light she could see was coming through from the dock, as it distantly rimmed the entry doors in white. She’d never been afraid of the dark before, but now, in this pitch blackness, knowing what was out there, she was.
She suddenly heard one of them dart across the hall behind her. She swiftly turned and fired, the golden beam of laser fire hitting the wall and sparking off. She’d missed.
Fuck!
*
Harris listened for the aftermath.
“You hit him?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the corridor in front.
“No,” she whispered.
“Captain, what’s your gun reading in terms of body heat?” McKinley asked quietly.
Harris looked down at the screen atop his weapon. It was one big orange blur. He nodded to himself. “That’s why they turned up the heat. So we can’t see where they are. Be ready.”
*
Carrie saw a silhouetted figure dart across the hall again. She flashed her gun’s light in its direction and fired off another shot. She’d been closer this time, but still missed. They heard laughter. It was Chet.
“Keep it steady,” Harris said in a low voice, walking slowly.
They approached Sharley’s office on the right. Harris passed it, then McKinley. Slowly, quietly, they flashed their lights inside the darkened room, but saw nothing. They moved on, focusing their lights back on the corridor in front of them. Carrie followed, keeping her eyes fixed on the corridor behind them. As she passed Sharley’s office, two large shapes suddenly launched out at them. She swung her gun around, but her assailant was too fast. He knocked the weapon away with one hand and punched her face with the other, knocking her to the ground. She heard McKinley fire, but he missed, as the Jumbo ducked then lunged, sending the lieutenant thudding back into the glass wall behind.
“Fuck!” Brown’s voice hissed over the headset.
Carrie took a second, dazed, her cheek throbbing from the hard punch. She looked around the darkened corridor at the dancing weapon lights, red target beams, and occasional golden laser firing off the walls or floor. Her eyes made out Logan wrestling with Harris and his gun, and the other Jumbo—she assumed it was Oxer—wrestling with McKinley and his. Her eyes fixed on her gun, which had slid down the corridor, its light like a beacon of hope. She scampered for it in the darkness, but Chet swiftly appeared and kicked it out of reach. She instinctively grabbed the handgun tucked down the back of her pants, took aim and fired. He ducked around the bend in the corridor, but she was sure she caught him with the shot, as he grunted in pain. She spun back around and tried to find a shot at the others. They were moving about rapidly, and she panicked that she might hit the wrong person in the shadows of the erratic light.
She edged toward them, trying to take aim, keeping her back to the wall, ready if Chet returned. McKinley rammed Oxer into the wall, but swiftly got smashed back into the opposite wall, all the while refusing to let go of his gun. Oxer looked strong, his long ginger hair stuck to his sweating face. They continued to struggle, moving about, neither giving an inch.
Harris and Logan wrestled their way into Sharley’s darkened office. Carrie fired high through the glass wall, shattering it, trying to get a better view and scare Logan, but other than a minor flinch, it had little impact. Both Logan and Harris, still wrestling, went flying over the desk and fell off the other side, disappearing. She squinted through the blackness but couldn’t see anything to take aim.
She swung her gun back to McKinley. Oxer had him pinned against the wall, pressing his gun across his throat; the weapon’s light illuminating off the splintered glass beside them. Oxer suddenly stomped violently on McKinley’s lower leg. He yelled out in pain, as it buckled beneath him, dropping his body lower toward the floor. She saw her opportunity for a clear shot, raised her gun and fired. Oxer’s head sprayed over the glass wall behind him, his long ginger hair blending into the flesh and blood of the explosion. His body flopped, almost in slow motion, to the ground.
Exhausted, McKinley let his body collapse to the floor beside Oxer, his upper body shining wet with the Jumbo’s blood. Suddenly she heard footsteps running off down the corridor behind her. She swept her gun around, but it was too late. Chet was gone. She turned back to Sharley’s office, and saw that Logan and Harris had vanished. All was quiet. She squinted through the darkness and saw the lights on the elevator were blinking. Did they go up?
She quickly spun back around to McKinley, who sat on the floor holding his leg. It was clearly broken and he was gritting his teeth, trying to fight the pain. She moved over to stand in front of him, scanning the corridor in cover. Her mind was racing. What do I do? Where’s Chet? Where’s Logan? Where’s Harris? Where the fuck is Harris?
“Good shot, Welles!” Doc’s voice came steadily over the headset, startling her. He’d obviously been waiting until it was clear before he’d spoken.
“They’ve got Harris. What do I do?” she asked, a little panicky.
“Logan turned his headset off, but Harris was still alive when he did it,” he told her.
“Do I get him? Or do I get McKinley back to the ship?” Carrie asked.
“No,” McKinley said, his voice tight with pain. “Hand me my gun. Go find Harris!”
“I can’t leave you here, McKi—”
“Yes, you can!” he said, cutting her off. “But you can’t leave Harris with them. Just hand me my gun.”
Carrie didn’t answer, she stood in front of him, flicking her head back and forth, eyeing either side of the corridor.
McKinley groaned in pain. “Welles, my back’s to the wall, they can’t surprise me. They have to come face on, in my sight-line. So just fuckin’ go. Now!” He breathed heavily to control the pain. “That’s an order!”
“Doc, are you sure he’s still alive?” she asked.
“Yes… but I don’t know how long for.”
She looked at McKinley.
He stared back hard. “I’ll guard the corridor. Just get him and bring him back,” he said.
She nodded, picked up his gun and handed it to him, then swiftly removed her bullaser and long-sleeved shirt. She felt instantly better. She’d been sweating hard, and her singlet underneath was saturated. She decided to leave the vest behind. They weren’t going to kill her, right? She quickly grabbed the syringes from her shirt pocket on the floor, placed two in her pants pockets and handed one to McKinley.
“Just in case,” she told him.
He took it, eyeing her apprehensively. She then took her sugar concentrate out of her pocket, ripped one open and gave it to him. He swallowed it in a single gulp. Then she downed one herself, and slowly moved into Sharley’s office.
“Welles!” McKinley whispered loudly into his mouthpiece.
She turned around.
“Don’t lose your gun!” His fierce blue eyes pierced through the shadowy light at hers.
She gave him a nod, then stalked into the
office, over to the elevator. She hit the button, took a sharp stance with her gun out in front, and it opened. She looked in and saw Harris’s vest on the floor and a small amount of blood smeared across the wall.
*
Harris wasn’t sure why, but Logan hadn’t killed him. They’d fought their way through Sharley’s office, and into the open elevator. Somehow in the struggle, Logan managed to take Harris’s gun, and ordered him to remove his vest. As soon as he had, Logan dug the butt of the rifle into his ribs a couple of times and Harris heard them crack. Some were broken, he could feel the sharp, burning pain, and his breathing grew tight. But instead of finishing him off, Logan simply aimed the gun in his face and ordered him to turn off his headset.
When the elevator opened on the secret floor, Logan backed out slowly, sticking his leg in the door and keeping the gun on Harris. Chet was waiting for them, his left arm covered in blood. Welles must’ve caught him. Good. He’s injured.
Chet smiled at him. “Captain Harris. Welcome,” he said, in a most pleasant English manner, which he then dropped for a darker, more serious tone. “Come. Join us.”
Chet waved his hand and motioned for Harris to step out of the elevator. He figured he had no choice. He got up slowly, trying not to let them see he was in pain and walked out onto the floor. His mind briefly ventured to thoughts of Welles and McKinley. He’d heard McKinley yell in pain and he’d heard a gunshot, but he was confident that Oxer was down. He had to be. Welles was there with her gun. It was two against one.
“Please, sit,” Chet said, holding out a chair for him.
Harris eyed them both as he took it. “What do you want?” he asked them. “Why haven’t you killed me?”
Chet gave a low guttural laugh. “Why kill you when I can use you as ransom … or bait. I have the King of the Aurora. Long live the king!”
“They will not hand over the women. I guarantee you that,” Harris said, with a cold hard stare.
“Looks like she’s coming to us,” Logan said, looking at a screen above the elevator.
Harris darted his eyes to it. There was Welles rising in the elevator with her gun out. Fuck! Why didn’t she head back with McKinley to the ship?
“WELLES, NO! GO BACK DOWN!” he yelled.
Logan stepped to and hit him across the head with the gun. The crack knocked him off his chair and landed him on the floor with a thud.
“Get him out of here,” Chet ordered. “I’ll take care of this. The bitch shot me!”
Harris, dazed, felt Logan pull him to his feet, then suddenly he was being shoved down a darkened corridor, with a gun to the back of his head.
*
Carrie was taking deep breaths, trying to steady her racing heart and sweating, jittery hands. Where’s Harris? Is he still alive? Is it safe to leave McKinley below? She felt uneasy that they were now all separated. She tried to focus, her father’s face flashing briefly in her mind. She needed to be steady if she was going to shoot straight. She gripped her pistol tight, ready for whatever was going to be on the other side of the door. Finally it opened, and she saw Chet standing there, hands up in surrender. Her arms instantly jerked, ready to shoot, but there was no sign of Harris.
“You got me!” Chet smirked, wiggling his hands in the air like some cabaret performer.
Carrie’s eyes darted around the room. He appeared to be alone.
“Where’s Harris?” she asked, sticking her foot against the elevator door.
“Around,” he answered, dropping his arms by his side. “Do come in.”
“Tell me where he is, or I’ll blow your fucking head off,” she hissed. She knew there was no time for games.
“Oh, I do believe that, Corporal Welles. You’re a very good shot. Poor Fairmont was not expecting that from you. Nor Oxer, for that matter. You’ve taken out two of our boys, corporal. And you’re going to have to pay for that.”
“WHERE’S HARRIS?” she yelled.
“Come out of there and I’ll show you.”
“I don’t trust you!”
“Then shoot me and find him yourself,” he said in an uninterested tone, “but if you shoot me, Harris will certainly die.”
Carrie stared at him for a moment. “How do I know he’s even still alive?”
“Logan?” Chet spoke as though the other survivor was standing right next to him. “Corporal Welles needs to know that Harris is still alive. Can you show her?”
In the distance she heard a thud and a groan, then Harris yelled, “WELLES, GET BACK TO THE SHIP!” Then she heard another louder thud, and things went quiet.
“See,” Chet said calmly. “Now, how about you step off that elevator and we’ll go say hello?”
“No, you bring him to me!” she fired back.
Chet laughed to himself, shaking his head, “So stubborn …”
“NOW!” Carrie yelled, breathing heavily in anger.
Chet dropped his laugh, and his eyes turned cold. “You want him, then you come and get him.”
Carrie’s mind raced, and the seconds ticked by.
“Be careful, Welles.” Doc’s voice came over her headset. “Make him walk in front of you and keep your back to the wall.” It was somewhat reassuring to know she had Doc, Packham, Brown and McKinley with her over her headset. She didn’t feel alone, even though she knew she really was.
She nudged herself slowly out of the elevator. “After you,” she said, motioning with her gun for him to move.
“Very well.” He bowed to her.
He turned and started walking down the corridor at the far end of the open office space. It was dark, like the corridor below. She walked behind him, ensuring she was out of his reach, but close enough that she could still see his outline, to have a good clear shot at his head with her pistol. He turned around occasionally and smiled at her. It was very quiet, so much so that her heavy breathing sounded almost like a roar. She kept her back to the wall like Doc said, and kept darting her head around either side to check it was clear.
“How far?” she eventually asked. “His voice wasn’t this far.”
“He’s just down here,” Chet said pointing further down the corridor. “Can’t you see?”
She squinted her eyes, trying to get a better look at where he was pointing, when she suddenly heard a flurry of movement beside her. She snapped her head around and saw a dark shape descending upon her. She instantly swung her weapon and fired, as she felt a heavy blow to the side of the head.
Then everything went black.
*
Harris heard Logan and Chet talking heatedly in the distance.
“Fuck, Logan! You’ve probably fractured her fucking skull!”
“She nearly blew my fucking head off,” Logan growled. “I heard the goddamned bullet zip past my ear. Look, it’s bleeding. We can’t risk her getting off another shot. This way she’s out good!”
While they argued, Harris crept away as deathly quiet as he could. He knew they might hear him otherwise. He took out the pistol he’d had strapped to his ankle, glad that Logan had been too sloppy to frisk him for it, then flicked his headset back on. His ribs hurt and he could feel blood running down the back of his neck from where Logan had hit him. He’d blacked out for a second, but continued to play unconscious to fool Logan into walking away from him. He did. And now Harris was trying, ever so silently, to escape.
25
Survival of the Fittest
Carrie was having a dream. She felt like she was floating in space. Floating in complete blackness, as her body moved about in the wind. It was cold against her skin: her belly, her arms, her cheek. And the wind was strong, pushing her cheek upward and forcing one leg backward in the air. She heard a voice. A man’s voice. At first she couldn’t make out what he was saying, then it slowly became clearer, as though marching its way through a dense, gray fog.
“Welles! Welles, can you hear me?”
She wondered who it was, then pictured Doc’s fa
ce in her mind. It sounded a lot like him.
She felt a heavy weight begin to press against her head, over her left eye, cheekbone and ear.
“Carrie?” Doc’s voice called again. “Carrie, it’s Doc. Can you hear me?”
And the pain grew heavier, and the wind grew thick and hard against her belly and cheek. And she felt something tight around her ankle, the one blown back in the air. She slowly opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry and red. Red? She blinked heavily. She saw something go past her vision. Something black. Something rectangular. She blinked heavily again. She felt tired. She opened her eyes slowly once more, then she saw another black rectangle. A doorway? She tried to straighten her head, but she couldn’t. Something was in her way. She looked down at it. It was white, smooth and felt icy cold, but it was too blurry to make out.
“Fuck! Carrie, can you hear me? Are you okay?” Doc was sounding panicked now.
She moved her eyes slowly over to look at her outstretched arms, and saw a line of red by her left arm. She followed the line, down to her hands and stared at them a moment. Something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t think what. She blinked heavily again … then suddenly she clicked. Her hands were empty. My gun! Her eyes widened with terror as she suddenly realized where she was. That was not wind, cold against her belly and pushing her cheek upward. It was the floor. She was being dragged by her ankle, along the floor!
Her head pounded and throbbed. Fuck! What do I do? She wanted to ask Doc but couldn’t put the words to her mouth. She focused for a moment, trying to tell if her headset was still on. Of course it was. That was why she’d heard Doc’s voice. She looked back at her hands and wiggled them slightly, then very subtly made an “okay” sign with her thumb, holding it in the direction of her camera. She had to let the flight deck know she was alright.
“She moved! She’s okay,” she heard Doc say, sounding relieved but still anxious.
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