“Hurry!” Burke hissed.
Hauser heard the door open, and she saw Burke’s silhouette framed in the glow of the hallway’s emergency lighting. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Hauser launched off her cot and hustled out the door. As soon as she stepped past Burke, Burke pushed the door closed… just in time for the lights to start flickering and the mag-lock to reactivate.
A shrill alarm siren filled the hall and assaulted their ears. Hauser didn’t know if they caused it or if it related to whatever that bang was, but she had no intention of being a good, little prisoner and waiting for these people to eventually kill her. She pivoted to Burke and leaned close to her ear to be heard.
“You know they’ll kill us eventually, right?”
Burke replied with a grim nod as she winced against the auditory assault.
“You willing to go out like a sheep led to slaughter?”
Burke shook her head.
“Okay. Let’s see how far we get.”
* * *
It wasn’t long until they encountered the first contingent of armed personnel. A small squad charged past an intersection up ahead of them, and they darted into a recessed doorway. It didn’t seem like they’d been discovered. While Burke watched the hallway, Hauser checked the door. No joy. Locked. She tapped Burke’s right shoulder and gave the hand signal to move on.
Five more recessed doorways between them and the hallway intersection…
The next was locked as well. So was the one after that. The third door after that first one was not locked, and Hauser edged it open to peek inside. It looked like a mechanical room of some kind, and her eyes keyed in on three people standing around what looked to be an electrical panel. At least the one section throwing sparks all over hell and gone led Hauser to believe it was an electrical panel.
Hauser eased the door closed and tapped Burke’s left shoulder. When Burke glanced her way, Hauser flashed the signals for an open entry and three people. Burke nodded. Hauser opened the door just far enough to squeeze through, keeping her eyes on the trio clustered around the panel. Just as she feared the increased volume of the alarm would give them away, a speaker on the wall opposite the electrical panel warbled to life and began blaring.
Hauser and Burke hustled through the door and closed it while one of the trio crossed the room, lifted a crowbar, and ripped the wires out of the speaker. They crouched behind a stack of large spoils of cable.
Ah… blessed silence. Well, except for that sparking panel…
“Thanks, Nate. Those damn fools in the security office must’ve reset the broadcast network or something. I had that speaker turned off,” one of the people—a man with a high nasal voice—said.
“So, what the hell happened?” another man asked, his voice reminding Hauser of the rumble of thunder.
“Well, the effect appears to be a fried transfer switch that prevented the generator bank from taking the bunker’s load. I had to rig this cable just to get us back up and running. As for the cause, I don’t know. Obviously, a power surge of some kind, but I’m not sure even a lightning strike could have done this,” Nasal Voice answered.
“What about that ranger station we’re using as a cover to get power from the grid?” the third guy asked, and as he turned Hauser saw a gruesome scar running from his right temple to his jaw line.
Nasal Voice shrugged. “Again, I don’t know. Weather’s been clear all day. We’re not even supposed to have clouds overhead until tomorrow. I’ve never seen anything blow a transfer switch like this. Whatever it was fused the switch. Fused—like welded it together or something.”
“Whoa,” Scarface opined. “Now, that’s some power.”
Nasal Voice turned and just stared at Scarface. Hauser couldn’t see the man’s expression, but she figured it communicated an utter certainty that Scarface was an idiot. “That’s what I’ve been saying! Have you not listened to a word I’ve said?”
Hauser shook her head. She’d had enough of this. A quick series of hand signals informed Burke to take Scarface while she took Thunder Voice. Burke nodded her agreement, and they moved to have a clear path for a charge.
Burke signaled ‘ready,’ and Hauser replied with the ‘go’ signal.
In a contest of strength—and only strength—no woman can compete with a man, especially if the man maintains his body and trains with weights. Of course, most confrontations involve more than just strength. Such as… Hauser was a soccer star in school and had focused on her fitness since then. Just as Burke delivered a knife-hand strike to Scarface’s throat, Hauser put all her power and momentum into a kick to Thunder Voice’s groin.
Scarface went down, clutching his throat. Thunder Voice hit a new octave and collapsed to his knees, then doubled over as a high-pitched (for him) keening escaped his lips.
Nasal Voice made the mistake of gaping at the new state of affairs. He had not even moved when Burke pivoted and kicked the back of his knee. Hauser timed a rabbit punch to his throat to arrive a split-second before his knees hit the floor, so the combined force was much greater than it otherwise might have been.
Okay. They were safe—for the moment.
Hauser pulled a set of side-cutters from Thunder Voice’s belt, passing them to Burke as she said, “See if you can find some cable like phone line or something to tie these guys up with. I’ll make sure they don’t rally.”
Burke pointed to Scarface as she accepted the side-cutters. “I’m not sure rallying is in that guy’s cards. His lips are turning blue.”
Hauser set to searching their captives for anything they could use while Burke went in search of improvised restraints. She didn’t like the idea that one or more of these guys might die, but she truly felt in fear for her life. Which made all this self-defense… at least, she hoped it did.
By the time Burke returned with some cordage, Hauser had three wallets, three keycards, some pocket change, a couple key rings, a handful of what looked like phone connectors, and two pocketknives. One was a spring-assist with a locking blade. That would help. Any weapon was better than no weapon. Hauser paused her efforts to assist Burke with restraining their prizes, and as they turned to Scarface, Hauser saw the point was largely moot. He still struggled to breathe, but it was a mere shadow or minuscule fraction of what it has been. As much as Hauser wanted to offer him at least a little dignity at the end, she couldn’t bring herself to leave a potential threat behind her. Nasal Voice wasn’t far behind him.
Over the next few minutes, they consolidated what they were taking—the two knives, the keycards, and all the cash and coinage—then headed for the door. As they left, only Thunder Voice remained alive, and he shouted imprecations and threats at the top of his lungs… for all the good it did. Even to their mere human senses, they could still hear the alarm wailing through the door.
As they closed the door to the electrical room behind them, Hauser leaned close to Burke’s ear and asked, “Were you ever in the military?”
Burke only shook her head to answer ‘no,’ rather than fight to be heard over the alarm, and Hauser felt like cursing. She hadn’t gone to the military, either. They could have really used some hand-to-hand combat training beyond what their respective police academies and Quantico taught.
With a tap to Burke’s shoulder and a hand signal, they moved. The remaining doors between them and the intersection had no immediately useful items. They were storage rooms for the electrical room and maybe a machine shop somewhere. Yes, if either of them had the proper training and knowledge, those rooms probably held a wealth of items for improvised weaponry, but nothing Hauser saw brought any good ideas to mind.
They cleared the intersection as best they could and didn’t see anyone. They also didn’t see any signs, either. Hauser hated the idea of following the people they saw, but she had no idea how to get out. They’d brought them both into the bunker wearing thick felt hoods. The exit could be anywhere.
Still not liking the idea at all, Hauser signaled for Burke t
o head the same way they’d seen the people running.
* * *
Minutes passed without further contact. No sign of anyone. An eerie feeling settled around Hauser’s shoulders and steadily grew the longer they crept along without further encounters. She just knew they waited around a corner somewhere in a massive ambush with machine guns and grenades. And that damned alarm didn’t help.
They crept through a hallway that gently curved to the right and found a doorway with a red placard beside it. No words. Just a slightly off-square piece of metal painted red. Hauser pointed to the placard and door, eliciting a shrug from Burke. Awesome communication, there. Well, the nameless security guys on Star Trek always wore red shirts, so maybe this was the security office?
Hauser fought to keep from snorting in amusement. That was not a proper decision-making paradigm, but she feared the adrenaline and stress was getting to her. What the hell… the only way to know was to try. The door was locked, but one wall of the doorway held a keycard reader. She fished the keycards out of her pocket—thank goodness the scrubs had them—and tried the first one. Red light. Second? Red light. But the third? The reader’s indicator flashed green with a chirp, and Hauser tried the door again. It swung open.
Two people—one man and one woman—sat at a curved console that faced a wall of borderless monitors. They had microphones on the console in front of them, and they both turned toward the door.
“Oh, shit,” the man said. “They’re loose!”
Well, no time to waste. Hauser erupted into a charge as Burke followed close behind her. Both people jumped out of their seats and pawed at the holsters on their belts. Hauser reached the guy before he drew on her and made a jumping lunge at him. Her impact staggered him to shuffle backward, and something snapped when his back struck the edge of the console. All fight left him in a finger-snap as he screamed and fell to the floor.
A gunshot to her left drew Hauser’s attention, and she turned just in time to see the guy’s fellow staffer—the woman—roll off of Burke. She held a semi-automatic pistol in her left hand that ended up pointed toward the far wall as she settled on her back. Hauser had no desire to let the woman get her feet under her again, and she charged across the space stomped on the woman’s left wrist with her heel. The woman screamed as something snapped, and her grip on the pistol slackened. Hauser kicked the pistol away and turned to Burke. Then froze.
A slowly expanding imperfect circle of red dominated the center of Burke’s torso.
Hauser kicked the woman in her left temple, not caring if she died or just fell unconscious, then rushed to Burke’s side. Burke’s eyes fluttered open as Hauser lifted her hand.
“It’s bad, Winnie,” Burke gasped, her speech flecking her lips with blood. “I can’t feel my legs… and it hurts to breathe. I don’t think… I don’t think I’m going home… this time.”
Hauser felt tears welling in her eyes. “Stay with me, Eddie. Don’t give up yet.”
“I’m not… not sure I have a… a choice.”
Hauser searched the room with her eyes as she held Burke’s hand. Looking for something—anything—she might use to move Burke safely and seek help. As much as she wanted to believe there was still time, the icy claws of dread digging into her heart told her the truth. But either way, she was not leaving her friend and fellow agent behind.
“Come on. This might hurt, but I’m not leaving you.”
Burke made a gagging, wet cough that only served to coat her lips with blood even more. “You can’t… carry me and… escape, Winnie. Leave me. I know… I’m dying.”
“You stop that crazy talk right now, Agent. We’re getting out of here… both of us.” Hauser hauled Burke up and threw the woman’s left arm around her shoulders while she wrapped her right arm around her waist, pulling Burke tight against her. “I’m not leaving you.”
Hauser could tell Burke tried to take as much of her own weight as she could, but Hauser knew it wouldn’t last. She just wasn’t ready to admit it. As she moved them both toward the door, Hauser’s eyes landed on a button labeled, ‘Master Alarm Shutoff,’ and she released Burke’s hand at her shoulder long enough to slap it. The alarm outside the room cut off, and Hauser couldn’t believe the relief she felt at that.
Now, to get out of this place…
* * *
A second swipe of the keycard released the mag-lock holding the door to the security room, and Hauser cleared the hallway as best she could while holding Burke. She wasn’t more than ten feet into the hallway when a massive, deep-throated roar echoed down the hallway. Holy crap… she knew that roar.
She eased Burke to the floor and met her friend’s eyes. Saw the life slowly fading, but still present.
“Stay with me, Eddie. Please, stay with me. Looks like you get your wish after all.” Then, she stood, took a deep breath, and shrieked at the top of her lungs. “Wyatt!”
31
I had to admit that the lady following behind me looked a little… odd… as she walked with the pillow from her cell wrapped around her head. I didn’t look too snappy, either, but I hoped any roguish good looks I may have possessed as a shirtless guy with eight- or maybe even twelve-pack abs offset that a bit. Likewise, she might have been pretty enough that I would’ve paid no attention at all to the pillow, but the orange scrubs performed an excellent job of masking whatever curves she possessed.
* * *
Hey… don’t knock it. I am a guy, after all, and I appreciate women.
* * *
With those thoughts leading the way, I approached the intersection with extreme caution. No sign of anyone. And no signs, either. Did these people capture others with such regularity that they planned for escapes? Would it have really hurt them to throw up a road-sign-like placard every once and a while?
I still didn’t relish the idea of following after all those armed people I saw jog by the intersection, so I led my fellow escapee to the left. This section of the hallway only had a couple doorways branching off from it for quite some distance, and as we reached the first, we found it wasn’t a doorway but another intersection.
I pointed to the next potential doorway down our original hallway and then gestured at my eyes before pointing at the potential doorway again. When my companion didn’t walk past me, I turned to find her looking at me like I was an idiot. I rolled my eyes and leaned close enough for her to reveal one ear long enough for me to say, “Go check that other possible doorway, please, and nod if it’s a door.”
The woman nodded as understanding dawned, and she hissed back, “You need to work on your hand signals. I thought you wanted to chop something and get poked in your eyes.”
I frowned at her back as she fast-walked to the next alcove but schooled my expression before she turned. She nodded in a very obvious way, and I jogged to catch up to her. This door held the first ‘normal’ latch I’d seen so far. A rectangular grip under a thumb lever. A keycard reader hung on the alcove wall next to the door, and I figured the door itself was locked. But I tried it anyway. It wasn’t.
Edging the door open, I peeked and saw barracks-style beds. Bunk beds—one on top of another—lined one wall. Lockers lined the other. It did not appear to be occupied, but there was another door at the far side of the room. I entered, waving my hand for my companion to follow, and the alarm faded to a tolerable cacophony as soon as the door latched. I removed my shirt from my head, and I figured the faint rustle I heard came from lowering the pillow.
“Okay. Let’s search these lockers. With that alarm, I doubt we’ll find anything immediately useful, and if we are where I think we are, I have people right outside the bunker, so we don’t need money.”
I heard a delicate snort behind me. “Speak for yourself. These creeps pulled me off a crowded street in broad daylight. I have no idea how long they’ve held me here, but it feels like it’s been a long damn time.”
Even her voice sounded beautiful.
I wanted to argue with her. But at the same time, she
wasn’t one of mine. As much as I might prefer otherwise, I had no right to dictate to her.
“Okay. You do you, but if you weigh yourself down to the point you can’t run, I’ll leave you here,” I said, turning to face her. And oh, damn. Wavy, flaming red hair. Emerald green eyes that shone with a vibrant zest for life. Yeah… she was so gorgeous I missed my ladies.
She looked up at me, holding her silence for several seconds before she snorted and shook her head. “No, you won’t. You’re one of those boy scouts who never leaves a damsel in distress. Otherwise, why free me? It’s not like we have time for a roll in the hay, nor have you tried. I’ll admit… that’s kinda nice. But all of that shows you’re a decent guy. You won’t leave me here to face whatever fate holds for me, and you know it.”
Dammit… she was right. The only way I’d leave her to her fate was if she attacked me.
“Fine,” I almost growled. “But you’re responsible for your pilferage. I’m no sherpa. You won’t be loading me down with a bunch of stuff of no immediate use that we could replace later.”
“Now, that I believe.”
I shook my head as I turned and started my search.
* * *
By the time I worked my way to the far side of the room, I considered that the time had been wasted. No weapons. No cell phones or anything like that. Nothing that could help me get word to anyone that I was alive and in need of help.
I turned to my partner in pilfering and quirked an eyebrow. “Well? Find anything you want?”
She scrunched up her face in a classic moue of distaste. “No. I have no interest or need for smelly jock straps and even smellier boxers and briefs. This room holds nothing of value for me.”
“Well, grab your pillow. Back out we go.”
I re-wrapped my shirt and checked that she had retrieved her pillow before I pushed open the door… and stepped into another hallway. No one in sight, but there was another alcove about sixty feet to my right that was either an intersection or a door.
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