Serenity Avenged

by Craig A. Hart

  Jimmy turned when he came even with the restroom door and pushed his way inside. The guard followed close behind. Jimmy clutched at his stomach and made a gagging sound. He rushed toward one of the stalls and threw open the door, making sure it closed behind him.

  “Leave it open!” the guard said. “You might fool Darkmore, but I’m onto you, asshole. You’re not sick; you’re looking for a way outta here.”

  Jimmy dropped to his knees and folded himself over the toilet bowl. Shielded from the guard’s view, he jammed a finger down his throat. When he felt the vomit rising, he turned suddenly and puked all over the guard’s shoes.

  “Shit!” The guard danced backward, stomping his feet to shake off the splotches of vomit. “You stupid—”

  Jimmy moved fast, moving low, and used his head to bulldoze the guard backward against the sink. He grabbed for the gun, stopping it as it began turning toward his chest. The guard’s grip tightened—the gun went off in a flash of fire and sound.

  They were up and running in an instant. Shelby heard and saw nothing to suggest they’d been spotted, but imagined every surveillance camera on the property turning in their direction, accompanied by flashing lights and loud warning tones, alerting every guard to their movements. They reached the nearest door and Shelby tried the handle.

  Locked.

  Shelby heard a voice say, “What the hell?”

  He looked up and saw the guard had reappeared from his walk around the back of the house.

  “Get your hands up! Now!” the guard demanded. He released his grip on the dog’s leash and the animal, already snarling and frothing, surged forward. Its teeth flashed in the sun.

  They fired at once. Shelby dropped the guard with his pistol and the dog went down from a shotgun blast.

  Mack pumped another shell into the shotgun’s chamber. “Does it make me a bad person that I feel worse about the dog than the guard?”

  “Not if you can find that guard’s access card before we get shot to hell. We’re sitting ducks out here.”

  “Conditional morality! I love it!” Mack went to the fallen guard and yanked a lanyard from around his neck. He held it up like a trophy as he jogged back. He waved it in front of the security panel. There was a beep and a flashing green light. He looked at Shelby. “You want to do the honors?”

  “You just want to make sure you’re not the one walking into a hail of bullets.”

  “What are friends for?”

  “I’ll let you know when I get one.” Shelby grabbed the door handle again and gave it a pull. The door swung open.

  The bang of the shot sent Jimmy’s ears into a state of ringing protest as the bullet ploughed harmlessly into one of the metal stalls. The guard brought his left fist around in a sweeping blow that caught Jimmy at the base of the rib cage. Sharp pain stabbed through his chest—a broken rib.

  The guard was bigger and stronger, but Jimmy had looked into the face of evil and had no intention of becoming its next victim. Adrenaline, desperation, and fear gave him strength he didn’t know he had. Even so, the gun was beginning its turn again, the black muzzle pivoting toward Jimmy’s chest. He kicked upward with his knee, catching the guard in the groin.

  The bigger man sucked in his breath and then let out a croaking, “Fuuuuck.”

  Jimmy tried to twist free, but despite the pain, the guard wasn’t done and continued moving the gun inexorably in Jimmy’s direction.

  This is it, Jimmy thought. I’m done. I failed.

  The bathroom door burst open. Another shot pulsed through the small, tiled room. Jimmy stumbled backward as the guard’s grip suddenly relaxed and the man slid to the floor, blood spreading across the white of his short front.

  Shelby stood in the doorway, his pistol pointed at the guard.

  Jimmy opened his mouth to say thank you, but Shelby cut him off.

  “Where are they?”

  “I’ll take you,” Jimmy said, gasping for breath. “We have to hurry. He’s going to kill them!”

  19

  Shelby knew time was running out. The shots would certainly bring every strong-armed goon in the place on the run. He wasted no time with questions, but instead stepped aside to let Jimmy through and then followed him down the hallway and around the corner at a dead run. Footsteps pounded somewhere in the house, doors slammed, the noises drawing ever nearer.

  “It’s not far,” Jimmy said. “Just around this—”

  A burst of automatic weapon fire brought all three to a halt. Shelby dropped, rolled, and came to his feet. He fired off one shot down the hallway but saw no one. Then a flicker of movement and a guard appeared around the corner, squeezing off a quick burst. Shelby returned fire, but the guard had already jerked back out of sight. Shelby motioned for Mack to lay down cover and the shotgun immediately opened up on the guard’s position. Shelby moved forward, keeping low to stay out of Mack’s line of fire. He reached the corner as the guard was making his move. The two men were face to face in an instant and Shelby felt the muzzle of the automatic rifle graze his ribcage. He grabbed the weapon and twisted, feeling some satisfaction when he heard his opponent’s wrist pop. The guard yelped and released the weapon. Shelby pulled it free and used the stock like a club, sending the guard to the floor with what would probably turn out to be a nasty concussion.

  That guard was the lucky one.

  As Shelby stood upright and was turning to go back to Mack and Jimmy, a set of double doors burst open a few yards down the hall and three more guards thundered into view. They halted when they saw Shelby and their guns came up. Shelby flipped the automatic rifle, caught it with his finger on the trigger, and filled the hallway with hot lead. The guards dropped, two dead, one still alive but out of action.

  “That was way too easy,” Shelby muttered. He looked at the weapon in his hands. “I ought to get one of these.”

  He returned to the others. Jimmy was already on the move.

  “It’s here,” Jimmy said.

  Shelby looked where Jimmy was pointing. It was a door, large and made of metal, more like a commercial freezer door or bank vault than something normally found in a house.

  Shelby tried the handle. Locked. “They’re in there? Leslie and Helen?”

  Jimmy nodded.

  Shelby motioned at Mack, who stepped forward with the guard’s access card and waved it in front of the security pad. There was a triple beep and the light blinked red. Mack tried it again. Again the beeps and the red light. Shelby grabbed it from his hands and tried it once, then twice, both times with the same result.

  “Shit!” Shelby tossed the card at Mack and ran back down the hall where he’d left the wounded guard.

  The man was moaning and holding his upper leg. Blood oozed between the man’s fingers.

  Shelby knelt by the guard. “Looks like you’re going to bleed to death, asshole.”

  “Go to hell,” the guard said between clenched teeth.

  “I probably will, but first I’m going to need you to give me a little information. And I’ll let you know upfront that I’m not in a patient mood, so don’t give me any shit.”

  The guard glared up at Shelby. “I said, go to hell.”

  Shelby brought his fist down hard and ground his knuckles into the man’s open wound. The guard screamed.

  “At the rate you’re losing blood, you’ll be dead in fifteen minutes. Tell me what I want to know and I’ll do my best to help you out. As an added bonus, I’ll stop doing this.” Shelby twisted his knuckles a little harder.

  The guard choked down another scream. “What do you—want to—know?”

  “The door, the big metal door. How can I open it?”

  The guard hesitated.

  “Listen, asshole, if you’re afraid of Darkmore, I have to tell you things aren’t looking great for him. Now’s the time to unhitch your wagon from that rolling dumpster fire.”

  Mack coughed. “I think you may be mixing your metaphors.”

  The guard moaned. “You people—crazy
as hell.”

  “Don’t make me show you how crazy,” Shelby said. “Tell me about the door. Is there a code? An access card?”

  “Darkmore has the only access card.”

  Shelby put even more pressure on the guard’s wound. “There has to be another way in.”

  “Only from—main control room.”

  “That sounds promising. And where might I find this control room?”

  The guard hesitated.

  Shelby pulled out his pistol and shoved it against the guard’s forehead. “I’m not even going to count to three.”

  “Okay! It’s on the second floor. Take the elevator up—turn to the right. First door.”

  “Now was that so hard?” Shelby spotted an access card hanging from the guard’s lapel. He pulled it free and held it up. “Will this get me in?”

  The guard nodded, his face white and slick with perspiration.

  Shelby stood. “Mack, you know first aid. Stop this bleeding, if you can.”

  “What about you? You might need backup.”

  “And I’d much rather have you along. The little shit doesn’t deserve the help, but I promised him, and we don’t have time to waste. Jimmy, you’re the only one of us who’s been in the house, so you take me to the elevator.” He reached down and grabbed the guard’s weapon, a 9mm pistol, and tossed it to Jimmy. “I might need some extra firepower.”

  20

  They reached the elevator without further incident and took it up to the second floor. Exiting required the use of the access card, which suggested to Shelby they had found the right place. Shelby and Jimmy took up positions on opposite sides of the elevator as the doors slid open, their weapons ready. But no one challenged them. Jimmy looked around.

  “Seems quiet.”

  Shelby grunted. “Too quiet.”

  They left the elevator and turned right, following the guard’s instructions. Shelby wondered if the wounded man would have had the presence of mind to send them into a trap. The first door they came to was marked “Control Room.”

  “Nice of them to label it for us,” Shelby said. He brandished the access card. “There’s a chance we’re being watched right now by whoever’s in there. And if so, they’re ready for us. Don’t take any chances.” He ran the card over the panel. It beeped, blinked green, and the door lock clicked.

  Shelby hit the door like a Pamplona bull, charging into the room and ducking behind the first reliable cover he saw—a metal desk supporting an array of electronic surveillance equipment. Gunfire erupted from all directions. He had no idea if Jimmy had followed him inside, and couldn’t take the time to look. He popped up behind the desk and squeezed off a rattling barrage from the automatic. No Fourth of July ever had as many fireworks. The cacophony of noise and muzzle flashes recalled every war movie Shelby had ever seen. He stuck the muzzle of the automatic over the top of the desk and squeezed the trigger until it ran out of ammunition. Then he tossed it aside and drew his pistol. He counted one…two…three, and then rose from behind the desk with a roar.

  A guard stood on the far side of the room, half hidden behind a filing cabinet. Shelby picked him off with a single shot. He was congratulating himself on his marksmanship, and wishing Mack had been there to see it, when something whined past his head and thudded into the wall behind him. Then a blur, a sudden movement, and someone was on top of him—a guard he hadn’t seen. The man was big, strong, heavy, and went for Shelby’s throat with both hands, bearing down hard. Shelby brought his forearms up and out, breaking the hold. The man lunged forward again and Shelby used the momentum to roll the bigger man away. He scooted away, got to his feet, and planted a nasty kick in the man’s midsection. There was a whoosh as the air was forced from the guard’s lungs. Shelby moved in and brought the point of his elbow down on the base of guard’s skull. It was a move that could kill a man, and it dropped the guard like a rock.

  The shooting stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Shelby looked over the desk. Three guards lay dead or severely wounded, including the one he’d shot from across the room. He saw Jimmy standing over a fourth guard, his pistol drawn and pointed at the man’s head.

  “Don’t shoot! We might need him!” Shelby crossed the room quickly and pushed the pistol barrel away. He looked down at the guard. Barely a man, scarcely shaving. But now wasn’t the time to care about picking on someone his own age. Shelby pushed his own pistol against the guard’s temple. “The room. How do we get into the room?”

  “What room?”

  Jimmy kicked him. “You know what room. The kill room.”

  “Why should I tell you? You’ll kill me anyway.” The guard was trying to maintain a brave face, but Shelby saw the fear in his eyes.

  Shelby relaxed the pressure of the gun barrel on the guard’s temple. “And if I promised to let you live?”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “I don’t think you’re in any position to be making deals. You need leverage for that. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m less than thirty seconds away from putting a bullet in your brain. And if you think I won’t, take a quick look around.”

  The guard winced and pointed slowly to a red button on the console, over which loomed a massive bank of surveillance screens. “The override button. Darkmore has the only keycard with direct access to the room. This is the only other way in.”

  Shelby surveyed the bank of screens. He wondered if there was one that showed the inside of the kill room but didn’t have time to investigate the possibility. He turned to Jimmy.

  “Monitor my progress as best as you can. As soon as you see me head for the kill room door, you hit that button as if lives depended on it—because they do.”

  Shelby took the elevator back to the first floor, every second feeling like an eternity. He had no way of knowing if he was too late. Unless that godless room was soundproof, Darkmore would have heard the shooting. Leslie and Helen might already be dead. He shook his head violently. He couldn’t allow himself to think that way. He had to proceed as if they were still alive. He hoped to God they were, and surprised himself by murmuring a prayer. He hadn’t prayed in years, but now it somehow felt appropriate. If there was ever a time—

  The elevator stopped, the door opened. Shelby backtracked through the maze of hallways. He passed the scene of the earlier gunfight. Mack was gone, but the guard with the wounded leg was still there. He was dead. Mack had obviously tried to staunch the bleeding, but it had been too late.

  Shelby kept moving.

  At last he rounded a corner and saw Mack ahead. His friend raised his shotgun, then stopped when he recognized Shelby.

  “Goddamn! You go on vacation or something?”

  “Or something. Come on, let’s get to that door.”

  “Got a little sticky up there?”

  “A little. I made a hell of a shot I wish you’d seen, though. You’d have been proud.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Better than any shot I’ve seen you make.”

  “Now I know you’re lying.”

  Shelby saw the door ahead and didn’t slow down.

  “Shel! You have a way in?”

  “As long as Jimmy keeps his end of it.” Shelby hit the handle with the palm of his hand and as he did, heard the whirring click of the security bolt opening. He burst inside, skidding to a halt on the smooth tile floor. Mack was right behind him; both had their weapons at the ready.

  Shelby stared, aghast at what he saw. Leslie and Helen lay on separate tables. The tables were stainless steel, like the ones he’d seen at the morgue on the few occasions he’d been unfortunate enough to visit. When he’d burst in, Darkmore had been standing over Helen with a scalpel poised above her throat. Shelby squeezed off a shot. Too quick, a miss. Darkmore ducked behind the table. Shelby tried to line up another shot, but stopped. Someone else was in the room, a big man…and he had a gun to Leslie’s head.

  21

  “Take the gun from her head.” Shelby felt the words leave his mouth, bu
t the voice sounded as if it belonged to someone else. “Take the gun from her head before I spread your brains all over the wall.”

  The big man smiled. “My finger’s pretty tight on this trigger. You shoot me and I’ll squeeze off a shot by reflex. And at this distance, it won’t be only my brains on the wall. I’d say you were the one who should put your weapon away.”

  Shelby stood, aiming his pistol, yearning to shoot but knowing the man spoke the truth.

  “You’d better listen to Malone,” Darkmore said. He’d risen from the floor and regained some dignity now that the odds had stabilized. “Put down your weapons. Both of you. Or the girl dies. And with her, the baby.”

  “You piece of shit.” Shelby ached to crush the man’s skull between his two hands—with this level of rage and adrenaline coursing through his veins, he might be able to do it.

  “You’re not the only one with cause for anger,” Darkmore said. “I don’t know the extent of what’s been going on out there, but the mere fact you’re here suggests you’ve managed to do some real damage to my defenses. It’s not something I take lightly.”

  “I don’t give a worm’s dick about your defenses. I’m here for my daughter. Oh, and you too, Helen.”

  “Thank you, Bear.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Quiet!” Darkmore stalked across the room to stand next to Malone. “I abhor witty banter. Now both of you drop those weapons before I instruct Malone to kill your daughter.”

  “You won’t kill her. Not first, anyway.”