Silver and Gold (Red and Black Book 3)

by Nancy O'Toole Meservier

  “She wasn’t shot in the back,” Alan said. “The wounds are clearly on her front side.”

  “Not to mention,” I added, “if that’s Project Regen, then why the hell would she be trying to get in there?”

  I nodded up at the large door, similar in size and shape to the one that had led us in here.

  “Maybe she’s crazy like us,” Connor replied with a crooked grin.

  “Or perhaps she was part of an escape party,” Alan said.

  “Right.” Connor clapped his hands. “Let’s assume that this woman had companions. They may have entered the garage through here.” He pointed toward the massive door behind the crates. “Or through here.” Turning to the left, he pointed to a nearby stairwell leading up to some sort of observation deck. “They’re met with men with guns and try to duck behind these sets of crates here. Unfortunately, this woman is shot, several times, before they can find cover. She dies here and the guards are taken out in the scuffle. Once their path is cleared, they continue forward, only one of their members is now injured.”

  As he spoke, he walked alongside the blood trail, stopping about halfway in between the car and the crates, where the trail ended in a smear. He frowned.

  “The blood trail fails to lead to an exit,” Alan remarked. “And it doesn’t appear that any of the vehicles are missing.”

  I blinked. “Dawn’s healing factor. She can heal pretty much any injury. That would explain the blood trail falling off.”

  “Or perhaps they stopped to bandage the wounded person.”

  “Only, what happened to them afterward? Dawn was found alone.” I shook my head. “We’re missing something.”

  “A whole lot of somethings. Which is usually a sign that it’s time to depend on Lilah.” Connor reached for his phone in his pocket. After taking several pictures, he typed in a message.

  A minute later, he placed his phone back in his pocket.

  “Something wrong?” I asked.

  “Not yet,” he said. “Now that we’re deeper underground, it took a little longer for that photo to send. If we keep on going, we may lose connection to Lilah.”

  “That’s rather inconvenient,” Alan remarked with a frown.

  “Noooo shit,” Connor replied. “Anyway, we should probably go forward.”

  I watched as he glanced toward the massive door in front of us. A potential entry point to Project Regen.

  As Alan approached the keypad, I remained on guard, trying to prepare myself for whatever secrets we might find inside.

  “We have a problem,” Alan said.

  I sighed. “Dammit, Dana. So much for his all access code.”

  “The problem isn’t the code itself. The door appears to be nonfunctioning.”

  “It’s fried?” Connor asked, stepping forward.

  “Quite.”

  “Huh.” The archer crossed the distance between himself and the door. Approaching the panel, a spark formed in his right hand. Alan, raising an eyebrow, took a step back as Connor made a flicking motion with his hand. The spark hit the panel with a crackle.

  And nothing happened.

  “Yep,” Connor said. “Fried.”

  “Shit,” I replied. “Should we try Dana again?”

  “I don’t see what a hacker would be able to do given the lack of power,” Alan said.

  “Great.”

  In my frustration, I kicked one of the smaller boxes at my feet. It slid across the floor and landed at the base of the metal staircase that led up to the control room.

  “Well, then,” I said. “Time to try exit number two.”

  Not only was the control room accessible, but it didn’t even require an electronic lock. I guess if you were a high enough clearance to make it into the garage, you could probably handle the little room that overlooked it. Ironically, there was still a man standing guard. Or at least there would have been, if somebody had thought to prop up his rotting corpse.

  “You know,” I said, “I didn’t expect to find quite this many bodies today.”

  “At least most of them are the guards, not inmates.” Alan pushed by me.

  Once again, he crouched down, using the nightstick to turn the body on its side. And I couldn’t help but linger over how unnatural it was. Alan was acting like a seasoned officer on one of those police shows. Only he wasn’t a police officer or morgue tech. And bodies in real life were more disturbing. The smell alone…

  “Yuck,” Connor said, walking inside. He raised a hand to cover his nose. “I think this one’s the worst.”

  “Not gonna disagree with you there,” I replied.

  “The enclosed space likely helped to keep the smell inside,” Alan remarked.

  “Again, yuck.” Connor shook his head. “I mean, it’s not like Lilah and I have never encountered corpses, but nine over the course of what, an hour? That’s above average.” He paused. “Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for Dawn to relive all this.”

  “I agree,” I said, jaw stiff. “But she felt like she needed to. That she’ll end up helping people. And maybe she will, even if it requires witnessing a fair amount of death to do so.”

  “That’s…not quite what I meant,” Connor said under his breath.

  I blinked. “Then what did you mean?”

  “It’s nothing, man. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Nothing—what are you trying to imply here?”

  “Forget I said anything—”

  “Because it sounds a lot like you’re trying to imply that Dawn made these bodies.”

  Connor was silent for a moment, before letting out a long sigh. “Maybe.”

  “That’s bull.” Sparks flew up all over my vision. “Dawn would never kill anyone.”

  “Hey man.” Connor raised his hands in a soothing motion. “Let’s not get too worked up.”

  “Then maybe you should think first before talking shit. You weren’t here.”

  “And you don’t know what happened over those several weeks she was here.” His voice was irritatingly calm. “Trust me when I say that the last thing I want to do is upset you, but…spending all that time in a place like this? That’s enough to make someone desperate. And desperate people sometimes go to the dark side.”

  I shook my head. This wasn’t about right or wrong. I wouldn’t judge someone in this situation for crossing a line. But for Dawn? That was still way out of character.

  “Think about the evidence, Alex. Seven men killed in bloodless ways. We’re not medical examiners here, but I’m pretty sure someone with her strength could do that easily, especially if she managed to get the jump on them. And that blood trail, even you admitted that it could have been cut off by someone who had healing powers.”

  “So, what? You gonna twist my words now?”

  “My sister didn’t kill these men.” Alan’s voice cut through our argument.

  We both turned to see him raise an inhaler over his shoulder.

  “This was clutched in the hand of the security guard,” Alan said. “The presence of which typically indicates difficulty breathing.”

  “And?” Connor asked.

  “You’ve spoken about the possibility that other empowered people emerged from Project Regen. Perhaps one of those people had the ability to disengage someone’s lungs, or something similar. And asphyxiation is a real possibility for all these bloodless deaths. Unlike your ridiculous theory that my sister killed them.”

  “Listen,” Connor began again. “I know—”

  “Very little, obviously.” Alan’s voice was downright frosty.

  Then the lights in the room dimmed and brightened again. All three of us looked to the ceiling in response.

  “That can’t be good,” Connor said.

  “This place has been shut down for close to a year,” Alan replied, his voice back to neutral. “And I doubt that SynergyCorp has been returning to do regular maintenance on their systems.”

  “Just the thing I want to hear in a building that uses electronic locks,” I said
, voice still bitter.

  “Then we gotta move.” Connor turned to the desk drawers. “Don’t want to overstay our welcome, after all. Let’s go through this room quickly.”

  His words were light, but there was a tension that hadn’t been there before. I had a feeling he appreciated Alan talking down to him about as much as I had.

  But Alan, to his credit, followed orders, finding a set of keys at the guard’s waist. What they were for, I wasn’t sure. This place didn’t have too many regular locks. I peered underneath a green jacket, thrown over the desk, and found a more powerful flashlight than the cheap one I carried in my gym bag. That would help if the power went out. At least until we hit a door we couldn’t open.

  Connor, on the other hand…

  “Snickers!” he cried out as he opened a desk drawer.

  “Holy shit,” I said, “here must be dozens of them.”

  “And full-size bars no less! Hey, Alex, let me put these in your gym bag.”

  “What?”

  “By now they might be stale,” Alan remarked from across the room where he was going through a handful of files.

  “And they’re from an evil corporation that does illegal experiments on people!”

  “That’s not the candy’s fault,” Connor replied, picking them up by the armful. When I didn’t respond, he pushed further. “Come on, man, you can’t make me just carry these around like this—that’s tactically unsound.”

  “Fine,” I said, unzipping my gym bag and holding it out.

  Seconds later, I found myself in possession of thirty Snickers bars, a candy I didn’t even like that much.

  Connor appeared to be over the moon about it.

  “Come on, guys, let’s keep going,” he said, taking a small staircase up to the next door. He typed in the passcode and a series of beeps announced that it had unlocked. He walked through. Alan stepped up beside me, a skeptical expression on his face.

  “I’m beginning to doubt that he is deserving of his notoriety,” he said.

  “Lilah did say it was an awfully small pool.”

  “And I guess that explains why the city I live in is protected by a woman under the delusion that she is a fairy and a man living out his Bruce Lee fantasy.”

  “Hey!” Connor called from the top of the stairs. “I like Pixie Dust and Weapons Master! Are you two coming, or what?”

  “Coming,” I replied, throwing my bag over my shoulder.

  Alan jogged up the stairs first, and I followed. I blinked as I stepped through the doorway.

  “This looks like the hospital where my mother once worked,” Alan remarked.

  Or the one mine had died in.

  We stood at the mouth of a long hallway with polished white floors. Several doors could be found on either side.

  “We should check them all,” Connor said, standing at the first entrance. “Just in case.”

  “Makes sense,” I replied, nodding at the door. Next to the keypad was a small plaque labeled “Lab C.”

  Connor leaned forward, typing in Dana’s access code. The door let out a series of high-pitched beeps, followed by a click, indicating that it had been unlocked. Connor pushed it open with one hand.

  The three of us stepped into a wide room, the perimeter covered in some sort of medical equipment. Hell if I knew what it was. Stuff that would probably beep constantly, read vital signs, that sort of thing.

  What was in the middle of the room was easier to understand.

  I stepped inside, finding myself standing next to the second of three identical metal tables. On each side were bulky mechanical restraints, clearly made for holding down arms and legs. A fifth set of restraints sat at the top of the table to hold back a head.

  And there was something caught in it.

  I reached for it and pulled out several strands of black hair. The exact same color and texture as Dawn’s.

  And once again, I felt rage rumble inside of me, quick and all-encompassing, blinding me with its sudden light. I reached down to the metal table, leaning on it for support. It immediately began to shake beneath my hand.

  Pausing, I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. And dammit, it wasn’t easy. There was no room for release in here. No property to destroy. No people to punch. Just one creepy underground bunker filled with horrors. Horrors that were somehow connected to Dawn. I took in a deep breath and felt the anger fade. The lights in my vision dimmed, and the pain in my head subsided. The table stopped shaking.

  When I opened my eyes, Alan was standing on the other side of it, giving me a curious look. In response, I raised the strands of hair. He looked down at it, then up at me. His gaze intensified.

  “Hey,” Connor called from across the room. “Did Dana happen to mention if that code worked on computers?”

  “He didn’t,” I replied. “Why would it?”

  “I dunno. I just thought it would be awfully convenient right now.”

  I looked up and around the medical equipment to see Connor sitting at a pretty standard-looking workstation, housing what looked like a shiny, new computer.

  He pointed at the top of the screen. “See? There’s a camera attached. Do you think they recorded anything?”

  13

  Dawn

  Karen stood in the entryway to Pod Four until Lights Out, eschewing her precious shower time to stare at the glass doors, waiting for Diego to return. Gerry and I stayed with her for much of it. He spent his time paging through that ragged notebook of his, and I mainly shifted awkwardly from one foot to the next, which I’m sure was super helpful.

  “Lose another one, Karen?” A voice came from our left.

  We all turned to see a damp Bixby walking back from the showers with Justin, Khuong, and the starry-eyed girl from this morning. Her name was apparently Chloe.

  “Hello, Bixby,” Karen remarked dryly.

  “You know,” Bixby said. “You might want to actually fill your people in on what’s going on here before someone else does something stupid. Of course, letting your own people die is what you’ve always been good at.”

  Karen jerked toward her as if ready to take a swing, only to have Gerry leap in to hold her back, dropping his notebook in the process.

  “Hey, hey,” he said, his voice calm. “It’s not worth it.”

  “Yeah, but she’s not entirely wrong,” Karen muttered, watching her retreating back.

  I reached down and picked up the small notebook.

  “Here’s your…you know.” I handed it back to Gerry.

  “Thank you,” he replied politely.

  “What’s in there anyway?” I asked, and then immediately regretted asking such a personal question.

  But Gerry didn’t even look annoyed. Instead, he smiled sadly. “My memories.”

  And with that, the main lights snapped off, leaving us with nothing but the amber glow of the safety lights. The remaining people around the tables stood up and stumbled back to their rooms.

  “Lights Out,” Karen said, her voice dry. “Looks like we’re out of time.”

  “He could be fine, Karen,” Gerry replied. “Mark stayed overnight.”

  “He could be. Or he could be dead.” She paused, turning back to me. “Anyway, I promised you answers. Thanks for being so patient about it.”

  “Um…from the way you spoke, it didn’t seem like getting an earlier explanation was really an option,” I said as we entered Pod Four. Karen turned into the guys’ room, slapping the top of the doorframe as she did.

  “Too many ears during the daytime,” she said.

  “Some of us are trying to sleep.” Mark’s voice emerged from his place in the bottom of the bunk bed across the room.

  “Too bad—mandatory pod meeting. If you don’t have any questions, you can just keep your mouth shut.”

  “Who made you leader?”

  “Well, that’s…part of the problem, I guess.”

  It was too dark to make out the expression on Karen’s face, but there
was a sadness in her voice that I wasn’t used to hearing.

  “How about you take a seat, Dawn,” Gerry said, moving to his own bed. I nodded and sat across from him. The second bunk hung low enough to force me to crouch, making me feel boxed in. I swallowed, wrapping my hands around my knees.

  Karen remained standing, the amber safety lights reducing her to a shadow.

  “Let’s start by figuring out what you know already,” she said.

  I blinked, not expecting to do much of the talking tonight.

  “Um…it’s basically Weapon X, right?” I asked. “A shifty organization that experiments on people and gives them powers?”

  “Wow, congratulations, Dawn!” Mark commented from his bed. “You’ve finally achieved your dreams and have been transported into a comic book movie. Unfortunately, it’s the shitty Wolverine one with amnesia bullets.”

  “You’re not being helpful.” Karen’s voice was firm.

  “It’s not a bad comparison,” Gerry said. “Especially when you consider the organization behind it. Are you familiar with SynergyCorp?”

  “Uh…yes?” I replied.

  “They try and keep things under wraps, but every now and then a Black Hat lets something slip,” Karen said. “If they’re not the ones directly responsible, then they’re part of it somehow.”

  “That’s terrifying! I mean…I know people that work for them.”

  Gerry cleared his throat before speaking. “I take it that means you’re local, then?”

  “He likes to collect statistics,” Karen explained.

  “So not everyone here is, um… local?”

  “There’s a high concentration of people from the Northeast, but truthfully, we’re from all over America,” Gerry replied. “And when I say America, I mean North America. Occasionally we’ll see people coming in from Canada, like Karen here.”