Margi inhaled and exhaled slowly to control her nerves, then threw open the door, aimed at the guard, and shot. He stood and drew his gun at the moment he was struck. His gun flung away as he stumbled back into his chair and fell lifeless on the floor. Observing the surprise in his eyes at seeing her made her feel remorseful for a moment as if she was the one that was unfair in it all. She shook it off and approached him to ensure that he would not do the same to her.
The captives rushed to the barrier, eager for their freedom. Some clawed at the shield, creating streaks of colors that radiated across the surface.
“There,” one pointed to a console.
Margi darted for the console and laid her finger on the graphic. The shield remained. She scanned her eye for authorization to no avail. She had been blocked. She hoped that Stavon himself wasn’t alerted to her whereabouts now that she could undoubtedly be traced. She ran over to the guard and dragged him by the arm. Smears of blood marked his trail. She leaned the man against the wall and lifted his hand to the console. It worked. The shield dissolved.
The prisoners rushed forth.
“That way,” one said and all ten of them ran off. Margi followed, guarding them from behind. She did not know where or why they ran. But it was somewhere they needed to be. They knew, and that was all she needed to aid in their pursuit.
* * *
Zarnel led her group down the hall, vetting each room as they went. As she closed one door, she heard a shot up ahead. She signaled the group to quiet. All was silent. No one ran down the hall, who would surprise themselves with her army, though it would be their last.
With her all-clear, she led them down the hall at a quick pace, maintaining single file behind her. She came upon a door and listened up close. Once satisfied that no one was there, she thrust it open, ready to aim her pistol at anyone she would see. Instead, she almost fell backward at the sight of bodies bobbing in vats of solution. They were stacked atop one another to the ceiling.
She ventured inside, ready for anyone who may on duty there protecting the clones. The others filed in behind her and simply stared at the sight.
“What is that?” one asked.
“Someone’s mistake,” she said. “Let’s go.” She led them past the tanks as they craned their necks to gawk. They reached another door at the far end.
She entered to find a guard, shot dead, leaning against the wall. She aimed her pistol toward every alcove in the room. It was empty.
A hail of gunfire echoed. Then voices yelled at one another.
Zarnel charged in the direction of the noise. She burst into a room and stood stock-still.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Zarnel?” Margi craned her head back to get a good look. For the first time in a while she felt they just might make it out alive.
Zarnel motioned for her group to follow. “Where’s Tolman?” she said, walking briskly to Margi.
Margi felt herself slump. “I don’t know. They moved him. I don’t know where to.”
Zarnel peered at Loz’s lifeless body on the floor, blood seeping from his head. Her army stared at it warily from a distance.
The woman on the slab collapsed in another man’s arms upon being removed. The other captives gathered around to comfort her.
A member of The Ward stepped forward from the group. “Rolo is heading in from the roof. We need to clear out anyone who is left.”
Rolo was keeping his end of the bargain to return her to Earth. It would be the only reason why Byn would risk him entering DanuVitro. “There’s a lot of firepower out there,” Margi said.
Zarnel approached the man. “You take my group. They are armed and trained.” She looked to the group.
“We want to help,” one said.
“Agreed,” he said.
Margi gave an extra pistol to the man.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To find Tolman.”
“Thank you,” the man said with deep gratitude exuding from him and in a time like this. No haste. This group had each other’s backs. She had saved him and his peers from an imminent hell they had sought so long to defeat. She was now one of them.
He and The Ward rushed from the room with Zarnel’s army.
“Stavon was here. He ran out as we came in,” Margi said. “He locked the door.”
“We’ve got to find Tolman before Stavon gets to him,” Zarnel replied.
A sense of satisfaction gripped Margi as energy surged within her for the fight. Stavon simply couldn’t win the day, but she didn’t know their next course of action. She feared that if Tolman wasn’t in the cell area, he would be in a laboratory. “The cells are down the hall, but the laboratories are in this area.”
“Come,” Zarnel said.
She followed Zarnel as they retraced their steps through the warehouse. The place had cleared either by mandate or by gunfire. She didn’t know by which, but it mattered. It mattered who had courage among those who remained.
Perhaps all of them had fled as hover cars still whirred. The numbers of engines outside may possibly indicate that the war had ramped up. If Stavon and his men fled to the ground floor, they would be met by the mob. If they went to the roof, The Ward and Rolo’s team would grant them their end. They would most likely be on the few floors that were trapped in the middle. And there would also be Tolman, hopefully safe and sound for now.
They walked past the vats of bodies. Those of the clients who funded DanuVitro.
Margi gripped Zarnel’s arm and stopped. She motioned to the bodies that lay bobbling around in their states of maturation without a soul to inhabit them, the soul that had stolen another for a time, to return younger to these constructs of someone’s idea of betterment. She aimed her laser pistol at the highest one and fired. She continued to fire as Zarnel joined in.
The vats burst, releasing their cloudy fluid to wash over the lower vats. Bodies tumbled over each other to the floor. Insentient bodies, yet Margi and Zarnel aimed at each of them to ensure their point. No more.
The floor flooded with liquid and blood. Sparks flew from the base of one slab along a wall, and then a shard of light flashed. Then, an explosion of sparks and a burst of flame shot out.
Lights overhead fluttered and dimmed as a chemical was released into the air. A generator’s blue glow illuminated the room and pulsed as it strained to provide enough power.
They covered their faces to filter their breathing and ran into the back hallway.
A worker was running toward them and skidded to a stop as he caught sight of them. He doubled back as the women raced toward him.
He opened the door and slammed it against Margi, knocking her into Zarnel.
Zarnel angled through the doorway and caught hold of the man’s lab coat and yanked him to the stone flooring. He grunted through his panting.
She held a gun to his head. Margi grabbed his collar. “Where is the man who was in that cell?” She pointed down the hall.
“I don’t know,” he pleaded, his face grim from the blue cast of light. A yellow safety sconce rotated its light, making it hard for Margi to read the expression on his face.
“Tolman,” she demanded. “Where did they take him? You know.””
“I don’t.”
“Where is Stavon?” Zarnel asked.
“I don’t know,” he whimpered.
Margi put him in a seated position. “What do you do here?”
He shrank back and looked away.
Zarnel pinched her fingers around his jawline. “I suggest you answer her.”
“I take care of the participants.”
Margi resisted the urge to shoot him. “Show me where you take them.”
They helped him stand.
“I take them here.” He pointed farther down the hall.
Margi followed him to an open area. Faint arrow holograms indicated which direction the participants were to go.
Zarnel trailed behind, covering the ground they had traveled, lest someone
had tracked them.
“The shuttles are here,” he said.
Margi took the lead down toward the concourse that branched out to the shuttles that sat six at a time.
“Each terminal has its shuttle,” she said. “At least he’s still here.”
“Where do they prep the participants?” Zarnel insisted.
“I’ll show you,” he said and led them away.
They walked by stacks of neatly folded uniforms, some the size of children. Margi tuned out her thoughts of the girl standing in the participant line.
“Here,” he said and faced her.
She heard a shot coming from behind the shelving and turned to fire. Zarnel had already locked on her target. A man fell to the floor, taking some uniforms with him.
Margi tightened her hold on the worker as he slipped from her hands. She turned to find him collapsing, blood leaking from his mouth. She let him fall to the ground.
The two women canvassed the room for anyone remaining hidden from fear or malice. The rotating safety lights highlighted shadows causing ghostly images to come and go with each round, but they saw no one.
Margi approached the gunman and retrieved his pistol. Once she and Zarnel were satisfied for the moment, they returned to the worker and stood over him.
“Any ideas?” she asked.
“I don’t think Tolman is here,” Zarnel said, looking around the space.
“Where would he be?”
“Let’s ask Stavon.” He won’t be in the participants’ area.”
Margi had no other choice but to head toward the executive level. She had hoped that wouldn’t be required of her, an eye-to-eye meeting with the mastermind of this world. She was always one pace behind him in all things. If she was to be Stavon’s weakness, and his demise was imminent, must she confront him directly? She brushed off the thought. Tolman was still missing and worse of all, might be with Stavon. She couldn’t afford any other thought.
They headed toward the main halls. The only sounds she heard was an occasional hover car beyond the window walls. Cars were traveling in disarray as if the rule of the airways had permanently given way to anarchy, and the streets far below them had disintegrated into mayhem. What she and the others were about to achieve would change the course of Danu forever.
Zarnel led her to the blue-illuminated stairwell, and they climbed the steps in utter silence.
Margi peered through the gap in the railing to look down several flights. The view was blocked just beyond. No one peered back. It was as if the whole world was fighting beyond the walls of DanuVitro, with no one left inside except those who caused it. She continued to follow Zarnel.
They reached the top floor. Zarnel opened the door and signaled for her to proceed. The light of day was now fading, casting shadows from the window walls and mixing with the safety lights.
“That way,” she told Zarnel. She led the way up the broad corridor. The grandeur of the artwork hanging on the walls contrasted with the feeling of impending doom that had taken over the ambiance of the structure. An occasional crash upon the roof above them shook the art pieces hanging on the walls, causing some to shift and hang askew.
Where once were bustling scientists in lab coats and office workers, now were empty spaces, or so she hoped. They passed by the windowed room to one lab. Though vacant, someone’s logs still displayed.
The light became clearer and brighter as they neared the end and away from the blue light. A stiff breeze coursed its way down the hall. They headed toward Stavon’s reception.
For a heavy moment, Margi stood on the threshold of his office. The far wall was sheared off, and the glass floor to the right was gone, bringing the vastness of sky into the room. What was left reminded her of the landing pad that had dangled against the side of the penthouse. She saw his desk ahead of her and made her way to it, ready to fire at what might be hidden behind. A hover car whizzed by, startling her. She regained her composure.
She heard a hit before she felt it as Zarnel hurled atop her, causing her to fall face-first onto the hard stone. Her gun was flung across the floor. She turned back to see Zarnel aiming her pistol upward, only to see it kicked from her hand and slide off the floor and into oblivion. Zarnel tried to stand and was met with another kick, sending her flailing backward. Margi laid eyes on their attacker.
Ferli.
“You give me the honor,” Ferli said, aiming the gun at Margi. “Do I even need this?” She gripped the pistol in her hand while looking directly at her. “I told him you wouldn’t see your way through this.” She stepped to the side, her eyes gleaming in triumph. “I can’t wait to write this up.” “What would the story say, Margi?”
Margi looked around her for her gun, anything that could help. She couldn’t reach for the weapon she had hidden. Zarnel lay unconscious by her side. She let her head fall to the floor in defeat.
Ferli circled them. “Hmm? What is the story, Margi? How you took the failed Ward and fed notions to those who could not make it in this world?” She stood tall. “You sacrificed our citizens to an idea you never gave to them. You’re worse than Stavon.”
She realized the truth of Ferli’s accusation. She had given them a message based upon the weakness of another and without a way to see them through to a better way. She had given them war.
“You’re right,” she said. Her hardest feat to overcome would be taming the mob on the streets and in the air. The ones who had been given desperation as their currency. She did that. No one else.
Ferli slowed her pace. “Save it. No one cares.” She stood behind Margi. “Get up.”
Margi rose. As she did, Zarnel reached for Ferli’s leg.
Margi took her opportunity and elbowed Ferli in the head.
Gunshots rang out as Ferli fell backward, losing her grip on the pistol. She kicked at Zarnel. Margi reached for the pistol hidden in her waistband. Ferli crawled behind the far end of the desk before Margi could get her shot.
She felt the sting on her forehead. She pressed her fingers to her skin and came away with blood. A scratch. A near miss.
Margi looked at Zarnel, who lay on the floor, pressing her hand to her side. They exchanged a look of knowing in what needed to happen. Margi wanted nothing more than to rush the mere steps to her aid. She couldn’t. Zarnel would expect her to do what was needed instead of tending to her, their task at hand being vastly more important.
Zarnel’s head wobbled and listed to one side as consciousness left her. She was gone. Margi felt like her mentor had left her before her teachings were complete. This great woman lay at her feet, and she could do nothing for her.
At that point, she saw two outcomes of having undertaken her fight without Zarnel: she would’ve been assassinated by Ferli or been escorted to Stavon by her. Either way, she would be dead. Margi owed this last chance of success to Zarnel.
She aimed her gun at the desk and fired across the face of it. Shards flew off as the lasers bit through. She waited for a sound, a moan, or a body falling on the floor. Nothing. She approached slowly to peer over the top.
Ferli threw an object against the wall. As Margi startled, Ferli darted the short distance to her, tackling her to the ground.
Margi angled her gun toward Ferli, who placed her knee on her arm and tried to wrangle it from her grip.
She head-butted Ferli and strained to gain the upper hand. Ferli head-butted her in return, causing her head to slam against the stone.
For a moment Margi felt as if she would black out, but her body kept to the task of the fight. She felt herself slide across the floor and felt the tremendous updraft of the gaping hole near them.
She reached her free hand to Ferli’s throat and squeezed. Ferli placed her hand on Margi’s neck and pressed. Margi turned her head and thrust away, coughing. She could see the clouds below them, the floor’s edge mere inches away.
Margi freed her hand again and struck Ferli flat-palmed across her face, then shielded her own cheek from the retaliatory strike th
at would follow.
As Ferli attempted to lash back, Margi grabbed her hand and used the momentum to throw Ferli off of her and thrust her boots into the woman’s rib cage, sending her over the gaping side.
Ferli held on to the reinforcement bars that dangled and leveraged her leg up over the side. As she placed her hands atop the stone floor, Margi greeted her by placing the pistol against her forehead.
For a moment Ferli stopped. Margi caught a glimpse of her taking one hand along the floor’s edge and thrusting it upward toward the gun.
She fired and Ferli lunged into space—all the while fixating her stare on Margi, even in death. She disappeared into the passing clouds.
Margi knelt, looking into the portal, then remembered Zarnel. She scrambled toward her and took hold of a hand that had already begun to cool.
A gust of wind blew in, lifting Zarnel’s wiry graying hair. If she could will Zarnel to rise with it, she would. There lay greatness.
Zarnel’s life ambition was to bring down DanuVitro—an ambition more important than her life. It was a sharp contrast to the clients’ clones they had left to die. Their owners had no ambition beyond the desire to be and yet became farther from their goals the more they sought it.
“Thank you” was all she could say. She laid Zarnel’s hand to her side and slowly walked out.
The building quaked as another vehicle crashed onto it. She heard faint congratulatory shouting from the rooftop.
She emerged from the office half dazed and half super aware, and stood in the hallway with the sounds of battle all around her. Death of friends and foe on every floor. Those happenings were not her purview. What was done was done, what was happening in the lives of others was the decision of their choosing whose merits she would no longer question. She could do nothing but do her part. With her eyes closed, she asked herself, If I were Stavon, where would I keep Tolman?
The Assumption Code Page 21
