The Way Out

by Armond Boudreaux

  Theresa leaned—no, fell—back and let the wall support her. Her mouth hung open, and her shoulders slumped as if something had sucked the strength and anger right out of her.

  I don’t understand any of you, said her voice. I can see inside people and I still don’t understand them.

  “Me, either,” said Bowen.

  At this, she seemed to recover whatever energy had been driving her, and she started down the stairs. Bowen might have simply stood and watched her go, but his legs moved involuntarily. He followed after her.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Theresa stopped and made Bowen put his hand on the scanner next to the door to sub-level four. The door swung open to reveal a hallway littered with bodies, and the other end, a woman lay on the floor, a rifle next to her. Gunfire erupted from an open doorway just a few yards from where she lay.

  47

  “Braden!” Val yelled, scrambling to her feet.

  She grabbed the rifle and ran toward the door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw people emerge from a stairwell door at far end of the hall, but she ignored them. Instead, she shouldered the butt of the gun and ran through the door into the room.

  As she raised the muzzle of the gun to shoot, what she saw made her stop in her tracks. With a sickening swell of relief in her gut, she saw Braden standing with his arms by his sides and his back to the door. Beyond him, a man stood frozen between two rows of countertops, his eyes wide and his gun half raised. His terrified eyes stared at Braden.

  Val stepped around her son and shot the man. As he toppled onto the floor, Val’s eyes fell onto another body. This one lay on his back with his gun on his chest. A little smoke still rose from the muzzle. Most of the top and back of the man’s head were gone. Only his face and forehead remained. Red and gray matter had splattered the floor all around his head like a gruesome halo.

  Val looked at her son and then back at the man’s body, and she understood.

  I didn’t want this for him, she thought. It was one thing for her to kill so that she could protect him and her husband. But she had done those things so that he wouldn’t have to.

  Braden stared at the body, his face blank. He hadn’t moved since Val entered the room.

  “It’s okay,” she said. She put her left arm around him and pulled him against her. “He would have killed you if you hadn’t done that.”

  As if a levee had broken, he started to shudder and sob. He pressed the side of his face against her arm.

  “Heroes...” he began, but he hitched to catch his breath and didn’t finish. Still, Val knew what he was trying to say.

  “Sometimes they do,” she whispered, a lump forming in her throat. “Sometimes they have to.”

  A hollow clattering sound came from behind them. Val let go of Braden and spun around, raising the gun. But instead of more agents, people began to emerge from cabinet doors. First came a woman in a nurse’s uniform, her face streaked with tears, snot, and sweat. Her eyes were swollen.

  “You saved us,” she said, looking past Val at Braden. “You saved me.”

  Behind her, a blonde woman struggled through a cabinet door and stood, and even though her long blonde hair blocked Val’s view of her face, she knew.

  “Jessica?” she said.

  The woman turned and revealed her face, and she gasped. Her hand rose halfway to her face before it stopped and hovered in mid-air.

  “Val?” said Jessica, her mouth hanging open.

  For a moment, the two sisters stared at each other, one still holding her gun at the ready, the other standing in a splatter of blood and brains. Val hadn’t seen Jessica since the week before basic training.

  Running footsteps behind them. Val turned.

  “It’s okay, mom,” said Braden. “It’s just Dad.”

  Kim appeared at the door, his face white. “Braden,” he said. He hurried to their son and dropped to one knee, wrapping the boy in his good arm.

  “I made a man kill himself,” choked Braden. He buried his face in Kim’s shoulder.

  “You did what you had to do,” said Kim. He put his hand on the back of Braden’s head, running his fingers into the boy’s hair.

  “He saved us,” said the woman in scrubs. She stepped over the body of the agent, holding onto a countertop to support herself. When she reached the end of the aisle, she dropped onto her knees and reached out to touch Braden.

  “No,” said Val, shaking her head. She didn’t raise her voice, but she spoke firmly. “Don’t touch him.” No one who worked for this place was going to touch him again.

  The woman looked at Val with her swollen eyes. She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. Understanding and sadness crossed her face. Her hand fell to her side, and she dropped her head to look down at the floor.

  Braden let go of Kim and turned toward the woman, who sat on her heels and wept. Glancing at Val with a disapproving look, he put his arms around her.

  “You’re welcome,” he said.

  Kim looked at Val, his eyes glistening with relieved tears, but his mouth tight with fear. They had just nearly lost everything.

  “We need to get moving,” he said. “Asa said the Dragonfly is still parked on a hill, right? I bet they’re sending...” But he trailed off, his eyes looking past Val. “Is that Jessica?”

  “Hi,” said Jessica. “I guess you’re the husband?”

  He nodded. “Kim.”

  Val turned to face her sister. Jessica stood with another woman now, their hands locked together. Probably a girlfriend. The woman had a stringy nest of brown hair and a pair of terrified brown eyes that reminded Val of the eyes that she had seen everywhere in Iran—hunted and afraid.

  “How did you get mixed up in this?” she said.

  “Long story,” said Jessica.

  They stared at each other. Between them lay a dead body and a long time. Val wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. There had never been a terrible fight, no words of betrayal, no goodbyes. Days and months and years with only a few perfunctory text messages separated them. There wasn’t even anything to forgive, exactly. Just time. But just now, time seemed like the worst enemy of all.

  Suddenly Celina’s voice spoke in Val’s head. Val had forgotten about her and Francis.

  Look, I hope that y’all are having fun down there. But can we get a move on? I’m not sure how much longer I can do this.

  48

  Theresa made him walk down the hall toward the elevator and the fourth-level control room. A crowd of DHS agents stood frozen at the other end of the hall, most of them aiming their rifles at the bodies of nurses and staff that lay on the floor all around them. Celina stood in the middle of the room, grimacing with the effort to hold them. Francis stood behind her, his face downcast.

  “I’ll be damned,” said Bowen.

  Yes, you will, said Theresa’s voice.

  Bowen’s legs started to move faster, picking up an awkward flat-footed running pace that sent shocks of pain through his knees. Theresa hurried beside him until they reached a lab where several people—Kimiya and Valerie Hara, Braden, Nurse Connie, and the reporter and her girlfriend—all stood around a dead agent. Theresa left Bowen there and continued down the hall to Celina.

  Hi, Doc, said Celina’s voice in his head. I’m a little occupied at the moment or I’d make you jack off right here in front of everybody. You know—just to punish you for all this damn trouble you’ve caused.

  When Theresa reached the end of the hall, she walked around the control room, looking right into the faces of the agents as if she were a commander inspecting her unit. Celina, who seemed barely able to move, eyed her impatiently as she circled the room. Finally, Theresa stopped beside Celina and Francis.

  Then each of the agents began to move, turning their guns on each other. Celina dropped to the floor, dragging Francis down with her, just before the gunfire started. With Theresa standing right in the middle of them, the agents shot each
other. The sound was unbelievable, but it was over almost as soon as it started. Every agent had fallen to the floor except one. For a second, he only stared stupidly at Theresa, and then he put the muzzle of his gun in his mouth and fired. The back of his head exploded, sending a spray of white and red into the ceiling. His body crumpled onto the floor like a doll.

  Your new girlfriend is really something, said Celina’s voice in his head.

  Theresa would come for him next. She’d made him watch while she destroyed everyone at the Institute, and the other Anomalies were free. There was nothing left now except for him.

  In his head he heard Jones-McMartin’s voice. You still have time.

  His hand went to his pocket for the bottles. He probably didn’t have enough time to swallow enough pills for an overdose, but they were fast-acting. He might be able to swallow enough to dull whatever pain she might put him through.

  But as he twisted the cap off of the first bottle, something moved beside him, and he turned just in time to see Valerie Hara coming toward him, a rifle in her hand. She twisted and brought the butt of the gun up and struck him in the face with it. The blow snapped his nose and sent him backwards into the wall. A second blow hit him in the solar plexus, making every organ in his torso feel like it might explode. He doubled over, covering his stomach with his arms, but then she hit him in the face again—he thought that this was a foot, but he wasn’t sure—and knocked his head back into the wall. Hot blood poured from his nostrils into his mouth. His eyes swam with tears, and his knees shook. Another blow and he might black out.

  “Stop it!” someone screamed. Bowen couldn’t tell who.

  “You son of a bitch,” Valerie whispered in his ear. “You think you can take my son?”

  Other voices were yelling, but Bowen couldn’t make sense of anything except for Valerie.

  “You are a piece of shit,” she said, still whispering. “And if my son wasn’t watching, I would...”

  But she didn’t finish.

  Bowen forced his eyes open. Through the tears he could only see the vague shape of Valerie moving away from him. Over the sound of ringing in his ears, he barely heard footsteps coming down the hall.

  The pills. He’d dropped them. He looked down, but his eyes were still too screwed up to see the little white capsules on the floor.

  Please, he thought, knowing that Theresa would hear him. Please just let me have a few—

  But now she was close, and he felt her inside him. She forced him to his knees. His leg and back muscles burned and screamed, but Bowen forced himself to relax and let her take control of him. He knew what was coming, and he knew how badly it would hurt. He could still see the agony in the senator’s face. But what did it matter if it hurt? It would be over quickly, and then he would embrace oblivion like a lover.

  49

  She watched her sister smash a doctor’s face with the stock of the gun and with her foot, and she thought of all the things that she had imagined Val becoming when she had first joined the military. This was it, she thought. A soldier. A fighter. A killer.

  The doctor staggered backwards into the wall, his face streaming blood. A blue bottle fell from his hand and scattered white pills all over the floor.

  Braden, Kim, and the woman in scrubs all knelt at the other end of the aisle, their heads turned to watch the doctor take his beating. None of them moved, but Merida took several steps toward the door.

  “Stop it!” she screamed.

  Val did stop, but she leaned toward the doctor to whisper something in his ear.

  Jessica stepped around the body toward Merida and grabbed her hand. Merida turned to look at her. Jessica shook her head.

  “What do you...”

  But Merida didn’t finish because now Val backed up slowly, stiffly. Unnaturally.

  A young woman wearing a blue jumpsuit came into view. As she did, the doctor dropped to his hands and knees, his movements also stiff like Val’s.

  “Don’t do it!” said Braden, pulling himself away from his father and stepping toward the door. Kim tried to grab the boy’s shoulder, but he dodged the hand and hurried out into the hallway. “Nobody deserves that!”

  “He’s going to get hurt,” said Jessica. She and Merida both started toward the door.

  “Don’t do this, Theresa,” said the woman in scrubs, who still knelt on the floor where she had hugged Braden. “Please don’t hurt anyone.”

  Theresa looked at Braden. She would probably be beautiful if not for the blend of rage and sadness that twisted her features into a grimace.

  Jessica went straight for the boy, ready to pull him back inside, but as she approached, something took hold of her. It felt like the tingling that came when feeling returned to limbs that had gone to sleep. She and Merida both slowed to a stop as they neared the door, their feet planted on the floor mid-stride.

  For a minute or more, everything was still. Theresa and Braden stared at one another. The doctor was still on his hands and knees, his face turned toward the floor. Val stood in the hall, unmoving, and Jessica watched, frozen in the middle of walking as if she were about to do lunges. She fought against whatever power had immobilized her, but she could only manage to barely lift her right arm a few inches. Was Theresa doing this?

  Another young woman, also wearing a blue jumpsuit, came into view. She stood just behind Theresa, not speaking. Suddenly Theresa shook her head and shut her eyes tightly so that the skin around them crinkled, squeezing out tears. Braden nodded. His hands went out and moved up and down twice. It looked like he was talking with his hands, but he wasn’t actually speaking.

  “What the hell is going on?” whispered Merida through gritted teeth.

  Braden turned and pointed at his father, then turned back toward Theresa. The girl looked at Kim and then at the doctor, whose face dripped blood and drool onto the floor. Clearly Braden and the other young woman wanted Theresa to release the doctor, and for a second, Jessica thought she might relent. Her face relaxed, and she wiped tears from her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  But then suddenly the doctor reared his head back and slammed it into the floor, making a hollow thud that reverberated up and down the hallway.

  “No!” screamed Braden.

  The other young woman reached out to grab Theresa, but her movements seemed almost slow-motion.

  Jessica strained against the mental bonds that held her, her muscles burning. It felt like pushing against a brick wall as hard as she could. Her left foot rocked.

  Please, she prayed. But what did she think she was going to do?

  50

  It was as if an electrical storm was building around her. She could feel Braden and Celina striving with Theresa, whatever energies they made with their minds stirring in the air, the walls, even in her body.

  Val strained to break free of whatever hold Theresa had on her, but the girl was strong, probably stronger than Braden and Celina combined. Sweat saturated Val’s body from the effort, but she couldn’t move.

  The doctor continued to bash his head into the floor until finally his limbs shook wildly and he collapsed, his face resting in a smear of his own blood. And just like that, the hold that Theresa had on Val disappeared. As if a barrier she’d been pushing against suddenly broke, Val stumbled forward and found herself on her hands and knees.

  “You didn’t have to do that!” said Braden, his voice hitching.

  Val turned to look at her son. Jessica came up behind him and put her arms around him, dragging him backwards into the room. Her eyes met Val’s as she did.

  Theresa let out a sob. As Val got back to her feet, the girl slumped backwards into the wall, her face frozen in a grief that even Val didn’t know. She’d seen horrors in Iran, and she’d suffered more fear in the last two days than she had during all of her time in combat. But she couldn’t imagine what lay behind those green eyes.

  Celina, whose face was blank, crouched next to th
e doctor’s body and put her hand on the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair. Val thought of a priest giving a blessing to someone about to die.

  “I know we’re all freaked out,” Val said, “but this place is going to be crawling with DHS soon. Anybody who wants to ride with us, let’s get moving.”

  Jessica, Merida, and Kim had stepped out into the hallway. The woman in scrubs leaned in the doorway, holding her head in her hands and sniffling. Blood dripped down her forearm from where a bullet had grazed it.

  “Well, I’m not arguing,” said Jessica’s girlfriend. “I’ve seen enough blood and guts and guns and freaky shit to last me at least forever.”

  Val gave her a nod and turned to the woman in scrubs.

  “What’s your name?”

  The woman started as if Val had yelled at her. “Connie,” she said, taking her hands from her face.

  “She saved us,” said Jessica.

  “You’re going to help us get out of here,” said Val. “I cut the hand off of a dead man to open doors before. I don’t have to do that to you, right?”

  Connie shook her head, tears dripping down her skin. Val thought she ought to feel some kind of sympathy for her, but she couldn’t feel anything except disgust for the people who worked here.

  Be nice to her, Mom, said Braden in her head. She has a family at home. She’s scared for them.

  Val glanced at Braden, but didn’t respond. “Where’s the other guy? Francis?”

  Celina shook her head.

  “He went back,” she said.

  “Back?” said Kim.

  Celina gestured down the hall toward the stairwell to the cells below.

  “Why?” said Braden.

  “Never mind,” said Val. “We don’t have time to argue with him. We should be in the air right now.” She looked at Theresa. “What about you? You coming with us?”