Decimation: The Girl Who Survived

by Burke, Richard T.

  Kat paced backwards and forwards, sensing the receptionist’s gaze flicking across to her at frequent intervals. She glanced at her watch and was about to approach the reception desk a second time when a small, narrow-faced man sidled up to her.

  “Hello, I’m Julian Stefano,” the man said, extending a hand. “I’m Mrs Baxter’s personal assistant. Mrs Baxter is very busy. How can I help you?”

  Kat grasped the man’s sweaty palm and gave a perfunctory shake. “I don’t think you recognise the seriousness of the situation. We’re here to arrest her son.”

  Stefano did his best to hide the shock on his face. “I don’t understand. Mrs Baxter’s son?”

  “That’s what I just said. Now if you don’t want to be arrested yourself for obstructing a police investigation, I suggest you either tell me where Jason Baxter is or take me to see his mother.”

  “Um … I have no idea where he is. Can you just wait a moment while I talk to Mrs Baxter?”

  “I’m rapidly losing patience here. You better make it quick.”

  Stefano backed away, took out his phone and spoke into the handset in hushed tones. His eyes darted across to Kat several times during the conversation. He replaced the mobile in his breast pocket and retraced his steps. “Mrs Baxter will see you in the conference room. If you’d like to follow me.”

  He led the group through a door labelled ‘Staff Only’ and up a flight of stairs. He ushered them into an empty meeting room and hurried away. Three minutes later, Rosalind Baxter strode into the room, making no attempt to shake hands. She glared at the three police officers. “What’s this all about? I thought we’d been over everything on Saturday.”

  “Mrs Baxter, we have a warrant for your son’s arrest,” Kat said.

  “Not the trespassing thing again? My lawyers have assured me that there’s zero chance of that ever going to court.”

  “No. This is about the rape of Antimone Lessing. Ironically, I believe the girl died at this very facility.”

  “What’s that got to do with my son?”

  “We’ve been re-examining the evidence and have concluded that your son was responsible. But I’m sure you already knew that. I also have a judge’s order for a DNA sample.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve been conducting a manhunt for Daniel Floyd for months.”

  “It appears we were mistaken,” Kat said. “It seems that Daniel Floyd is your son’s biological father. Would you care to explain?”

  The blood drained from Rosalind’s face. “That … that’s confidential information.”

  “We can go into all that later. In the meantime, I want to know Jason’s whereabouts.”

  “I have no idea. I assume he’s at home.”

  “Apparently not. One of his school friends turned up wearing his clothes.”

  “Wearing his clothes? What do you mean?”

  “We waited for your son to return–”

  The ring tone from Rosalind’s mobile interrupted Kat’s words. Rosalind glanced at the display then clicked the cancel button. “You were saying.”

  Kat grimaced, but before she could repeat her statement the phone rang again.

  “Excuse me,” Rosalind said, “I need to take this.” She left the meeting room and stood in the corridor. Her voice carried through the open door. “I’m very busy, Anders. I’ve got the police here asking about Jason … He what? … Another boy? … Well, where is he? … In that case, I suggest you find him as soon as possible.”

  Rosalind Baxter returned and faced the three seated police officers.

  “I’m sorry, I have to go now. My assistant will show you out. I don’t know where my son is. Please let me know when you locate him.”

  Chapter 65

  Monday 17th January 2033

  Jason turned his back to the doctor, but he could sense the man’s eyes boring into his back. Prickles of perspiration formed on his forehead. The harsh sound of his breathing rushed in his ears. He heard the doors come together, and the floor sank away beneath him.

  “You must be new here. I’m not sure we’ve met. I’m John Edwards.”

  Jason remained silent.

  “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why do you have a full facemask on?”

  Pressure pushed up through Jason’s legs, and a ding signalled that the lift had reached the basement. An elongated swish accompanied the opening of the doors. The doctor stepped out, but when Jason risked a glance, the man was waiting for him. A bead of sweat rolled down Jason’s temple and onto his cheek. He took a deep breath, turned to face the doctor and followed him into the corridor.

  The man was studying Jason intently. His gaze settled on the blue canister in Jason’s hand then flicked down to the black lace-up shoes. Finally he raised his eyes and focused on Jason’s chest. “Why aren’t you wearing ID? Are you authorised to be down here?”

  Jason still didn’t answer. Instead, he dropped the coat, tossed the cylinder a few feet away and strode after it.

  “Hey”, said the man. “Come–”

  The object made a hissing sound, but there was no visible effect. For a moment, Jason worried that the gas grenade was not functioning correctly, but when he glanced behind him, the doctor was leaning against the wall with both hands, his head hanging down. Three seconds later, he had slumped to the ground, unconscious.

  Jason rummaged in the canvas bag and withdrew a second blue cylinder. Holding the lever down, he yanked out the pin. He raced down the featureless white passageway and skidded to a halt where it angled to the right. Assuming Antimone hadn’t been moved, they were detaining her in the room two doors down. However, when he had last seen her, a guard occupied a chair outside the doorway.

  Jason edged his head around the corner. The guard was there, but rather than sitting in the chair, he was on his hands and knees. As Jason watched, the man coughed once, and his arms slid outwards. His head hit the floor with an audible thump. The sound of running feet echoed along the corridor from his right. Jason lobbed the second grenade ahead of him in the direction of the approaching footsteps. It bounced a couple of times, rolled and came to rest. A man wearing a brown uniform and holding a long black baton in his hand staggered forwards and collapsed.

  Jason sprinted to the door the man had been guarding and peered through the small glass window. A woman in a blue nurse’s uniform stood on the other side, staring at him in confusion. She partially obscured another figure lying on the bed. He pushed the door, but it refused to open. Locked. His eyes flashed over the smooth white surface. No sign of a keyhole. His gaze settled on a small box, a red light at its centre, mounted on the wall. An electronic lock. He strode to the prostrate guard and rolled the man onto his back. With trembling hands, he rummaged through the uniform pockets until his fingers closed around a credit-card sized piece of thin plastic.

  Jason waved the card in front of the box. The light changed from red to green. He shoved, and the door opened inwards.

  The nurse took a step backwards. “What are you–” She clutched at her throat and sank to one knee. Seconds later she toppled sideways.

  Jason stood over the figure on the bed and stared down. For a moment he thought he had the wrong room. The pallid-faced girl with the layer of stubble on her scalp and the scabs covering her face looked nothing like the vivacious athlete he had known before. “What the hell have they done to you?”

  Confusion washed over Antimone’s face. “Ja–” she began. Her eyes rolled up in her head as she sagged backwards.

  “Let’s get you out of here,” he said to the now unconscious girl.

  Jason yanked off the white sheet covering his friend. She wore a thin blue patient gown. Now he could see that the scabs extended along both arms and legs, several of them still partially covered by plasters and dressings that were hanging half off. He placed his arms beneath her before realising that a pair of white straps bound her feet to the bed frame. Fumbling at the buckles, he released her legs then lifted her. He depo
sited her in the wheelchair and wrapped the sheet around her, tucking it in down the sides. Her head lolled to one side as he manoeuvred the chair to the door.

  Jason pulled the door handle, but it didn’t budge. He glanced at the small box to the side of the doorframe and spotted the red light shining at its centre. The damned thing was locked again. Where had he put the card? He tried first one pocket then the other and sighed with relief as he grasped the thin plastic. He stuck his head into the corridor and surveyed left and right. Other than the two unconscious men, it was empty.

  Jason grabbed the wheelchair handles and reversed out. At any second he expected the blare of an alarm, but all he could hear was the rasping of his own breath. He swivelled the chair and propelled it forwards, only slowing to turn the corner. Sprinting past the unconscious doctor, he reached the lift and jabbed at the call button. The doors slid apart immediately. Retrieving the coat from where he had dumped it, he dropped it on Antimone’s lap then pushed her inside and snatched the mobile from his breast pocket. His finger prodded the green connect icon. He held the device to his ear and waited for an answer. Silence. In a mounting panic he stared at the phone’s screen. No signal.

  “No, no, no,” he said. “Not now.”

  He stepped outside the elevator. Still no signal. “Oh, crap.”

  “Hang on,” he said aloud. He withdrew the key card from his pocket and waved it in front of the control panel. No effect. The only sign of activity was a bright red light emanating from the centre of the blank console. Finally, it dawned on him. “Damn. An iris scanner.”

  In despair, Jason returned the card to his pocket. Come on, think.

  He exited the lift again and stared first one way then the other down the corridor. His eyes settled on the comatose form of the doctor. Of course!

  He rolled the man onto his back and grabbed him under the arms. Gasping from the effort, he dragged the man inside the elevator, surprised at how much he weighed. He hauled the man to a half standing position and heaved him towards the reader. When the man was in roughly the right spot, Jason held him around the chest with one arm and prised open an eyelid with the fingers of the other. No reaction.

  Maybe it was keyed to one eye only. He adjusted his stance and swapped to the other eye. After what seemed like an age, the red light turned off, and a green G took its place. His finger prodded the letter. The panel now displayed an up arrow.

  “At last,” Jason said, lowering the unconscious doctor to the floor. The doors slid shut with a swish, and the lift surged upwards.

  Chapter 66

  Monday 17th January 2033

  The lift doors slid apart. Jason expected a crowd of security guards to be waiting for him, but the corridor was empty. He removed the mask from his face and stuffed it into the bag. Next, he grabbed his phone and inspected the display. It was once again indicating a strong signal. He stabbed a finger at the green call button.

  “Have you got her?” the voice at the other end asked without any preamble.

  “Yeah. She’s unconscious and in a wheelchair, but I think she’s okay. I’ve got a key card, so I won’t need you to do your thing. Where are you?”

  “I’ll bring the car as close to the entrance as I can get,” Floyd said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “See you in a sec.” Jason pulled the doctor’s card from his pocket and ran towards the security door. In his haste, Antimone’s legs bumped into the sealed door. She gave a low moan, but her eyes remained closed. Jason waved the card at the small plastic box. The red light changed to green. Reaching forwards, he shoved the door open. A man wearing a pale blue shirt, yellow tie and black trousers stood on the other side, an access card in his hand. The man held the door for Jason as he propelled the wheelchair into the reception area. The man turned to stare as Jason hurried across the busy floor space.

  Jason kept his eyes forward, but was aware of the glances he was receiving. He forced himself to slow down and tried to act as if he was simply taking a patient out for a breath of fresh air.

  He was ten paces from the revolving door when a shout came from behind. “Hey you! Stop!”

  Jason gave up all pretence of normality and sprinted the remaining distance. The front of the chair brushed against the leg of a woman who was chatting to a colleague to one side of the exit. She whirled around angrily. “Watch out, will you?”

  Now all eyes were on him. Most people shrank back, but one man dressed in a thick, green, winter coat took a step forwards. The man reached out an arm, but Jason swatted it away and barrelled into the rotating chamber. He risked a glance behind him and was relieved to see that nobody had attempted to follow him inside the semi-circular compartment. It seemed like a lifetime before the gap opened onto the frigid January evening.

  Jason snatched another hasty peek over his shoulder. A security guard had reached the glass panel and was pushing against it to make it turn faster. His actions had the opposite to the desired effect. The door juddered to a halt and stopped rotating altogether. The man glared at Jason and shouted something that was whisked away in the cold breeze. He removed his hands from the pane of glass, and the door lurched into movement again.

  Jason surged ahead. He tipped the wheelchair back so that the small front wheels were in the air. The coat slipped off Antimone’s lap and dropped to the ground, but he didn’t try to retrieve it. A man and a woman who were heading to the building stopped to stare at the scene of a doctor propelling a patient at high speed towards the car park.

  Another shout from behind. “Stop! Come back!”

  Jason accelerated along the wide stretch of paving and spotted the blue vehicle parked at the side of the roundabout that led to the car parks and back to the main road. Floyd stood beside his car, hopping nervously from one foot to the other. Seeing Jason approach, he pulled the rear door open.

  “Come on, hurry,” Floyd shouted.

  “I’m going as fast as I can.” Jason skidded to a halt, one wheel of the chair bumping into the rear quarter of Floyd’s car.

  “Hey, watch that,” Floyd said as he bent down and placed his hands below the unconscious girl’s arms. “Give me a hand here.”

  “Piece of old crap,” Jason muttered. He grabbed Antimone’s legs and lifted. Floyd clambered across the back seat, dragging the girl with him. As soon as her legs were inside the vehicle, Jason slammed the door. He whirled to see the security guard advancing towards him, swishing his baton menacingly. The man jumped forwards and swung with all his power. Jason swayed backwards, the tip missing his chin by inches. Spotting that the man was off balance, Jason sought to nullify the weapon by enveloping him in a bear hug.

  The man bucked and thrashed in an attempt to break free. Jason felt his grip weakening, and the guard released an arm. The man’s elbow smashed into the side of Jason’s head. Jason’s vision turned grey as he staggered backwards. The man followed up with a vicious swing of the baton that caught Jason on the upper part of his arm. He fell to the ground and covered his head with his remaining good arm in anticipation of the blow that would end it.

  A yell of rage erupted from a few feet away. Jason looked up to see Floyd flying through the air and crashing into the guard. The pair hit the pavement in a tumble of limbs. The baton bounced away. Jason sprang to his feet to retrieve it. He snatched it up and turned to face the two struggling men.

  Floyd sat astride the guard, one hand pinning the other’s throat. He drew his fist back and slammed it into the man’s face.

  “Leave …”

  Another blow.

  “… him …”

  The crunch of knuckles against the soft cartilage of the nose.

  “… alone.”

  Floyd cocked his fist again, but it was clear that his opponent had no fight left in him. Blood bubbled from his shattered nose and splattered the brown shirt of his uniform.

  More shouts from the direction of the building.

  Jason stared at the three men dressed in brown uniforms, sprinting t
owards them, batons drawn. “Come on. Leave him. We need to go.”

  Floyd clambered to his feet and faced the approaching guards. For a moment Jason thought Floyd would attack them too, but instead, he kicked the prostrate man in the ribs and headed back to the car.

  “Does that collapse?” Floyd asked, gesturing to the wheelchair, his breath coming in huge gulps.

  “I think so.” Jason ran his eyes over the mechanism. “Here.” He slid a lever across, and the chair concertinaed to half its original size.

  “Toss it in,” Floyd said, hurrying around the back of the vehicle and opening the boot. He slammed it closed and rushed to the driver’s door.

  Jason yanked the passenger door open and threw himself in beside Floyd. The engine roared into life, and the wheels scrabbled for purchase as Floyd released the clutch. The first of the guards made a grab for the rear door handle, but he was a second too late. The tyres screeched as the car surged forwards out of his reach.

  Jason turned in his seat to see one of the men talking urgently into a phone and the other two tending to their injured colleague. He turned back to Floyd, a grin on his face. “That was close, but we did it.”

  “Yeah. I haven’t had that much fun in ages, but it isn’t over yet. We’ve still got to get to somewhere safe.”

  With that, Floyd gunned the two-litre diesel engine and raced towards the main road.

  Chapter 67

  Monday 17th January 2033

  Rosalind Baxter held the phone to her ear. She spoke with a cold fury. “So you’re saying that the boy single-handedly waltzed into a high-security area, unlocked God knows how many supposedly secure doors and then casually made his way out with a girl who is worth billions of pounds to this company? What the hell do I pay you for Anders?”

  The voice on the other end began an explanation, but Rosalind cut him off. “I don’t care about that now. Get the girl and my son back. Use whatever force you deem necessary. If you get the chance to get rid of Floyd that would go some way towards compensating for this cock-up. Oh and one other thing. I want two armed men guarding her child, twenty-four hours a day. Do you think you can achieve that without messing it up?”