Jacob placed his finger to his lips and took more of her weight on his arm. He managed to hook his leg around one of the uprights and secure their position.
“Stand down,” a voice shouted, coming from the right corridor. Two soldiers, their rifles firmly against their shoulders, kicked open the door and trained their weapons on the synthetics. Another soldier entered through the opposite side, catching the synthetics in a pincer movement.
The two synthetics drew handguns from within their clothing and fired as they split apart, heading for the two ends of the warehouse and drawing fire as they went.
Jacob winced at the sudden burst of fire and noise.
The eruption of violence spurred him on.
“Time to move,” Jacob said.
While the soldiers and synthetics were busy trying to put lead into each other, Jacob hoisted his weight up until he could place his feet on the shelf and reach up to the pipes and ducting overhead. Emma followed him, bringing her leg up before rolling onto the topmost shelf and joining him.
From their elevated position, Jacob watched as the synthetics, using the metal cases for cover, timed their shots as they ducked in and out, keeping the soldiers at bay. The single soldier on the left side took a bullet to the gut and fell forward, screaming over the cacophony of gunfire.
Jacob climbed onto the pipework. Emma followed.
“I can’t reach,” Jacob said, and walked a few feet further along until he stood beneath the skylight. Emma stood behind him, holding his waist for balance.
“Need a boost?” Emma said into his ear.
Given the echoing gunfire below, they didn’t have to worry about being heard, and the pipework hid their position from anyone looking directly up.
“Wait,” Jacob said. “I have an idea.”
He headed back down the pipes, this time on his hands and knees to keep his profile small. On the next to last shelf was a long, wide cardboard box containing air-conditioning filters. Two-foot-square metal frames holding a mesh. That’s all he’d need.
He returned to Emma, timing his movements with the gunshots that now came sporadically as both the synthetics and the soldiers probably conserved ammo. He wouldn’t have long to use their sound as cover.
Emma gave him a questioning look.
“Boost me up so I can smash through the skylight.”
“They’ll hear.”
“Not if we time it right. I’m not seeing any other options.”
Emma hesitated, then started when another shot went off. She nodded her head and held her hands against her thigh. He sprang up, lifting the filter as far as he could. It would just about hit.
He lost his balance and stumbled down. “I’ll time it with the shot. Are you ready?” Jacob said.
“No. But there’s no alternative, right?”
“Not unless you like our chances down there?”
“Okay,” Emma said. “Now or never.”
She bent down low behind him, hugging him around the waist and lifting him up. Waiting for another gunshot, Jacob thrust the filter up, smashing the metal frame into the edge of the skylight. It moved, the plastic pyramid jolting out of its frame.
“One more will do it,” he whispered.
They waited until the fighting continued below and repeated the procedure. This time, Jacob got the timing all wrong. He was trying to anticipate the synthetics’ handgun reply to a burst from the soldiers’ guns, but the synthetics must have been out of ammo. After another short burst there was no follow-up noise.
Apart from him smashing the frame against the skylight.
Emma brought him back down. The silence gripped Jacob like a cold fever. He pictured the synthetics and the soldiers training their weapons upwards and scanning the shelves. He dared to look over the edge of the pipework to see the soldiers kneeling in the doorway of the corridor, or at least their shadows. They were further back.
Although they’d probably heard the noise, they didn’t seem keen to enter the main warehouse with the synthetics still using the storage boxes for cover.
The soldier on the left side groaned and mewled as he gripped his leg. A pool of blood had gathered around his body. The two synthetics seemed to be deciding what to do. In a flash, one of them darted from behind the storage box, and with a speed Jacob could barely believe, rushed to the dying soldier, burying a knife into the back of his head. The synthetic grabbed the soldier’s rifle and stepped to his side, firing off a short burst towards the soldiers on the other side, who probably didn’t have a clear view.
They certainly knew they were being fired on, though. One of them screamed out, and the other returned fire, sending the synthetic rushing over to the shelving unit for cover.
“Now,” Jacob said, sensing both the advantage of cover from the shooting and the urgency of the synthetic’s proximity.
Emma lifted him again and this time he could just push the skylight from its frame. It slid down the roof but thankfully didn’t make much noise.
Jacob gripped the edges and hoisted himself up, sliding his butt to the edge before lifting his legs out and clear. The roof was steeper than he’d thought. From below there must have been a kind of mezzanine that made it seem like it would be flat, but it was angled at a steep pitch.
Still, he turned, flattening his body against the cold roof tiles and reaching his arms down. “Jump,” he mouthed to Emma. She hesitated for a moment, but when gunfire clattered below, she leapt up, grabbing Jacob’s hands. He didn’t quite have the position required to haul her up and she was hanging in the air.
A bullet hit the underside of the pipework, making it ring like a bell. “They’ve seen us,” Emma said, pulling on Jacob’s arms. He felt his grip start to slip.
Jacob glanced down. A soldier was reloading below.
“I can’t hold on,” he said, frantically trying to squeeze his hands around her wrist. His right hand came free, but she grabbed him with her hand, getting a grip of his jacket sleeve.
Another bullet whistled past Emma and punctured the roof next to Jacob. He reflexively jolted away. He lost his balance and started to fall down the side of the roof, all the while holding on as much as he could to Emma.
His weight and gravity brought Emma up until she finally let go with one arm and brought it up outside of the hole, resting her elbow on the edge and levering herself up.
As bullets began to strike more of the pipework and ducting, Jacob continued to fall, and Emma finally managed to get her waist up and out, until she too was now out on the pitched roof and sliding down its slippery tiles.
Without the resistance holding him back, Jacob sped down the roof; all the while he tried to dig in his heels to stop his frantic descent.
Emma screamed behind him.
He put his hands down, hoping to slow himself, but the tiles just scraped his skin. The silver light of the moon lit their destination: a dusty patch of scrubland at least twenty feet below the bottom of the roof.
The smashed remnants of the yellow plastic skylight littered a landing mark.
Jacob had no choice but to brace for impact as his legs went over the edge and his body followed. His guts lurched as he went into free fall. It happened faster than he anticipated. He hit the ground hard, twisting his ankle, sending him face first into the dirt with a heavy thud that knocked him clean out.
***
Jacob blinked. His right cheek felt like it was on fire. Then he felt the rest of his body scream in pain as he tried to move. His ankle stabbed at him when he tried to move it. A swollen bump had built up near his temple.
Emma sat in front of him.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I panicked. I didn’t mean to hit you so hard, but you wouldn’t wake up.”
“We need to go,” Jacob said through gritted teeth. His ribs felt bruised. Each breath brought a new wave of agony.
A series of boulders lay a hundred feet away to the north. He remembered Zoe saying they should go north, but he was in no state to travel ten miles.
“They’ve stopped shooting,” Emma said.
“Could mean either they’ve killed each other, or they’re coming after us.” Jacob’s gaze travelled up the pitched roof of the compound. Yellow light lit up the square of the now-empty skylight.
Emma stood and dusted herself off. She winced and sucked in a breath when she straightened up.
“Are you okay?” Jacob asked. “Anything broke or damaged?”
“Other than my nerves, I’m just a bit banged up. You?”
“I think I might have broken my ankle, or perhaps a bad sprain, I don’t know.”
“Come on, lean on me. Let’s get the hell out of here while we’re still breathing.”
Emma brought his arm over her shoulder and helped him to stand. He kept his bad ankle off the ground and hopped forward as Emma aided in bearing his weight. All the time they headed for the boulders, he remained tense, waiting for a bullet to hit him in the back.
The compound was nothing like what he’d expected to see on the outside. If you were driving past, you’d mistake it for an industrial building. There were three parts to it. Two smaller wings stood on either side of the larger central section that he knew was the warehouse. To the right of the compound was a small airstrip with a military plane at one end of it. He recognized it as the ones used in the last Gulf war to transport troops and equipment; he couldn’t see any signs of movement in the cockpit.
“Do you think that’s an official military transporter?” Jacob asked as they continued to hobble to the boulders. He realized how cold it was out here. Luckily it wasn’t raining, but the chilled winds soon penetrated his flimsy jacket. His breath condensed with each word.
“I don’t know,” Emma said. “Let’s ponder it later.”
After what seemed like an eternity, they reached the boulders without taking a bullet to the back. Jacob slumped to the ground, his back against the cold stones. They were high enough to obscure them from view, but it wouldn’t take a genius to know they were there, given the bare, dusty scrubland.
Emma sat next to him, huddled close.
“It’s cold,” Emma said.
“Probably the shock.”
The cool air chilled the sweat on his forehead. He wiped it away and sighed, wondering what the hell they should do next.
“It was all well and good, Zoe giving us her number,” Jacob said. “But she could have given us a cell to call her on.”
“I don’t think she had time to think. It’s like a cover-up of a cover-up, and those damned cyborgs or whatever the hell they are…” She trailed off.
“We’re safe for now,” Jacob said. “We’ll survive, trust me.”
He hugged her in close, ignoring the pain in his ribs. He used it as a motivation to think of a way out of their predicament. They’d likely freeze if they stayed out all morning, and they couldn’t return to the safe house.
“We could always take the plane,” he said, thinking out loud.
Emma laughed, her body rocking against his. “You’ve been playing too many video games. This ain’t Grand Theft Aero.”
Despite the situation, Jacob smiled. They would need to stay positive if they were to survive this, but as quick as the comic relief came, it disappeared as yet more gunfire echoed across the space between them and the compound.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
4:50 a.m., Day 4, Montana
Excellent news, Michael. Call in the chopper,” Gray said.
He enjoyed watching Vega’s expression change. The revelation of Unit A’s success looked like it had sent a shockwave through Vega’s body as her eyes widened and she tensed.
“Nuclear launch codes?” she spluttered.
“Yes, you heard him correctly,” Gray said.
“You won’t be able to use them.”
“Yes, we will.”
“That’s impossible. You’d have to get control of a—”
“Missile Alert Facility?”
“You won’t make it through the security.”
“Won’t we?”
“The synthetics, they’re around a…”
“Agent Vega, I credited you with more intelligence. Do you think the ring of eight around the nuclear power station are my synthetics? Please.”
“You’re bluffing. If they’re not the synthetics, what are they? We wouldn’t still be looking if there wasn’t a detectable signal.”
“At last, you’re getting there. Michael’s team placed eight transceivers around the station.”
“And the map?”
“I planted that in Miller’s rat-infested trailer,” Michael said.
“It was reasonable to assume you’d search the place after hearing his story. Pawn to king four,” Gray said.
“Why are you doing this? What are you hoping to achieve?” Vega said.
“You’ll find out. Be patient,” Gray said.
He turned as the door creaked open. A synthetic stood outside.
“All clear,” it said. “We’ve taken the complex, two casualties. What would you like us to do?”
“Great teamwork. Who took out Jacob Miller?”
“We couldn’t find him. Are you sure he’s here?”
Gray bit his lip. He spun to face Vega. “Where is Mr. Miller?”
“He’s long gone. You won’t find him,” Vega said.
“We’ll see about that.” Gray turned back to the synthetic. “Find him and kill him. You’ve got five minutes. Check every corner of this place, every nook and cranny. He’s here.”
“He seems important to you,” Vega said.
Gray closed his eyes tightly, taking two deep breaths. Miller was an irritating flea who deserved swatting, nothing more. He grabbed the laptop off the table, smashing it against the bench four times until his anger subsided.
Taking a moment to compose his rage, he reminded himself he was still in control; the cards were in his favor.
“Time to go,” Gray said. He pointed at Vega. “Her boss will have his people heading here.”
Michael grabbed the back of Vega’s collar, pulling her to a standing position. She stumbled forward as Michael pushed her out of the room.
Gray followed, closing the door, securing it with the bolt.
He walked along the corridor, through an entrance hall, exiting the building through a thick wooden door. The fresh air proved a welcome break. He looked into the breaking dawn sky after hearing the distinctive buzz of a distant helicopter.
A synthetic stood by the front gates, next to a security cabin. Gray walked over with his hands in his pockets and looked through the glass. Inside, a guard slumped over the table. “I don’t suppose you’ve found Miller?”
“Still no sign, Doctor. He’s hiding in there somewhere. It’ll just be a matter of time.”
Gray watched the chopper descend outside the compound. He turned away from the spray of dust generated by the spinning blades.
Michael appeared from the building, pushing Vega towards the gates. Three synthetics followed, one limping, holding its thigh.
“She’s right; no sign of him,” Michael said.
Vega stared at the security cabin.
“Miller would have been a nice bonus,” Gray said. “But in the grand scheme of things, he’s inconsequential. Take Agent Vega to the chopper. I’ll brief the team.”
“What’s the plan?” Michael said.
Gray patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll leave a welcoming party here and send their plane eastwards.”
“So it’s just us and her on the chopper?”
“Yes, I assume you’re okay with that?”
Michael grunted. He shoved Vega through the gates, leaving Gray with the four remaining synthetics.
“I assume the pilots are dead?” Gray said to his creations. He was met with blank expressions. “The pilots of the C130; are they dead?”
Two tried to answer at the same time, cutting each other off.
Gray pointed to one. “You.”
“We found two wear
ing green jumpsuits in the kitchen. They’re eliminated.”
“Are you confident enough to fly the plane?” Gray said.
“I’ve had the training…”
“That’s good enough. Fly it towards the East Coast. Give them something else to think about.”
“Then what?”
“Bail out over Illinois if you can. We can’t take the equipment Vega stole from me, so load it up and take it down. I don’t like to keep soiled goods. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“What about the rest of us, Doctor?”
“I expect another group to turn up shortly, probably similar to the one you’ve just encountered. Dispatch them. If Mr. Miller appears, deal with him. I’ll be in touch with more instructions when I get to the sub.”
The group of four collectively turned and headed for the building.
Gray strolled to the helicopter. He clambered through the side door, sliding it shut behind him. He sat on a seat opposite Michael and Vega. Michael still held her by the collar. Her eyes closed slightly as she met Gray’s stare.
“Don’t be like that, Agent Vega; you’ll thank me in the long run,” Gray said.
“Can you tell me where we’re going now?” she asked.
Gray clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “We’ve got a submarine to catch.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
5:05 a.m., Day 4, Montana
In the dusky predawn, Jacob squeezed his sneaker back on, despite the pain from his swollen left ankle.
The joint throbbed, making him clench his jaw. He leaned back against the cool boulder and shut his eyes, willing the agony to stop.
“I can’t do it,” he said to Emma. “It must be broken.” He hated the feeling of uselessness. He and his conspiracy theories, although proven, had led to pain and exhaustion, to the point where he felt he couldn’t go on.
The gunfire from within the compound had stopped ten minutes ago, and he faced the decision of returning to the compound to recover any evidence, or somehow trying to head north as Agent Vega had instructed.
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