Ursie lifted her head to see a long, broad room that stretched off into the distance for some way. It was dimly lit by a smattering of spotlights that created thin shafts of illumination, like glowing yellow pine trees punctuating the darkness. The roof was low and tight, and Ursie could vaguely see more of those gaping holes that Knile had told her about in the roof, making it look like a block of swiss cheese.
The place was cluttered with a latticework of thin beams, both vertical and horizontal, a whole network of them, and Ursie wondered if Knile had led her into some kind of maze. Then her gaze dropped further and she saw a pair of large, glinting brown eyes staring right at her from the gloom.
She gasped and fell back, clutching for Knile.
“Take it easy,” Knile said, unconcerned. He snatched up his flashlight and pointed it in at the wall nearby. “Haven’t you ever seen a cow before?”
Ursie steadied herself and looked over again at the eyes peering through the wooden beams at her. On closer inspection, she could now see the outline of the cow’s face and the bulk of its body beyond. Glancing about, she saw that there were many, many more of them, standing quietly and regarding her with a kind of dull impassiveness.
“What are they doing here?” Ursie said.
“They live here,” Knile said, walking away urgently with his flashlight still trained on the wall. “It’s one of the livestock pens.”
Ursie clamped two fingers on her nose to block the smell.
“I think one of them died,” she said, her voice nasally. “Maybe more.”
“That’s just the natural fragrance of the pen,” Knile said. “I guess when you combine all the cow dung, the gases that are released when their stomachs break down that shitty grain mix they’re forced to eat–”
“It’s probably better if I don’t know,” Ursie said.
“Right.” Knile reached an orange box on the wall, a distribution board, and used a screwdriver from his bag of tools to pry it open. Inside was a column of circuit breakers, most of which had been flicked to the off position.
“What are you doing?” Ursie said.
Knile seemed to scan the faded labels on the breakers, dragging his finger down as he muttered the names to himself.
“Trying to find the exit,” he said. His finger ceased its descent, resting on a label that read Funnel2, and he flicked the breaker to the on position. Some distance away a white fluoro clicked on, revealing a broad, horizontally segmented door set in the far wall.
“That should lead to the meatworks,” Knile said.
Ursie raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“There’s more places to hide that way,” Knile said, closing the distribution board. “More chances to lose these guys.”
“As long as we don’t fall into the mincer. What–”
Ursie stopped and turned back to the entrance. There was the unmistakable sound of something scratching at the outside lock.
“Shit,” Knile said, flinging open the distribution board again. He jammed the screwdriver into the first breaker and snapped it free of its screws with a sharp wrenching motion, then went on and did the same to the second, then the third. Behind her, the overhead cones of yellow light began to wink out.
The scratching on the door ceased, and then a moment later there was a loud, resounding thud as whoever it was tried to force the door.
“We need to move!” Ursie hissed. The livestock began to shift, agitated, their hooves stomping and scraping on the hard flooring as they shied away from the banging at the door.
“One second!” Knile said, moving down the line of breakers and snapping them off into his hand. There was another thud at the door, and a woody cracking sound as the lock began to give.
“Hurry up!” Ursie said.
Knile reached the last breaker, tearing it off into his palm and then flinging the handful into the air, out above the pen, where they rained down on the unsuspecting cattle, causing several of them to jump and make disgruntled groans. He grabbed Ursie by the hand and led her toward the nearest pen, ducking between a gap in the beams and sliding through to join the animals inside. The beasts shied again, their dull eyes suddenly wild, and then Knile clicked the flashlight off and plunged the room into darkness.
A moment later the door gave way under the force of another thunderous blow, and it crashed open with a loud metallic clunk that resounded throughout the room. A swath of white light from the hallway outside cut across the herd like the headlights of a car on a moonless night.
“Here,” Knile whispered, never letting go of Ursie’s hand as they kept low and headed toward the large door at the other end of the room. “Don’t rush, and don’t make any sudden movements. We don’t want to give away our position.”
Shadows danced in the doorway and then they heard the clear voice of a man ring out.
“Start looking,” someone said.
“I’ll find the lights,” added another.
“Shit, how many are there?” Ursie said.
Flashlights seared into the blackness overhead, cycling past like lighthouse beams and illuminating the backs and shoulders of the beasts around Knile and Ursie. There were footsteps as one of the men came nearer, and then the sound of the distribution board creaking open.
“They’ve mashed the panel, Jordan.”
“Spread out,” the other man said. “Find them.”
There were more shadows in the doorway, and the sound of others entering. Hushed voices.
“Keep heading toward the entrance to the meatworks,” Knile whispered, and Ursie nodded. As the flashlights swept across again, she noted in some remote part of her brain that these beasts did not seem particularly healthy. Their hides were patchy and mottled with sores, and many of them seemed to be afflicted with some sort of scaly black skin condition that engulfed the entirety of their hind legs, making it appear as though they’d been standing with their rumps in a fire.
I better not catch some goddamn disease in here, she thought, even though at that point in time such a concern came a far-distant second to the problem of the men with guns. One of the cows flicked its ears as she passed as if shooing away some unseen gnat, staring at her impassively.
“Knile?” a loud voice suddenly boomed from the doorway. Ursie stifled a gasp and then went thumping into Knile’s back as the cow next to her knocked her askew in its fright. There was the sound of many hooves stamping and shifting on the floor again, and then the voice returned. “Knile, I know you’re in here.”
Knile looked back toward the doorway to see the silhouette of a man towering above the cattle, perched on one of the highest rungs of the cow pen like a stockman of old keeping watch over his herd.
“Stay low,” Knile cautioned.
“Knile,” the man went on. “My name is Alton Wilt. I’m a businessman who recently took an interest in your… activities.” Wilt’s voice was deep and commanding as it rang out across the pens. There was also an uncompromising quality about it that made Knile deeply uneasy. “I have a proposal for you. I’m here to tell you that you can still walk out of this room alive.”
Yeah, right, Knile thought.
“I’m here to tell you that if you’re willing to offer your co-operation, you don’t have to die in here.” The silhouette dropped and there was a loud slap as Wilt’s boots hit the floor. He began to pace along the edge of the pens, making no effort to mask his movements. “Stand up, right now, and bring the passkey to me. After you place it in my hand, my interest in you will cease. You can go on your way and live to fight another day. I’ll even give you a nice bag of creds for your trouble.”
So it is the passkey he’s after, Knile thought. No real surprises there.
The pacing stopped, and Knile heard the boots slide and brush against the flooring, and he realised that Wilt was coming into the pens after him.
“You’re a resourceful man, Knile. You wouldn’t have avoided me for this long if you weren’t. You can organise yourself another passkey. You can still get
what you want.” There was a pause, as if Wilt was giving him a chance to answer. “If we do things the right way, we can both get what we want, and no one has to get hurt.”
Knile counted two other flashlights moving amongst the cattle, but he knew that there might be more pursuers than that, surreptitiously searching in the dark so as not to give themselves away. He lifted his pace slightly. The exit couldn’t be far way.
Behind him, Wilt sighed as if exasperated.
“You should know that this is not a small matter, Knile.” Wilt’s previous conciliatory tone was now tinged with anger and impatience. “This is not some frivolous diversion that I added to my schedule last week. This is everything to me. This is my life.
“I’ve done things I’m not proud of to get here today, Knile. I’ve done terrible things to keep my wealth and power. And why? Because without those, what chance would I have of ever leaving this place?”
Knile had no intention of replying, and now Wilt’s veneer of civility was beginning to fray.
“Would you like to know what I’m capable of, Knile? Let me tell you. I’ve shot and killed innocent men in front of their wives. In front of their children. Blown their heads apart and left them seeping blood and shit all over their own living room floors. I’ve snatched creds from the hands of hopelessly addicted wretches who were too stupid and weak to say no, even when they were naught but skin and bones. I didn’t relent, Knile. I didn’t let them out of my grasp until their very souls had fled their withered bodies.
“If there is a Hell, I’m going there. I’m standing on the edge of a very deep and dark chasm. I know that. But, in turn, you should know that it’s too late for me to turn around now. My course is set, and it can’t be changed. Why? Because I sent a child – the only thing on this planet that I ever loved – out into the unknown. I abandoned her. I failed her, and I will not relent until I’ve undone that wrong.”
His voice was so loud he was almost shouting now.
“I need to get off this fucking planet, Knile. I need to find my daughter again. And I will trample over the bones of a thousand more men, women and children if that’s what it takes to do it, because her forgiveness is the only thing that matters to me now. It’s the only thing that will stop my soul from tearing itself apart.”
The echo of his voice faded away, and the silence that followed seemed utterly pervasive. Even the cattle had stopped shuffling, as if held in thrall.
The moment was interrupted by the sudden screeching clamour of metal, and Knile looked with horror to see the door to the meatworks folding upward, and two more men in suits appeared, backlit by faint blue light.
“If you cross me,” Wilt grated, his voice sounding very close, “I’ll send you through the meat grinder like just one more of these fucking cattle. And I can assure you, the process will not be quick.”
Knile glanced around frantically looking for an avenue of escape. The meatworks were now out of the question – the two men who had appeared at the large door were still there guarding it. Perhaps if he and Ursie could double back they would be able to sneak out through the first door again. That was likely a risky move, however. A low percentage move.
His hand touched the grip of the 9mm in his belt, but the thought quickly left him. If he pulled that thing out and started firing there was no chance of him walking out of here alive. Not against this many men.
He continued to look about, and then his eyes fell on one of the dark cavities in the roof just above them.
That’s it, he thought. Even though he was terrified of being lost in the labyrinth of tunnels up there, it was still a better option than any of the others he had come up with.
Knile turned to Ursie and pointed his finger toward the wall beside them, where a large round pipe with a lip at the bottom, possibly a grain dispenser for the cattle, ran vertically from the ceiling. Then he indicated to the roof. Her eyes lifted, and as his intentions became clear, they widened in panic.
She mouthed the word No, but Knile only pointed more emphatically and nodded his head.
There was a sharp noise on the other side of the room and a man cried out, and the flashlights spun and zeroed in on the sound as one. Knile reacted instantly, gripping Ursie by the hips and pulling himself up the grain feeder, hoisting her upward. He struggled up the pipe and lifted her even higher, and, without any other choice, she struggled and groped for the lip of the aperture. To Knile’s great relief she found purchase and began to wiggle upward and out of sight.
“Shit, sorry,” one of the men called, holding up his hand to fend off the flashlight beams that were pointed at him. “This fucking buffalo thing kicked me.”
“Well, don’t try to put your dick in it next time,” one of the other men said gruffly. This was greeted by coarse laughter, but then Wilt’s voice came over the top of them.
“Shut up!” he snarled, and there was instant quiet.
Knile climbed higher up the pipe, but then realised that there was a considerable gap between where it ended and where the roof began. He wasn’t sure he could even jump that high. Ursie’s face appeared dimly as she looked back down at him, but he knew that she would have neither the reach nor the strength to pull him up.
The flashlight beams were leaving the buffalo man, swinging out across the herd again.
Knile placed his foot on the nearest cow as he tried to gain more height. It groaned in protest and shimmied to the side and Knile barely kept his balance. He looked up, found the aperture again and weighed up the leap.
A flashlight fell upon him, blindingly bright. There was a shout of alarm, and Knile imagined the man behind that glaring beam bringing up a gun in his direction.
Knile roared at the top of his lungs, stamping down on the hide of the cow under his foot with all of his might, and the herd responded as one, bleating in terror and lurching away. Knile threw himself at the hole in the roof as the beast thundered away, and he somehow caught the edge of it with one hand. The flashlight that had been trained on him wavered and fell away as the man took evasive action from the oncoming stampede, and Knile secured a grip with his other hand and began to pull himself up.
There was a gunshot, and then pandemonium. Cattle cried out and thrashed as they tried to escape the darkened confines of the pen, a man screamed under the sound of hooves, and there were more shots as Knile pulled his feet clear.
One of the rounds thudded into the roof only centimetres from the aperture. A second hit even closer.
Knile pulled himself further into the tunnel using grooves set into its floor, and then he and Ursie were up and running, fleeing into the darkness.
Duran sprinted down the hallway, brushing past the terrified workers who were running away from the sound of gunshots. One old man stood pointing, waggling a finger so vigorously it looked like it was about to fall off.
“They’re killin’ the beasts!” he cried in a gummy drawl. “Down in thar’ livestock pens!”
“Get back, please,” Duran said calmly, never breaking stride. The old man disappeared behind him and he powered on. The workers began to thin out, and the gunfire had now ceased.
Finally Duran reached the door of the livestock pen, sliding his shoulder against the wall until he could see inside. He drew his .40-calibre pistol and held it upright.
“Enforcers!” he yelled. “Put your weapons down and get down on the floor.” There was no response. “There’s a Breach Team incoming on this position right now,” he lied. “I won’t warn you again. Get down!”
He glanced further inside the room, seeing nothing but skittish cattle jostling about, then stepped inside the doorway, turning his .40 in an arc across the darkened space. Flicking on his flashlight, he continued moving along the wall, making small and careful movements of his feet as he strafed the outer edge of the pen. He reached the distribution board and looked inside, hoping to reactivate the lights, then cursed when he found it had been damaged.
More Enforcers began to appear in the doorway, a cou
ple of flatfoots who must have been nearby when the fracas broke out. They gripped their pistols and peered down at Duran uncertainly.
“It’s Duran. Inspector Alec Duran. Get some floodlights in here, right away. Lighting system’s been fried.”
They nodded obediently and then disappeared again. Duran continued along toward the other end of the room, but his pistol dropped and then he replaced it in his holster.
He knew that, whatever had happened here, he’d missed it.
31
Knile activated his flashlight, even though he knew it would act as a beacon for those following. There was no other choice. The tunnel they found themselves in branched off in many different directions – some led further upward, others in lateral directions. Others dropped straight out of the floor like tenebrous holes, pitfalls that led to who knew where. The last thing Knile wanted was to tumble down one such trap and end up falling straight into a meat grinder or even a hard, unyielding floor several levels below. If the fall was great enough, his velocity might be enough to break his legs when he hit bottom.
“Stop!” Ursie gasped as they reached one such hole. She stood on the edge of it, panting and looking down into the blackness. “We’re stuck! Go back!”
“I can see the other side, right there!” Knile said, pointing. “We have to jump.”
“Are you fucking kidding me–”
“We keep going, or we die,” Knile said, and with that he took two short steps and bounded across the gap, landing safely on the other side. He turned and held out his hand. “I’ll catch you,” he promised.
Ursie gave him a wilting glare, but Knile brushed it aside. They couldn’t turn around. Not now.
She backed up a few paces and then set herself, taking a deep breath. Then she strode forward, her satchel bouncing in ungainly arcs across her back, and she leapt out toward Knile. She made the jump easily, surprising both of them, overshooting the mark and colliding with his chest and bowling him over.
“Shit,” Knile muttered, picking himself up. He extended his hand down to the girl to help her to her feet. “Take the rocket boosters off your shoes before you jump next time.”
Earthbound (The Reach, Book 1) Page 25
