“You know,” Ms. Dale wheezed, breaking the slow silence that had formed, “I’m pretty sure adrenaline is bad for the bite.”
I shot her a sharp glance and shook my head at her, unable to find the humor in her statement.
“They ripped the ladder right out from under me,” Morgan whispered with a shudder.
“I guess it’s better than thinking to climb up after us,” Ms. Dale muttered dryly.
I sat up and looked around the room. Like the floor below, the airlock doors were open here. Unlike the other floors, the sign on the left door read “Access to Palace” with an arrow on one side. The one on the right said “Access to 1C.” If we wanted to get to Elena, we would go that way, through another section of the artificial Green contained within.
Even if I had actually planned to meet Elena, I wouldn’t set foot in it.
“Do you think Thomas got all the doors open?” Morgan asked, and I felt my heart sink, thinking about what I had seen on the screen earlier. I hadn’t had the heart to bring it up with them yet.
Now, it seemed, was the time, but the words were hard to form.
“Thomas… I-I think we’ve lost him,” I said softly. “I’m not sure how, but he was bleeding from a stomach wound, and from the video Elena showed me… it really didn’t look good.”
At the time, I’d forced myself to be optimistic, trying to believe Viggo and Owen would fix him somehow. But now that I replayed the dire scene in my mind, I found it all but impossible to see how Thomas would get out of this wild place alive. He’d been bleeding so much.
As I spoke the words to Ms. Dale and Morgan, a wave of pain crashed into me hard, making me want to cry. Thomas had been my friend. Weird, yes. Eccentric, yes. But in spite of the cold, analytical façade he wore as an outer shell, Thomas was a deeply caring individual. I couldn’t even comprehend the idea of losing him. It was just… too much.
Ms. Dale closed her eyes, her face sorrowful, and then, even as I watched, she pushed it aside. Morgan, on the other hand, removed the mask and scrubbed at her cheeks as tears fell from her eyes. She let the tears fall, and then donned her mask again, her eyes red.
“We need to move,” she muttered. “Elena will be waiting for us.”
I nodded and picked myself off the floor. There would be time to grieve after. If we survived. I knew what we had to do, and it was time to get started.
“If we follow this tunnel to the palace, can you figure out where the entrance would be for 1C?” I directed the question to Ms. Dale, and she nodded.
“I can.”
“Then let’s go.”
I shouldered my bag and began heading toward the airlock door, toward the cave. Together we moved, keeping a sharp eye out for anything behind us. After we were some distance away, I took the mask off, took a deep breath, and waited for a wave of dizziness to hit me.
It didn’t, and I gave Ms. Dale and Morgan a thumbs up, indicating they could take off their masks. Behind us, I began to hear sounds—chittering… buzzing… hissing… and wondered if the creatures inside were tracking us somehow. We still had our suits, which meant we could, if we wanted to, go invisible and avoid them. Maybe. Without knowing all the creatures that could be behind us, we had no way to tell whether they had other ways to track us besides sight.
I wondered if they could even survive in the oxygen-rich environment, then decided I didn’t care. If they got out and wreaked havoc in the palace, it would only draw attention away from us and maybe give us a fighting chance. We skirted the new cave, the sounds growing distant behind us, and made our way to the walls, searching for the exit.
Morgan found it first—a flat piece of rock with a perfectly rectangular seam carved into it. Kneeling down in front of it, I slid my lock-picking tool out of a pocket on my thigh, and put it in the small hole carved into the middle of the slab, hoping this would work. I hit the button, and the device whirred, but it didn’t even seem to have to work before the door clicked, and the device shut off quickly.
“Huh,” I said. “I guess this one was unlocked too.”
We didn’t have time to dwell on that mystery. The door pressed inward, the gravelly sound of rock scraping on rock filling the room, and then it stopped, an inch deep, no more. I slipped the tool back into my pocket and put my shoulder to the slab.
I pressed with my legs, and the rock began to slide forward, slowly, but easily, rolling in and revealing a hardwood floor. The slab stopped a few feet in, and I stepped around the exposed sides to find myself in… an office. Backing away, I looked at the secret door I had just pushed open, and realized that when the door was closed, it blended in with the wall, a massive floor-to-ceiling mirror mounted on it. On either side of the mirror were bookcases, and on the left side of the room was a desk, two soft chairs in front of it and a massive stuffed chair behind it.
“This was Mr. Jenks’ office,” Morgan said as she stepped out from around the wall, her green eyes growing wide. “It was always such a hike down here from the nursery, and I hated it.”
“The tunnel in the castle that grants entrance to Lab 1C is two hundred feet away to the east,” Ms. Dale said, resting her back against one of the bookcases and wiping some of the sweat off her face. “And the entrance there is two floors up in the castle proper. What would that be?”
Morgan tilted her head, thinking about it for a moment, and then nodded.
“Somewhere in the servants’ quarters,” she announced. “But I’m not exactly sure where. I was never allowed in there.”
“I’ve been there,” Ms. Dale said, pushing off the wall. “I have a rough idea.”
We gathered our stuff as Ms. Dale peered around the door, checking for any signs of guards. Then she pulled it open and stepped out, looking in the opposite direction.
“It’s clear,” she whispered, and her finger flickered to her throat to turn on her subvocalizer.
Shouldering my bag, I followed her lead. We left both doors open as we exited, knowing that eventually, something would find its way out.
I just hoped that whatever it was did it soon, and didn’t kill us in the process.
OceanofPDF.com
37
OceanofPDF.com
VIOLET
Morgan ran through the channels, testing things, and discovered our comms were active again—at least, we could contact each other—as Ms. Dale led us up a set of stairs. She didn’t stop between floors to check the doors, just continued to move with certainty while I called the names of our missing teammates over the link, trying to reach them. Static met my entreaties, and as we neared the third landing, Ms. Dale gave me a look and reached for the collar around her neck.
“We have to change channels,” she said softly but aloud, I assumed so nobody listening in would realize.
I wanted to protest. If we changed channels, Viggo would never find me, not without cycling through all the channels and listening in. But we’d done it this way deliberately—we didn’t want to risk anyone getting captured with knowledge of what comm channels we were on. We all knew the brutal reality of how cruel Elena could be, and even though Tabitha was dead, I didn’t doubt the queen had another sadist squirreled away, intended for a violent purpose. So I just nodded.
“Channel J,” Ms. Dale told me, and I turned the small dial embedded in the collar, counting off the tiny jolts that were transmitted to my neck as I changed the channel.
Seconds later I said, Violet, testing channel J. Confirm?
My mouth moved, no sound coming out, and a moment later, Morgan replied.
Confirmed—Morgan.
Confirmed—Ms. Dale.
Comms all set, Ms. Dale immediately turned toward the handful of steps remaining, climbing them quickly and stopping at the wooden door at the top. More stairs led up, and I recalled that this side of the palace was taller than the rest because the royal quarters were above.
She pushed the door slowly, eyeing the hallway, and then swung it open fully and stepped out onto the hardwoo
d floors, checking the opposite side of the passage. We walked through the door, and Ms. Dale began leading us, checking doors as she passed them. We turned down another series of halls, and I marveled once again at the size and the scope of this palace.
Then I realized the people in here—ordinary people who lived and worked in the palace, most of whom were probably asleep right now, unless the palace had been evacuated—were at great risk from the monsters below, and I felt a wave of guilt. I hoped the wardens would do their job and push whatever we had unleashed back before anyone was fatally injured… but regardless, I had a mission to consider.
It was a hard reality, but one I accepted. I would feel guilt for it later, of that I was certain, but for now, I had to be hard. If we finished things tonight, nobody would have to suffer in this war again.
Where is everyone? Morgan asked suddenly.
It’s the middle of the night, Ms. Dale said. They might have been evacuated, or they’re downstairs dealing with whatever is coming up from the caves. Or they’re asleep.
We turned and headed down a long hall, Ms. Dale’s pace picking up slightly.
We’re getting close, she announced.
And then one of the heavy doors in this passageway creaked open, emitting a bleary-eyed maid carrying a stack of folded sheets before any of us could even think to use our suits. The woman came to an abrupt stop, her eyes trained on us. Ms. Dale lunged for her, but she tossed the sheets up with a shriek and began to run.
“HELP!” she screamed.
The next moment, two wardens appeared ahead, and I dodged down the hallway to the right, Morgan following suit, while Ms. Dale went left.
“It’s on this side,” she shouted to us. “I’ll give you covering fire… one at a time.”
I nodded and rose to a crouch, facing Ms. Dale. She nodded too and then turned down the hall, using the corner as cover and firing at the two guards. I ran, and gunfire erupted loudly down the hall, drowning out the relative quiet. I made it safely across—they were aiming at Ms. Dale, who ducked back, ejecting a magazine and pulling out a new one. Her hand shook, the swelling having reached the palm, but somehow she managed.
Morgan caught my eye, and I watched as she backed up a few steps and then raced for us, her legs blurred. She dove, arching her back like a swan taking flight, and then curling seamlessly into a roll as she landed on our side, propelling herself right back onto her feet.
There was a delayed burst of gunfire, and then Ms. Dale tugged a grenade off her belt, pulled the pin out with her teeth, and tossed the thing haphazardly down the hallway.
I was already moving with Morgan down the hallway, Ms. Dale close behind me. We were about ten or fifteen feet along it when the grenade went off. The floorboards shuddered underfoot, and a blast of heat tore down the hallway, dissipating only slightly before it reached us—small patches of fire burning behind us and a haze of smoke surrounding us. Morgan led the way through it, her gun drawn and her eyes wary.
Well, they definitely know we’re here now, Ms. Dale transmitted. They’ll be coming.
Are we close?
Ms. Dale hesitated.
I’m not entirely sure. Two hundred feet is hard to gauge. We’re in the right—
A burst of gunfire sounded from behind us, and Ms. Dale grunted and fell forward into me, dragging me down. Morgan stepped to one side, her body reacting before she could stop, and her arm went up, firing two silenced rounds behind us. I heard a thud as a body hit the ground, and looked to see a woman down, another woman ducking back around the corner. I fired a few shots at the wall near her, keeping her back.
Ms. Dale cursed a long string of obscenities into the comms, and I turned to see her on her side, her hand on her lower back just below the bulge of her vest. Blood streamed steadily from between her fingers.
Help me move her, I shouted to Morgan, and together, we dragged her into a side room that turned out to be a cupboard of some sort, Morgan keeping her gun trained down the hall.
We can’t stop for first aid, Ms. Dale gasped. Just pick me up—they’re going to be closing in.
Let me get a pressure bandage on it at least, I urged, pulling my bag around. I froze, forcing myself to stop what I was doing, when I heard shouting carrying down the halls. It was muted by distance, but not by much. Morgan was already picking Ms. Dale up, throwing her arm around her shoulders. Coming around to her other side, I took her other arm and wrapped it around my neck before placing my hand over her wound.
She gasped, and then gave me a nod.
Let’s go, she said, her face strained and tight with pain.
I moved back to the door and pushed it open with my toe, my gun in the hand supporting Ms. Dale, trying to ignore the sensation of blood creeping under the fingers of the other one. Ms. Dale moved forward, but there was a hitch on the side the bullet had gone in, her leg moving awkwardly, and with her head so close to mine, I could hear how strained her breathing had become. Morgan and I held a portion of her weight as she struggled to keep up.
We turned down a long hallway just as the sound of running feet drifted toward us from up ahead, and the three of us took an immediate right, trying to bypass the guards. We had passed through a kitchen and into a dining hall when Ms. Dale sagged in our arms, her breathing coming in sharp pants.
Set me down, she managed, and Morgan and I carefully positioned her on a bench. She sagged against it, listing to one side, and I noted the paleness of her face.
Adrenaline patch, she said. Two blood patches and a pressure bandage.
I quickly retrieved my first-aid kit and began doctoring her, applying the blood patches first and then the pressure bandage. Morgan moved over to the door behind us, checking the hallway.
We got a problem, Violet, she transmitted.
My hands were shaking. I tore off another strip of tape with my teeth and placed it over the cotton I had put over the wound.
What? I asked.
Guards are in the hallways on either side of us, she said. They’re checking rooms… It’s just a matter of time.
We’ll use the suits, I said.
You’ll use the suits, Ms. Dale corrected, her hands pushing mine away as she sat back up. Color was slowly returning to her cheeks, but not enough to indicate she was out of the woods. Then again, until she saw a doctor, I didn’t think she was going to be out of the woods.
She pushed off the bench, forcing herself onto her own two feet and hissing in pain.
Take a cube of the semtex and a detonator out of my bag, she ordered, and Morgan immediately stepped around her to get into her bag.
What are you planning? I asked, now picking up on the sounds of doors being opened and closed near us.
I’m going to be a distraction, she said, swinging around her rifle and checking the magazine. You two are going to get to Elena.
What? No—they’ll kill you.
They better hope they do, she said, a wicked gleam in her eyes. Because I’m going to kill them.
Ms. Dale, just use the suit, and they’ll—
She can’t, Morgan said, cutting off my words. I looked at her, and her face was apologetic. The gunshot probably damaged the suit. There’s a chance it’ll injure her, or worse.
Violet, Ms. Dale said, stepping over the tail of Morgan’s words, and I looked at her. She lowered the rifle onto its strap, and reached over to cup my face, hers softening again.
This is what has to happen. I’m slowing you down, and I’m a liability. But this? I can do this for you. I can buy you a chance. Elena’s probably moving now. If you can intercept her, follow her… you stand a chance. She’ll try to run—if she does, get to the roof.
There was a loud bang from very near the doors, and I knew the kitchen was next—then us. Unless the ones in the other hallway got to the other doors first.
Ms. Dale speared me with an intense look, then smiled, looking unconcerned.
This is karma, Violet. I did something… something unforgivable to you, and now I can
finally repay that debt I owe you. When you’re ready… when you think you can forgive me… ask Viggo, and he’ll tell you everything. I love you, brave girl.
Her words were like stones in my heart, sinking to my shoes and holding me in place. I watched as she hobbled over to the door, somehow moving quickly in spite of the pain she must be experiencing. She kicked open the door we had just come through and tossed out a grenade. There was a bright flash and a loud bang, indicating she had used a concussive one, and then she stepped through, her rifle firing wildly.
Wait! I cried out, knowing she heard my words through our comms. I love you too! Please don’t—
The suit, Violet! Morgan interrupted, and I looked to see Morgan’s body already shimmering out of existence—I was still too stunned by what I was witnessing to really comprehend it. It was unfurling before me in real time, Ms. Dale’s mouth opening in a shout as she fired down the hallway, the door swinging closed. Morgan’s invisible hands shook me hard, and then struck me across my face, and I jolted back into myself.
I stared at the empty air where she should be for a moment, and then dropped my bag on the floor, clenching my muscles and letting the discomfort of the suit sink into my skin, drawing strength from its pins and needles. It did nothing to match the ache in my heart as the door between me and Ms. Dale slammed shut, her shots moving away and becoming more muted.
We’d only moved a couple steps before the doors to the opposite side burst open, and six wardens raced across it. Ms. Dale’s bursts of gunfire continued down the hallway across the room from them, and they didn’t do anything more than glance right through us and then move through the doors, chasing her.
I relaxed my muscles, and a moment later, Morgan did as well, reaching over to grab my bag and hold it up to me.
I’m sorry I hit you, she said softly, and I took the bag into my numb hands, trying to think of something to say. I slipped it back on, and she reached out and grabbed my wrist.
Violet, we have to complete the mission, she said evenly, her eyes placating.
The Gender End Page 35
