“Jack, this isn’t the time,” Maria said. “We need to leave.” She looked at Reynolds, then spit on the glass. “Puta tu’ madre, bendaho.”
Pressing the button again, Jack added, “I hope you rot in this tomb,” then backed away from the device. Needing some kind of satisfaction, he did the only thing he could think of, pointed the Desert Eagle at the intercom, and blew it to pieces.
“Come on, Jack,” Zaun said, putting a hand on Jack’s shoulder.
“Yeah, we need to leave,” Maria said, her voice cracking.
Jack turned to face Kevin’s corpse. “Not sure how those little fuckers work on an already dead body, but—” he pulled out the Sig, not wanting to obliterate the kid’s head with the magnum, and fired twice, leaving two small black holes in Kevin’s head. “Now we can leave.”
At the exit, Jack asked if there was any way to know if someone was waiting on the other side of the door.
Maria shrugged. “Maybe from one of the offices. I’m sure they monitor the door at times, or at least have a camera there.” She left, entering the closest office, while Jack and Zaun kept an eye on the hallway.
Emerging a moment later, she said, “All clear, but that could change. Camera’s only good for right outside the door.”
Jack slid the card through the reader and watched the green LED come to life. The door clicked and soon the group found themselves standing outside of C-wing. Before closing the door, Jack blew apart the card reader on the inside, then did the same for the reader on the outside.
“That should hopefully prevent Reynolds from leaving, at least without help from the outside.”
They made it to his office. Jack, last in line, was about to enter when he saw a group of guards coming down the hall. They raised their weapons and opened fire, just missing him as he dove inside. Tiny explosions riddled the doorframe as a barrage of bullets bit into the wood, sending splinters everywhere.
Maria ran to the door and returned fire. “Zaun, get over here. Get another gun ready and hand it to me when I tell you to.”
Jack got to his feet and surveyed the room. Not seeing an escape hatch, he hurried over to a bookcase and swung the thing open, knocking a row of books down. A door similar to C-wing’s stood before him, only this one had a keypad attached to it. He hoped it was to use in the event Reynolds’ keycard was lost or broken and not an added security feature.
Gunfire exploded from behind. Jack turned to see Maria firing down the hall, Zaun kneeling next to her, holding an M4.
Jack slid the keycard through the reader and heard a beep, the red LED remaining on. The keypad illuminated, indicating Jack was to punch in numbers. He closed his eyes. The fucking door needed a code.
Chapter 19
“There’s a keypad lock on the door,” Jack yelled to the others, over the sound of gunfire.
“Well, you better figure it out,” Maria shouted back, firing off a three round burst. She exchanged weapons with Zaun, who speedily loaded a fresh magazine into the gun he was handed.
“I was hoping you could help with that,” Jack said.
“Me? You forget who you’re talking to? I’m as low on the totem pole as it gets around here.”
“What’s Reynolds’ birthday?”
Another three round burst.
Maria shook her head. “No idea.”
“Are you nuts?” Zaun asked Jack. “You think that old trick will work?”
“Go check his desk; his computer,” Maria suggested, firing off another burst. “Maybe he wrote it down somewhere.”
Jack doubted it, but went around to Reynolds’ mahogany desk anyway. The computer was on, but Jack didn’t think the code would be on it. He started pulling out drawers, rifling through them, finding numerous papers, a letter opener, tacks, scissors, but no code. When he was done, papers lay everywhere and the drawers rested on the floor.
Frustrated, Jack kicked one of the drawers, sending it into the wall.
It was over. They were screwed. He picked up the leather-backed chair and tossed it over the desk.
“I take it you didn’t find the code?” Zaun said.
Jack was tired. He needed to sit. Taking a step back, he collided with the wall, then slid down it to the floor. His body felt heavy. So, so heavy. It was difficult holding his head up. He’d put all their lives at risk. It was his idea to go ahead and try to escape. He was the leader, whether they liked it or not. Kevin was dead, and soon they would be too, but not before the bots ate them up, draining their bodies of everything.
Reynolds had won.
Jack’s sadness turned to anger. Grinding his teeth, he said, “No,” then pounded on the floor with his hands. Standing up, he looked around. He didn’t know what to do. Without the code, it was only a matter of time before they were overtaken, captured, or killed.
“They’re getting closer, Jack,” Maria yelled.
The room went red.
He stood, grabbed the desk and heaved it onto its front, grunting as he did so. Looking at the desk, he saw a small white rectangle attached to the underside of one of the drawer slots. He grabbed the object. It was a keycard. A backup master? Turning the card over, he almost shouted with glee. Four numbers, written in black magic marker stared back at him.
With card in hand, Jack bolted back to the escape hatch and using a shaky finger, punched in the numbers. After the last key was pressed, the red light went off, the green one came on, and the door clicked open. Grabbing the handle, Jack pulled and opened the door.
Damp, cool air, swept over him, supplying a welcomed chill. He turned around and yelled to Zaun and Maria. She fired a few more bursts before the two of them ran over to him. As they stepped inside the tunnel, Jack saw armed men enter the office. He shoved his friends out of the way and slammed the door closed.
“We made it,” Zaun said, looking relieved. He patted Jack on the back.
“How did you get the code?” Maria asked.
Jack showed them the card, explaining how he found it taped to the top of one of the drawer slots.
“Simply amazing,” Maria said.
Dim, overhead LED lights, spaced about ten feet apart, lighted the tunnel. The walls were bedrock, jagged, and cool to touch. Steel support beams, like a ribcage, supported the tunnel. Jack felt like he was entering a coal mine.
Compared to where they had been, the silence was now deafening. Not a thing could be heard on the other side.
“Damn, I guess we’re a bunch of lucky bastards,” Zaun said.
Maria was on the floor, reloading the M4’s. “Well if we want to keep being lucky we better move.”
“I thought we were safe now?” Zaun asked. “There’s no way they’re getting through that door.”
“That may be, but I don’t want to wait around and find out,” Maria said, standing and handing Zaun his weapon. “Reynolds isn’t dead, remember. He’ll know a way.”
“She’s right,” Jack agreed. “No telling if they have other keycards or another way of getting to us.”
They worked their way down the tunnel. Jack figured they had a few miles before they reached the exit. Where exactly did the tunnel lead? Would there be hostiles waiting for them? Maybe Reynolds had radioed ahead and now a team of armed soldiers was coming their way. He brought it up to Maria, who had no idea, but agreed anything was possible.
As far as where the tunnel ended, Jack figured it to be somewhere on the mainland, but then thinking about it, that meant the tunnel had to go on for some length. The tunnel must lead to somewhere closer, like Queens or Brooklyn, neither a part of Manhattan, but both a part of Long Island. They would need to cross a bridge to get to the mainland. As long as they didn’t end up in some military facility, or heavily armed building, they’d be fine.
Once they were topside again, they could go to the proper authorities—even the news—and have Maria confirm Jack’s and Zaun’s story. They’d have to act fast, because whoever was funding the bot program would want it kept secret and would come afte
r them.
About thirty minutes into the trek, the group came upon a cutout in the rock where four wide lockers rested, one having a Red Cross symbol on it. With none of the lockers having locks on them, Jack opened the first one and found stacks of MRE’s inside. He hadn’t realized it, but he was starving. It was late and he was running on fumes. He didn’t think it was a good idea to stop, wanting to put as much distance between himself and his pursuers as possible, but he needed nourishment, and guessed the others did too.
Jack opened the next locker and found bottles of water wrapped in plastic, just like in a supermarket.
“Emergency food store,” Maria said, “in the event that people get stuck down here.”
Jack ripped open one of the packs of water and passed a bottle to her and one to Zaun. Taking one himself, he guzzled the entire contents.
“What’s in door number three?” Zaun asked.
Jack opened the next locker and found four M4’s. Eight magazines rested on shelves. Picking one up, he felt its heaviness, knowing it was loaded to capacity.
“Guess our ammo problem is solved,” he said.
“Good,” Maria said, “we used quite a bit holding off the guards.”
Jack handed the magazines to Maria and Zaun, keeping a couple for himself, then closed the door, leaving the guns. Without ammo, they were useless and they had plenty of their own weapons.
Maria began preparing a few MRE’s, opening the meals, adding water and letting them cook.
The remaining locker, Jack assumed was stocked with medical supplies. Opening it, he found bandages, wraps, ointments, sprays, splints, tourniquets, and a clear case containing four needles, each needle filled with an orange fluid. He showed them to Maria who, if she had to guess, said they were probably adrenaline shots.
“Food’s ready,” she announced.
They ate quickly and were soon on the move again, taking bandages, ointments, and the box of needles.
Ten minutes later, they came to a split in the tunnel.
“Which way?” Zaun asked.
“No idea,” Jack said, softly.
This was definitely not something he had counted on. Why two tunnels? Was one a dead end? Built to confuse any escaping party? No, that didn’t seem right. If the tunnel went under the Hudson River, it had to lead to Brooklyn or Queens, the two boroughs directly across the way from Manhattan. Maybe a tunnel went to each, but that didn’t make sense. One must go to Brooklyn or Queens, the other to the mainland, the Bronx being the closest. He didn’t want to be in the tunnel any longer than necessary, so heading to Brooklyn or Queens, most likely the passageway on the right, would get them above ground much faster than walking all the way to the Bronx, or wherever the tunnel led.
“I say we go right,” he said, explaining his thinking, and the others agreed. No one wanted to be underground any longer than need be.
They trekked onward for what seemed like an hour. Jack was beginning to think he’d made a mistake and was about to speak up when they came around a bend and saw an identical door to the one in Reynolds’ office.
“We made it,” Zaun said.
“We don’t know what’s on the other side,” Jack warned. “So be ready and careful.”
Jack was about to swipe the keycard when a blast of gunfire erupted from behind. Sparks flew as bullets pinged off the wall. Maria let out a groan before ducking into a small crevice. Zaun and Jack flattened themselves against the opposite wall.
“Hold them off until I get the door open,” Jack said.
Maria began firing back, Zaun doing the same.
Jack went to swipe the card and in his haste, missed the reader completely. Trying a second time, moving a tad slower, he swiped the card, then entered the code on the keypad. The green LED came on and he yanked the door open.
“Let’s go,” he yelled, producing his .45 and firing down the tunnel, giving the others cover. Zaun backpedaled towards the door until he was inside. Jack watched as Maria pulled a flashbang from her belt and tossed it down the hall. He covered his ears, seeing Maria do the same. After the grenade went off, Jack moved aside, letting Maria exit the tunnel before he slammed the door shut.
They were in a small room with cinder block walls and a single overhead fluorescent light. Elevator doors stood to the left and a set of steel stairs took up the back wall.
“They must have a key,” Maria said, out of breath.
“Or blew it open,” Zaun suggested.
Either way, Jack thought, they had company. He went over to Maria and checked on her. “You okay?”
She looked at her arm; the jacket sleeve was torn and bloodied. Removing her jacket, face grimacing, Jack saw a gash on her upper arm.
“You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine.”
“We should clean it; make sure.”
“No time. It’s just a graze; painful but I’ll still be able to use the arm.” Maria slipped her jacket back on.
They took the stairs up five flights before coming to a landing with another security door, keypad and all. Jack slid the card and punched in the code. When the green light came on, he paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Ready?”
The others nodded.
Anything could be on the other side. They were getting closer to the surface, were probably there already.
With the .45 in hand, Jack grabbed the handle and pulled the door open.
Chapter 20
A long cinder block corridor, extending into the gloom stood before Jack. A body, dressed in camouflage-patterned fatigues, lay a few feet away. Blood was pooled around the body, light from the room shining brilliantly off it. There was no way the person was alive, not with the amount of blood surrounding it. The coppery odor of death filled the air, causing Jack to turn away for a moment.
Pulling out his flashlight, he scanned the immediate area. The olive green walls were layered with old blood, the colors various shades of reddish-brown, like rust spots on an old car. Only in a few places were there fresh streaks of glistening red. The man on the floor had died recently; some time in the last twenty-four hours, Jack guessed.
He stepped from the doorway, shining the light over the body. Bullet holes, for what else could they be, littered the corpse’s back and head. Shit, this wasn’t good. What the hell was going on? Maybe word about the bunker had gotten out and the dead man that lay before Jack had tried to help? Unlikely, but looking at the walls—the splattered old blood—he knew people had died here before. Some kind of kill zone? Execution area? He shook his head. None of this made sense.
“What the hell?” Zaun said, stepping up to the doorway.
“Ay Dios Mio,” Maria said, shoving between Jack and Zaun. “This can’t be good.”
“We need to keep moving,” Jack said, “no telling when the others will be on us.” He wanted nothing more than to sprint down the hall and find the busy streets of Brooklyn or Queens. He had always hated the noise, loving the quietness of his apartment, but now he longed to hear it.
Jack took the lead, stepped onto the corpse’s back, avoiding the blood-pool surrounding the body. The cadaver hissed and farted, Jack’s weight forcing out the trapped air.
The group remained quiet, listening for any sound that they might be walking into a trap. The sharp, coppery aroma lessened the farther they got from the body.
Jack wanted the Mossberg in his hands, but needed to hold the flashlight as he led the way. Up ahead, he saw an open doorway on the right. The group approached carefully, inching along the wall. Jack flashed the light inside the room for a second before pulling his hand back. Not receiving any gunfire, he nodded to the others and peeked into the room.
The place was filled with old televisions, furniture, lamps, a rug, dusty art work, and rats, their beady eyes glowing eerily back at him.
“I hate those fucking things,” Zaun said, standing beside Jack.
Moving on, the corridor led to another door, but this one appeared to be made of wood. The entire handle part o
f the door was missing, looking blown off. Squatting, Jack shone the light through the hole.
“Another room,” he said. “Looks empty.” Standing back up, he pushed the door open, the hinges squealing like frightened pigs.
Finding a light switch next to the door, Jack flicked it up and the overhead lights came to life. Another dead body lay against the left wall, slumped over with a large, gaping hole in the side of its head. All around, the walls were caked with old blood as if a bomb had gone off, or a grenade. An elevator stood to the right and a set of stairs leading up, stood off to the back left.
The corpse’s leg twitched. Jack raised his weapon and fired at the thing’s head, but the leg kept moving.
“What the . . . ?” Zaun began. “Thing should be dead.” He fired two bursts at the thing’s head, obliterating it.
“Wait,” Maria said, as a small rodent head came from a hole in the corpse’s leg.
“Fucking rat!” Zaun yelled. “Damn thing almost gave me a heart attack.”
“All right. Leave it. We need to save ammo,” Jack said.
They were definitely in the basement of a building.
“Guess we go up,” Maria suggested.
The stairs led to another security door. Jack opened it quickly and looked out into a high-ceiling, hangar-like room. The large overhead lights were on, but the place appeared vacant, as if it had emptied out a while ago. Computer stations, desks with chairs, some overturned, took up most of the floor space. Sheets of paper were strewn around the floor and garbage pails were overflowing. Multiple coffee cups littered the desks and floor.
Jack saw a few dead bodies laying about, appearing to have been gunned down, the closest crumbled up against the wall, facing away.
They were outside Manhattan—had to be, yet something bad had happened here. Jack had thought Reynolds’ superiors would be in Washington, and maybe they were, but he was clearly in the bunker’s most immediate outside-operations center.
“This isn’t good,” Maria said.
Machines of the Dead Page 12
