by Jaspre Bark
A door slid back to reveal an elevator. Roth bowed and motioned for them to enter like some sarcastic bus boy. His manner angered Colt. That was good. Anger made him feel in control, more like his old self.
At the bottom Colt and his men stepped out of the lift to be greeted by more patronising smiles from guys in white coats. Something didn't smell right to Colt. He couldn't put his finger on it but there was something about the place that felt wrong. It wasn't just that they were acting like they were trying to pull a fast one. There was something kind of eerie about the whole facility.
If they thought they were going to get an easy ride siding with him to protect them from the Injuns, they had another think coming. He'd play along for a little while till he got his hands on what he wanted, then he'd set them straight. And he could guarantee they wouldn't like it when he did. They might be scared of the redskins, but they were going to be a lot more frightened of him when he was done.
Roth showed them around the complex. Colt and his men saw the barracks where the guards were housed as well as the scientist's living quarters and recreation areas. Their rather extensive armoury was filled with all sorts of gadgets. By the time Roth showed Colt the kitchens and macrobiotic food vats, Colt was getting bored and ready to wring the podgy goon's neck. "When are you gonna show us what we came here for?" he said.
"Any moment now. But first we have a little surprise for you. Call it a peace offering." They turned a corner and behind an open glass door, lying on stainless steel tables, were the unconscious bodies of five redskins. Colt even recognised a couple of them. The big one was Hiamovi, the UTN's head guy. The Neo-Clergy's biggest enemy.
"Are these for real?" said Colt.
"Why don't you touch them and see?"
Colt and the other three walked into the room.
"That's Tom," said Fitch, pointing at the man sprawled next to Hiamovi. "The Navajo we told you about. Calls himself Ahiga now."
They stood over the bodies and prodded them.
"What's this powder they're covered with?" said Colt rubbing it between his fingers. It smelled musky but it felt squishy when he touched it.
"I'm glad you asked that," Roth said and the glass door slid shut behind them.
"Hey what is this?" shouted Colt.
"It's a trap Mr Colt," said Roth through the intercom. "I would have thought that even your basic intelligence would have grasped that. The powder you mentioned is a genetically amplified pollen. It's derived from a plant similar to the Venus flytrap, but it's effect is over a hundred times more potent. It's what incapacitated the Native Americans in there with you. You only have touch it for it to take effect. Pleasant dreams Mr Colt."
Colt felt a torrent of righteous fury well up inside him, drowning out any compassion that he might have felt before. He went to throw himself at the glass door but his legs wouldn't move. They were numb. He couldn't feel his feet or his fingers. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Golding topple to the floor.
A huge wave of drowsiness overcame him. He heard Simon Peter and Fitch hit the ground. He wanted to fight it but even his massive anger wasn't strong enough to keep him conscious.
Colt fell to the floor.
Cortez's fever broke on the second day of captivity. He was lying on the floor of his holding pen with his knees up in the air. It was too small for him to lie stretched out and it wasn't big enough to be called a cell. The pen felt like somewhere you'd keep an animal.
They'd given Cortez the antidote to the virus soon after he and Greaves had surrendered. He'd taken real sick but when he thought about what happened to the rats he'd probably gotten off lightly. Cortez propped himself up on his elbows and breathed deeply. He stank of sweat but he had that slight euphoria that comes when your body has fought off a serious infection and returns to its old self.
In the distance he could hear the squeak of wheels and the clatter of metal plates. Twice a day someone opened a hatch in the door and stuck a metal bowl of slops through it. The slops were cold and tasted like baby food, although Cortez had been too sick to eat more than a mouthful or two up until now.
He was ravenous, but he suppressed his hunger and listened carefully to the trolley. The last two days had been a haze of fevered sensations but he tried to recollect what he could about the usual routine of mealtimes. The trolley sounded as though it was making more stops than usual. He was also fairly certain it sounded a lot more laden with slop bowls.
Cortez searched his memories for approximate times. Each time the trolley called the bowl was dropped off, then collected ten minutes later. When the hatch in the door was unlocked it fell forward to provide a surface to rest the bowl on. Cortez couldn't remember any other regular visits by anyone else. All this was important to what he was going to do.
As he heard the key turn in the lock of his hatch Cortez put his foot against it to stop it dropping properly. This annoyed the orderly who cursed the stupid mechanism and reached down to try and force it with his hand.
Cortez moved his foot and sprang forward. He grabbed the orderly's wrist and caught the man off balance, pulling him forward with some force. The man's arm came all the way through the hatch and Cortez heard his head smash into the door.
Leaning forward he pulled even harder on the man's arm. There was a louder thump as the man's head collided with the door again. Cortez saw blood trickling down the man's shoulder. He felt for a pulse in the wrist. There was none.
Cortez slowly let go of the arm and pushed it back out of the hatch. Then he peered into the corridor. Cortez could just about manage to reach out of the hatch with his right arm. He pulled the orderly closer and began to feel through his pockets.
There were no keys. He pressed his face up against the opening and peered up and down the corridor. The keys had fallen out of the orderly's hand and landed about two feet away. Too far away to grab. Damn!
Cortez pulled the orderly closer and, using his right hand, he felt for the man's belt. He undid it and tried to flick the belt down the corridor to catch the keys with the buckle. It didn't work. He couldn't see where he was aiming the belt and it wasn't long enough.
Changing tactics, he searched the body again with his right hand, going through all the orderly's pockets. He struck lucky when he came to the man's back pocket. There was a penknife.
Cortez dropped the knife in his lap and reached out of the hatch to feel for the door lock. He was lucky it was only a simple bolt with a padlock on it. As Cortez suspected, this wasn't a proper holding area. It was a place in the complex where they locked up things they were experimenting on.
The bolt was held to the door with four screws. Cortez reached around and began to unscrew them with the penknife. He nearly dislocated his shoulder, but after twenty minutes the first screw came out. Cortez dropped the knife. It hit the ground out of reach. Using the orderly's arm he knocked the knife back into his reach, picked it up and started on the second screw, ignoring the shooting pains in his shoulder.
Onatah was sitting with Huyana and Amitola when the aircraft appeared. One flew north, while the other flew south towards them. They looked like planes but as the southbound one flew low Onatah could see it was too small to be piloted and must be flown by remote control.
About a hundred braves reached for their rifles as it swooped over their heads. Onatah raised her hand to stop them firing. Doors opened in the plane's under carriage and a grey object parachuted down.
Everyone rushed back from the spot where the small square object landed. Onatah walked into the space the warriors had cleared around it. She bent down and picked it up.
"It's a bomb," someone called out.
"Don't touch it!" another cried, "you could set it off."
Onatah smiled. She hadn't seen one of these in years. It was rare to find one that worked. "It's alright," she said to everyone. "It's a laptop." She flipped up the screen. Four green words were flashing in the centre.
PRESS THE SPACE BAR
Huyana and Amitola pe
ered over her shoulder. "What should we do?" said Huyana.
"For the time being," said Onatah. "We play along."
She pressed the space bar.
The screen showed web cam footage of a bald white man in a lab coat. "My name is Sinnot," said the man. "I am in charge of the complex I assume you are trying to conquer."
The camera moved from Sinnot's face to show two unconscious bodies tied and bound to chairs. It was Ahiga and Hiamovi. Three armed men stood behind them. "We have taken your leaders captive. If you try to break into the complex we will not hesitate to kill them. As you are probably aware we have a lot of biological weapons. I'm guessing that's why you're trying to attack us. If your entire army does not vacate this plateau and leave the surrounding area we will unleash them all on you. Do not think you will survive such an onslaught. You have twenty-four hours to comply with our demands. That is all."
The web cam footage came to an end and the screen went blank. Onatah felt sick. This was the last thing she wanted to hear. Their leaders were captured by the men they came to conquer and their enemy was about to attack them.
"What shall we do?" said Huyana. "They've got our chiefs."
"Hush," said Onatah. "Not so loud. We've got to choose our moment to tell this to the troops. We must proceed with caution."
"We've got to get off the plateau," said Amitola. "You heard them. They're going to wage biological warfare on us."
"I don't think so. They're scared of us. That's why they've done this. If they really had those capabilities they'd have used them already. I think they're trying to face us down with a bluff."
"But they have our leaders," said Huyana in a quiet but desperate voice. "You saw the footage. I mean they went into the complex with that scientist, how are we going to handle this?"
"Order most of the troops to fall back to the pass," said Onatah. "I want every scout we have out combing the plateau. Tell them to keep hidden though. We need to find a way into this complex. We also need to find out where the Neo-Clergy are camped."
"Do you think they're already here?" said Amitola.
"Two planes left the complex," said Onatah. "The other headed north. It's a safe bet that it was headed towards the Neo-Clergy army. Tell the scouts to look for their location. Sinnot may even have pulled the same trick on them as well."
"You think they might have Colt and the other Neo-Clergy leaders?" said Amitola.
"It's possible. There's no reason they wouldn't try the same tactic on both sides. If it worked on us, it might have worked on them. In the meantime we need to gather as much intelligence as possible about our enemy and the people holding our leaders. I'm guessing the Neo-Clergy will be doing the same thing so send out patrols to look for their scouts and any spies."
"What do we do about Hiamovi and the others?" said Huyana. "How will we free them?"
"We need to find the weaknesses of the people holding them," said Onatah. "And we must pray to the Great Spirit for their safe return.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The last screw wasn't budging. Cortez felt his shoulder pop. The pain was too great and he couldn't move his fingers. He pulled his arm back through the hatch and clicked his shoulder back into its socket.
He'd have to kick the lock off from inside. One screw wouldn't hold it. He shifted his bulk round in the pen, wadded his coat up against the door to muffle the sound, and rammed his heel into the metal. The bolt was stubborn but it gave on the fourth kick and the door swung open.
Cortez climbed out, stretched his back and dragged the orderly's body into the pen. He picked up the keys and grabbed a couple of bowls off the trolley. His stomach growled in anticipation as he drained both bowls in a couple of gulps.
Looking down the corridor at the pens on either side Cortez could see that at least ten were occupied. They hadn't been when he first arrived. This meant the complex had been forced to adapt its facilities to take prisoners in the last day or so.
It must be under siege. Someone else had found out about the virus. The only other people Greaves had told were the Neo-Clergy soldiers who tortured him. The coward who ran must have got word back to his superiors. This might complicate matters a little. Cortez had to get Greaves and Anna out.
First he walked past each of the doors to the pens and listened to see if he could identify the occupants. He recognised Greaves straight away from the smell. Cortez unlocked the pen and helped him to his feet.
"Good work," Greaves said. "Now we need to get Anna."
"Do you know where she is?"
"They didn't lock her up with us. They took her somewhere else. She's far too valuable to them. They'll want to study her for a while then dissect her most probably."
Cortez unlocked the food hatches on the other pen doors and peered in.
"What are you doing?" said Greaves.
"They have a lot of armed men. We may need to fight our way out and it won't hurt to have a bit of back up."
"Is that a good idea? How do we know we can trust any of them?"
"We have a common enemy. That comes before any other loyalties. They need to get out of here as much as we do."
On the right hand side of the corridor were five Native American prisoners. On the other side were four dressed in Neo-Clergy uniforms. They all looked groggy as though they were just coming round. Cortez unlocked the pens on the right hand wall and helped the prisoners to their feet.
"Who are you?" said the tallest Native American. "Where are you taking us?"
"It's alright, we're prisoners too. We've just escaped." Greaves pointed to the dead orderly in Cortez's pen as proof of this. "My name is Greaves and this is Cortez."
"We need to find our friend and get out of here," said Cortez. "Will you work with us?"
The tall Native American said: "I am Hiamovi, Great Chief of the UTN. I have an army waiting outside. If you can get us out of here, when I take the complex I will guarantee your friend's safe return."
"There isn't time for that," said Greaves. "She's too important and she's in grave danger."
Hiamovi and his comrades bristled at the way Greaves spoke to them. Cortez recognised the response. It was the way all powerful men react when not addressed with enough respect.
"Our friend is the key to getting us all out," said Cortez. "That is why we need to locate her. My friend meant no disrespect."
"We need weapons to fight our way out," said a shorter, stockier Native American, who appeared to be second in command. "Do you know where we can get some?"
"Well now," said a deep, Mid-Western voice from one of the pens. "I believe I can help you there."
Colt had his face pressed up against the hatch. Two men he'd never seen before had let the redskins loose. They were talking about escape and he wanted in.
"See while they put you fellers under they had to distract us," said Colt. "They was so cocksure they actually gave us a tour of the place. I know exactly where we can get all the weapons we need."
"We?" said Hiamovi, looking at Colt. "There is no 'we' here Mr Colt. Why would I release my greatest enemy?"
"Way I see it," said Colt. "You ain't got no choice. The seven of you aren't gonna fight your way outta here with your dicks in your hand. You're gonna need fire-power and you're gonna need more muscle. I can supply you with both."
"Tom?" Fitch called out from a pen next to Colt's. "Hey is that you Tom. C'mon Tom, for old time's sake let us loose."
"You know these men?" said Hiamovi to the brave next to him.
"My name is Ahiga. Be sure and use it."
"Sure To… I mean Ahiga," said Fitch. "Anything you say. Just get us out of these cages. We can help each other, right?"
"Great Chief," said Ahiga to Hiamovi. "This is one of the men I spoke to you about. The ones I used to run with."
"These are your contacts in the Neo-Clergy, the ones you colluded with?"
"These men have been of some service to you. I'm not saying I can vouch for them, but I have worked with them. Maybe they ca
n be of some use."
The sneaky Injun was planning something, Colt could tell.
So could Hiamovi. "We are about to go to war with these people. They have already murdered and enslaved hundreds of our brothers and sisters. Why would I want to set him free to lead his army against ours when I have him safely locked away?"
"Because we've been in this together since day one," said Colt. "We've been working with each other every step of the way. You've needed a bogeyman to scare your people into submission and so have I. We've played that part to perfection for each other. We've been playing the same tune and dancing the same steps, right down the line. You wouldn't have come to power without the threat I pose your people. And hey, I'm a big enough man to admit you've helped put me where I am. Like it or not, we need each other. We're perfect together."
Colt was finally putting his newfound compassion to good use. It wasn't choking him, it was helping get what he wanted, allowing him to feel and think like his enemy, so he could use it to his own benefit. "Now I want to get back to my troops as much as you do. I want to make sure they're safe and ready to fight just like you. The best way for us to do that is to help each other, just like we been doing from the start. Doesn't mean I want to get all lovey-dovey and start burying the hatchet. But we've got a common enemy and that means we've got a common goal. Like they say, 'you keep your friends close but you keep your enemies closer.' Are you sure you want to leave me all the way down here where you've got no idea what I'm up to?"
The big wetback called Cortez pulled the keys out of his pocket. "This is the situation," he said. "I need to free my friend. She holds the key to controlling the Doomsday Virus. She's the only person that does. That's why our common enemy, the scientists, have her. My friend with the glasses here has memorised the blue prints to every floor in the complex…"
"There are nine," said Greaves. "Ten if you count the generator's sub basement."
"Thank you," said Cortez. "There's nearly forty armed men in the place…"
