“Gah!” Kevin slid to his right, crashing shoulder first into the partition behind the kid.
Aura rocked forward into the seatbelt while making a noise like a kicked chicken.
“Whoa!” Jordan caught himself on a padded pole between the benches. “Easy.”
“Ow,” whined Aura.
“Open the fucking gate,” yelled Tris.
Doctor Jameson shook his virtual head. “The drone did not drop its payload. I have control of its flight systems. It is currently en route back here for disposal.”
Amid all the chaos raging outside, Tris sat for a moment in what appeared to be meditative calm. When she spoke, a hoarse whisper came from her lips. “How close was it?”
“I overrode its flight controls at 848 yards from the first drop location. The drone suffered a handful of bullet strikes, but no critical systems appear to be damaged.”
She shivered.
Kevin closed his eyes. Please don’t let Abby have seen it.
“The flight program was not official,” said Doctor Jameson.
“Nathan,” growled Tris. She snapped her head around, fixing Kevin with a stare. “I’m not leaving here until I find that son of a bitch.”
The van picked up speed again and swerved to avoid a frightened little boy standing disoriented in the middle of the road. Tris yelled and spun around to grab the stick, but the van ignored her.
“It’s me,” said Doctor Jameson. “You have no time to spare. The remaining quantities of Agent-94 must be routed to the incinerator before military forces loyal to the Council secure the facility. I have disabled all vehicles and drones, including armed military craft. You, and only you, can re-enable them individually or all at once from the central command system.”
“Well, that’s good,” said Kevin. “We won’t have to dodge Hoplites lobbing grenades at us on the way out.”
“It also means they won’t try to kill her if they know that,” said Jordan.
With the van driving itself, Tris faced the back and massaged her sinuses. “So why’d you trust this guy?”
Kevin smiled. “Mostly because he dropped his weapon. From what I’ve seen of these psychos so far, he would’ve gambled on reflex boosters and nanites to beat you if he didn’t believe us.”
Jordan chuckled. “I always did kinda wonder about that waste treatment building. Never made sense to me why it needed ISF on site. Shit doesn’t need a guard.”
“Maybe it’s top secret shit,” said Kevin.
Aura giggled.
“The Protocol is nearing completion. The deep-stasis pods have started release processing.” Doctor Jameson smiled. “All you need to do from here is switch the manual valves to reroute the fluid to the incinerator vessel instead of the encapsulation path. The ordinance already loaded into capsules in the drone facility, I was able to redirect via software into a burner.”
“How much are we talking about?” asked Kevin. “Uhh, left to burn I mean.”
“Four tanks. About 160 gallons.”
Tris blinked. “Damn…”
The van swerved through a hard right turn, throwing Kevin onto his feet. He got his arms up in time to catch himself against the wall next to Jordan. Once it straightened out, he returned to his bench, but grabbed on to the padded bar.
Gunfire snapped and popped in the distance, making Aura shiver. “Why are they shooting?”
“People hate change,” said Tris. “Change is scary.”
“We’re here,” said Doctor Jameson, as the van halted by the front doors of a one-story warehouse-style building. Unlike much of the Quar, it had black walls. “I’m sending you a waypoint now over the Exa.”
“You can drive this thing, right?” Tris gave the display screen the side-eye. “Can you find Aura’s family and take her to them?”
“I’m showing them all at their assigned residence. Cats included,” said Doctor Jameson. “Yes. I can drive her home.”
Tris stood and bowed over the girl. “I’m sorry for getting you hurt. I put you in danger and that’s inexcusable.”
“I, umm… You didn’t lie. You’re letting me go and you’re trying to stop them from freezing me, so I guess I might forgive you even if you did scare me to death.” She looked at Kevin. “Thanks for saving me from that bullet. Sorry you got shot.”
“Not your fault.” Kevin winked. “You didn’t kick the gun.”
Doctor Jameson cleared his throat.
Tris put a hand on Aura’s cheek. “Help me make the world better. Keep your head down.”
“Okay.”
The side door whirred open. Kevin jumped out. A short asphalt walkway connected the street to a set of glass double doors. Four figures in the thicker military-style armor stood behind a silver metal barricade close to the building, with a gap for the walkway. Jordan hopped out behind him, followed by Tris.
“Wanna try and play this cool?” asked Jordan. “None of these guys know you from the next guy. Act like ISF.”
“Worth a shot.” Kevin nodded.
The van hatch closed and it drove off, e-motors whining.
Jordan led the way, with Kevin and Tris abreast behind him. The soldiers’ smooth black facemasks glinted in the sun.
“Halt,” said a man’s voice past the crackle of an electric amplifier. “This is a restricted area under military jurisdiction. You boys don’t need to be here.”
“Guess you missed that last comm,” said Jordan. “We’re supposed to relieve you. All military forces are being recalled to the council chambers.”
“I never heard that,” replied the soldier.
The four armored figures all tilted their heads in unison as if listening to something.
“Uhh, yes sir,” said the soldier who’d been speaking. His helmet turned toward Jordan. “Sorry. Looks like you were right.”
Jordan walked around the barricade and took a stance as if about to stand guard duty. Why not? Kevin did the same on the other side. He couldn’t look at Tris overacting ‘serious face’ without bursting into laughter, so he thought about Abby, and how bad he felt leaving her behind. That kept his expression grim.
The soldiers hustled off to the right and vanished around the corner of the warehouse.
“You got some serious skills, girl,” said Jordan.
“What do you mean?” Tris blinked at him.
He chuckled. “I don’t know you got Director Kuroyama to come over the comm right at that second and order those four guys in particular to the Council Chamber.”
Tris peeked at the ammo counter on her rifle. “That had to be Dad. He’s probably listening to and watching us through your communicator.”
Jordan patted a small bulge in the left shoulder of his armor. “Well, Pops. Thanks.”
Kevin leaned forward over the barrier to stare at the corner where the soldiers went. “Think we’re clear by now?”
“We’re in a hurry.” Tris headed for the door.
“Guess that means yes.” Jordan chuckled.
Kevin jogged after Tris. Two more soldiers in a small lobby rose from behind a desk and started to raise rifles.
“Don’t,” yelled Tris, aiming at them. “Stand down.”
“ISF personnel aren’t authorized to be in here,” said a thirtyish woman on the left.
“This building contains a biological weapon that’s in violation of every scrap of human decency imaginable. I’m going to give you five seconds to decide if you want to throw your lot in with the Council and be responsible for the deaths of hundreds of thousands of innocent people, or if you’re still a goddamned human being.” She moved her finger onto the trigger. “Don’t think I won’t kill you. I have no patience for the kind of monsters that could set the Infected loose on the world.”
Kevin raised his handgun at the woman and nodded toward Tris. “Yeah. What she said.”
“You saw the video feed.” Jordan advanced, his rifle held sideways across his chest. “I saw the pods in person. They really do have all those people froz
en. It isn’t much of a stretch to wonder what the hell else they’ve lied about.”
“Get out of our way or go for that gun. Either way, do it now.” Tris edged closer.
“Before you worry about treason,” said Jordan. “I got this feeling that the Council ain’t long for this world. Couple thousand frozen people are gonna be pretty pissed off, and unless they turn you lot against our own people…”
“You know how touchy they are about murder.” Tris advanced right up to the counter. “It took them generations to build up that many people. I hope they don’t covet their power so much that they waste it all and start over.”
“And I really don’t want to have to shoot a lady.” Kevin smiled.
“What now, then?” asked the man.
Tris moved around the side of the desk, keeping her rifle trained on him. Sweat gleamed on her forehead as she neared an overhead light. “Leave your weapons behind and go outside. My only objective here is to disable the bio weapon. There is no reason for its existence other than mass murder.”
“Okay, fine.” The man leaned to the side, putting his rifle down on the desk. His arm blurred into a sideswipe that swatted Tris’ weapon away.
Two gunshots went off at the same instant Kevin fired at the woman. Hoping for a peaceful resolution, he’d had the Enclave pistol pointed at her armored chest rather than her open face. He fired four shots faster than expected, not used to an electric trigger. The handgun kicked like a magnum despite its somewhat unimpressive sound.
Tris screamed. Muzzle flare bloomed from Jordan’s rifle. Tris, and both soldiers, hit the ground. The female soldier writhed like a landed fish, gawping for breath. Tris rolled on her side clutching her breast. The male soldier remained flat on his chest, not moving.
Kevin fast walked over to the woman, keeping the gun pointed at her. All traces of hardened soldier left her expression; she stared up at him pleading. Four slugs stuck in her chestplate like darts, the 4mm penetrators not the least bit deformed. If the ache in his hand meant anything, she probably felt like she’d been hit with a sledgehammer by a 400-pound gorilla four times.
“Tris you okay?” yelled Kevin.
“No, ass!” she yelled. “He shot me through the tit. I’ll… it’s closing.”
Jordan leaned up and over the counter. “Sorry man.” He shot the soldier in the back once more. “Well I guess I’m officially in the Resistance now.”
“Is that why you just stood there during that little brawl before?” asked Kevin.
“Sort of. Been thinking about things, ya know? Some stuff didn’t make sense. Not enough doubt to do much but doubt.” Jordan looked at the woman. “She go for a weapon?”
“Uhh, no.” Kevin flashed a sheepish smile. “All that blurry, too-fast-to-see shit. Didn’t wanna take the chance.” He pocketed the pistol and took the rifle from the desk. “Guess these can penetrate armor.”
“Yeah. Need a dead-on angle though. More than eight degrees of deflection, and they’ll glance.”
Kevin rushed to Tris and helped her sit up. The bloody hand she pulled away from her chest filled him with panic.
Metal slammed against concrete to the left. Jordan sprang in a blur, body-checking Kevin over the counter. Gunfire rippled from the direction of the door. Kevin flipped over in midair and landed on his back between the wheezing woman and the dead man. Three more soldiers fired into the room from a set of double doors in the middle of the wall.
The figure in the middle staggered backward, thin gouts of blood sprayed out of his torso as bullets riddled him. Kevin fired from the ground at the one on the right side, peering through an ACOG sight sideways. As fast as he could click the pushbutton trigger, he offloaded somewhere between eight and fifteen bullets before the man fell over.
Tris went from fetal to poised on one knee and shooting in an instant. A few sparks danced off the third man’s helmet. His arms flashed from pointed at Jordan to pointed at Tris. Two sluices of blood trailed out of the back of his head at the same time a long splatter of red painted the floor under Tris’ left leg. Something hit Kevin in the belly, making him see stars.
She shrieked in agony; the soldier fell over dead.
Kevin pushed himself up kneeling and shot the man twice more before turning to her. “Tris!”
“Argh!” She dragged herself toward him. “Hurts so much. Fuck.”
He helped her sit up. “I don’t think we have time for that now.”
“You asshole.” She rested her head against his side, and laughed.
“Yo, Jordan?” yelled Kevin. “You still with us?” He coughed and checked his gut, only a scuff on the armor. No hole. That’s gonna bruise.
A weak moan emanated from the other side of the desk.
Kevin cringed. “I think he said, ‘oh shit, this hurts like a motherfucker.”
Another moan, less weak, emanated from beyond the desk.
“Yeah,” said Kevin. “That’s exactly what he said.”
Tris clutched her thigh, trying to stem the geyser of blood bubbling out of it. Kevin put his hand on hers and pressed down. He peered back at the female soldier, who appeared to have passed out.
“Shit.” Jordan wheezed. “I’m gonna be okay, but not for a while.”
Kevin kept pressure on Tris’ leg. She bit his shoulder and screamed, every muscle in her body tense and locked.
“Pins and needles?” asked Kevin.
She nodded.
About fifteen seconds later, she went limp and gasped for breath. “I’m… good.”
He pulled her up and set her in the chair before walking around the desk. Jordan lay on his back, rifle across his chest, staring at the ceiling with an expression that made Kevin imagine the Challenger’s primary battery hooked up to testicle electrodes.
“Whoa.” Kevin took a knee at his side. “How bad is it?”
Jordan coughed up blood. “Hip’s disintegrated. Left femur smashed. Think both lungs are pierced, and my right clavicle has seen better days. I don’t know how the hell they missed my face or heart, but I guess the man upstairs is on your side too.”
Why do people always credit mythology for good luck? Kevin smiled. “That’s gotta tingle like a bastard.”
Jordan gave him a ‘you have no damn idea’ look.
“Anything I can do?”
“Got about five steaks on you?” He chuckled into a coughing fit. Dark crimson blood streamed over porcelain cheeks. “I’ll catch up. Maybe ten minutes. If I try to move, it’ll only take longer.”
Tris stood and walked around in a small circle for a few seconds, her left leg rigid as a stick. “Come on.” She pulled out of the circle and headed for the door from where the soldiers entered.
“Thanks, man.” Kevin squeezed his hand. “You saved my ass.”
Jordan grinned; blood leaked between his teeth. “You need to get some nanites while you’re here.”
“Yeah, I hear that.” Kevin patted Jordan’s shoulder and stood. “Cover the door.”
“Gotcha.” He grunted and shifted the rifle to point at the entrance.
Kevin ran after Tris, following a drab grey corridor. Plain metal doors every fifty yards or so bore only numbers. She’d almost gotten back to a normal walking gait, but still favored her left leg. He slowed to a brisk walk at her side.
“Too close to stop.” She pointed at a door up ahead on the right, a long ways down a blinding hospital-clean corridor. “Almost there.”
Two more soldiers came rushing out of a door on the left. Kevin’s heart jammed itself up into his throat, but the men jogged straight on past them without much show of reaction. Tris exhaled. Kevin peered in the room they came from as he passed it; a monitor inside showed the Quarantine Section’s central district flooded with a sizeable mob of angry, naked, slime-covered people, several of whom carried weapons. He paused to watch for a second.
“Now that’s a sight.”
Tris slammed open a door and went in. He jogged after her and entered a smaller control
center with four, single-operator desks in the middle. The far wall held an enormous television made from six wide-screen monitors slaved into a single display. He didn’t understand one bit of the graphs, math, or program code scrolling by.
“Pretty colors,” said Kevin
She leapt into the nearest chair and hammered away at a computer keyboard. “Shit. This is going to take me a few minutes. Can you go down there and trip the valves?”
“Go through where?”
Tris pointed at the right wall. He looked at her finger and tracked its path to a square silver hatch. She tapped a key on the desk and it whirred open, staying parallel to the wall as it rose out of the way on four struts.
“Go in there. You’ll have to crawl about fifteen feet before making a left turn, another ten feet, another left turn. There are six valves that need to be switched from the ‘main’ to the ‘purge’ setting.”
“What are you doing?” He peered over her shoulder.
“I’m bringing the incinerator online. This whole facility except for the drone controls is on an island network. Dad can’t get to anything in here except maybe a vid comm, but that won’t access the control system. It’s going to take two minutes for the incinerator to cycle up to a temperature where it will destroy the Virus for good. I’m rerouting flow paths and setting the―”
“Fine. Okay.” He pulled her head around by a finger on the chin and kissed her. “Valves to purge.”
“Right.”
He ran to the hatch and crawled into a square passage lined with black grating. It didn’t offer much of a view of the room despite it being metal mesh due to cabinet components stacked against the wall. He crawled forward and hooked a left into a shorter spar that cut around into the next room. Another left turn led to a long straightaway. About fifty feet ahead, the bright red handle of a flange valve adorned the bottom of a steel cone. He stopped beneath it and looked up.
The funnel connected to a tall, metal cylinder some fifteen feet high. Stamped letters in the metal around the handle path read ‘main,’ ‘close,’ and ‘purge.’ Both main and purge lined up with three-inch thick hoses winding off above the ceiling of the crawlspace, while the close setting put the handle over blank metal.
The Roadhouse Chronicles (Book 3): Dead Man's Number Page 39
