“Well, I think that’s enough fucking time,” King said more loudly than necessary, turning his light on one of his men. “Jorge, go make sure all the workers are secure, then bring everybody here. Seems we’re going to need a bigger team to go fix that fucking cable.”
Jorge didn’t move. “What about Tocat? Shouldn’t we wait for him?
King shone his flashlight right into Jorge’s eyes, purposely blinding him. “If he’s still alive, he obviously needs some fucking help. Stop with the questions and get the fuck moving.”
Jorge flicked on his flashlight and pushed open the office door. Lindsay listened to him march down the hallway, hard and fast. A man contemplating violence. Rico, another guard, closed the door behind him.
King chuckled, and set his flashlight on his desk, the beam pointing upwards. Lacing his fingers together over his bovine belly he smiled. “How you doing, Lindsay?” he asked in mock concern. “You’re not scared, are you?”
“Just waiting.” Not that a man like King could ever comprehend what she meant by that. He’d sent her friends on a suicide mission, not only to face the Moles but to somehow kill Tocat as well. The fact wrenched at her gut, and as each minute crept past, the torture of her fears for Jack and Reggie had grown till she thought she would scream.
King rubbed his belly, the folds of fat rolling up in a wave. “I bet you are.”
Through the thick office door came the muffled blast of an automatic weapon, almost instantly cut short.
All was quiet.
“Rico,” King said, his voice stripped of joviality, “go see what that was.”
The Teco edged to the door, cracking it open enough to insert his flashlight, his pistol at the ready. “I don’t see anything.”
“Then go take a fucking look, you moron!” King bellowed.
The man drew breath, then disappeared through the door.
“Tito, lock the fucking door.”
The remaining guard jumped to his duty, sliding a heavy bolt into place.
“Probably some idiot shooting at fucking shadows,” King said, not very confidently.
Lindsay eyed the narrow vent above King’s desk. Exactly how big were the Moles, anyway? “Are you sure there’s no way for them to get in?”
“Not unless the fuckers can walk through walls.”
“Or in them. Like rats.” Lindsay’s suggestion was more whimsical than serious. King didn’t take it that way. The tip of his cigarette bobbed in the dim light like a firefly. Lindsay shifted in her seat uneasily. They waited in silence for Rico’s return, King’s apprehension deteriorating into brooding fear. Suddenly he turned to Lindsay.
“Is this some fucking trick of Cole’s?”
“Jack’s not stupid.” This wasn’t some action movie where he and Reggie could overcome a complex full of armed guards with their bare hands. Had there been an exchange of gunfire or sounds of pitched battle she may have believed that it was a rescue attempt, but whatever fate had befallen Jorge and Rico, she was sure Jack hadn’t been the one to deal it.
“You had fucking others with you, didn’t you? People waiting outside in case you three got trapped in here. Who is it? Those crazy fucks from Sumptown? Reggie’s crew from Grand Central?”
Lindsay didn’t care to answer, her eyes riveted to the door.
King jerked open one of his desk drawers and took out a huge revolver. Getting up he seized Lindsay by her hair and yanked her painfully to her feet.
“Tito! Open the fucking door!” he demanded, jamming the cold point of the revolver against the small of her back.
The man shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, boss.”
“Do what I fucking tell you! I give the fucking orders here!”
Tito stayed put. “Those are Moles out there. They got Tocat and Jorge and Rico! They’re not human!”
“It’s only Cole, you fucking retard! The Moles are just a bunch of psycho crack-heads, not fucking monsters! It’s all a bunch of fucking bullshit! The fucker must have had people waiting for him outside, and now they’re trying to rescue his woman. Fuck that. We’re going to use her as a fucking hostage. Now do as I fucking say or we’re going to lose this whole fucking place.”
Tito cringed under the verbal onslaught, his fear of King and fear of the Moles crushing him like a vice.
“Open the fucking door!”
“No!”
Twisting her neck, Lindsay saw King’s face was purple with rage and fear, sweat dripping down his brow despite the coolness.
“Fuck you, Tito!” he snarled, and shoved Lindsay toward the frightened guard. Lindsay fell to the ground at his feet, while King snatched the flashlight from his desk and turned it to the door.
“Keep your fucking gun on her!” King growled, and drew back the heavy bolt.
For a moment there was silence, and all Lindsay could see was King’s massive silhouette before the blank metal of the door, gun in one hand, flashlight in the other. Then he slipped the gun into the waistband of his pants and slowly, very slowly, turned the doorknob. It opened with a creak, and the room dimmed as King focused his light into the hallway.
In an instant, the light was gone.
There was a sudden squeal from King, and Lindsay felt the vibration of his huge body crashing to the office floor, struggling with something at his throat. “Aggh! Fucking kill it!” he shrieked, his voice high with terror, and the room lit up with the flash of Tito’s pistol.
That brief instant of light caught an image that burned into Lindsay’s mind. Some shapeless ragged thing at King’s bloodied throat, its jaws locked on his jugular. Another crouched before Tito, ready to spring like some nightmare carnivore.
Too terrified to scream, she scrambled away, her shoulder banging painfully against the desk as she rolled under it, clutching her ears as King’s frantic screams and Tito’s gunfire filled the room. There was a horrible wet chopping sound, a heavy thud against the floor, and a long, gurgling moan from King. All was silent again.
Lindsay huddled in the pitch blackness, her knees curled to her chin, arms over her head, heart pounding. Her thoughts skittered to Jack. Don’t let them get you, Jack. Don’t let them get you….
A strange crackling noise flittered through the room and then another. A metallic smell drifted to her and away, the sounds dropped off, and she felt that whatever horrors had come to Seneca had withdrawn. Still, long minutes passed before she gathered the courage to crawl out from under King’s desk.
Blindly, she crept in the direction of the exit, running her hand along the edge of the desk to guide her, her foot catching on King’s motionless form. Biting her lip, she inched past him, to the wide open door. Carefully she got down on her knees, groping for the flashlight, only to discover it was useless—the Moles had smashed it.
“Shit,” she muttered. She saw a flicker of light ahead, the beam of a flashlight from an adjoining corridor. It had to be one of the guards.
Scuttling back, her ankle bumped against something heavy. It was King’s revolver, and taking it, she flattened herself against the wall beside the doorframe. The beam of light shone through the open door, and looking down, Lindsay almost retched from what it illuminated.
King’s throat had been torn out as if he’d been attacked by some huge dog, and Tito’s limp form, lying in the far corner amidst spent bullet cartridges, had so much blood over it she couldn’t even tell how much of the man was really left. The room looked more like an abattoir than an office.
The light intensified as it approached, her grip tightened on the massive revolver and she tried to control her panicked breaths. Quietly she rose to her feet. She didn’t want to kill anyone, but she would sooner that than let the Tecos get hold of her.
The person with the light paused on the threshold of the office, no doubt taking in the scene of carnage, then entered.
“Freeze!” Lindsay cried, pressing the gun against the back of his head. “One move and I’ll…”
“Thank God,�
� Jack exhaled, turning to face her.
Sobbing with relief she dropped the pistol and fell into his arms. He hugged her hard.
“You okay?” he whispered.
“Oh Jack…I saw them…”
“It’s okay.” She could feel his heart pound against her. “Are you hurt?”
“No…they burst into the room and killed King and…and…”
“Linds, we have to get out of here. They’re not gone.”
Her breath caught in her throat as she looked into Jack’s amber eyes, their piercing brightness almost luminescent in the dark.
Picking up King’s pistol, he led her back through the door to where Reggie and Tocat were waiting, the former keeping his sub-machine gun trained down the hallway. Tocat was hobbling along with Reggie’s aid, his face pale and slick with sweat.
“King’s dead,” Jack whispered. “Where’s that elevator, Tocat?”
“Down there.” He pointed to a nearby juncture.
Reggie led the way forward, Lindsay now becoming Tocat’s crutch, Jack walking backwards behind the group, his heavy revolver at the ready. They made several turns, stepped over the bloody bodies of a couple more guards, their corpses as mutilated as the ones in King’s office and past rooms where people were crying with fear.
“Shouldn’t we help them?” Lindsay wondered, her baser instincts not lending to charity but unable to ignore them, either.
“The Moles want me,” Jack said. “We clear the area, things’ll settle and they’ll find their way out.”
Good enough. The four reached a small warehouse space, stacked with assorted crates and boxes, and at its rear was an elevator not much larger than a dumbwaiter. Reggie slung his gun over his shoulder and pressed the button alongside it. Everyone blew out their breath when the machine hummed to life, the doors sliding open to reveal barely enough space for two people.
“It can only be controlled from here,” Tocat gritted out. “Once it goes up it has to be brought back down.”
“Lindsay, you and Tocat get in,” Jack ordered. “We’ll follow.”
With Reggie’s help, Lindsay maneuvered Tocat inside, then wedged herself beside the man. Jack hit a button and the doors closed, the machinery rumbling as it began its ascent.
“That’s one lucky woman,” Reggie whispered. “Why didn’t the Moles kill her?”
Jack watched the elevator rise towards safety. “I wasn’t bullshitting King. The Moles thinks she belongs to me. Besides, she’s not much of a threat.”
Reggie shook his head. “I get the feeling we ain’t much of one, either. How did they get in?”
“They probably sent their young to squeeze through the ventilation ducts. The ones in the labs would have been big enough.”
“They sent their kids?” Reggie asked incredulously.
“They’re not your typical kids. Either that or there's some other way in that King didn’t know about. Could be some forgotten crawlspace, or maybe a sewer line. Who knows?”
Beyond the storeroom’s doorway came the sound of several gunshots.
“Oh shit,” Reggie whispered, glancing at the elevator display. The thing hadn’t reached the surface yet, and still had to return.
“This is taking too long,” Jack muttered. “We can’t let them corner us here.”
“Then to hell with waiting,” Reggie said. Turning around he grasped the elevator doors, using his might to wrench them open. There was a service ladder mounted to the far side of the shaft.
“Let’s go, Jack. You first.”
“How are we going to get out when we reach the top? The elevator car will be in the way.”
“Trust me,” Reggie said.
Jack did, and began climbing as fast as he could. Reggie squeezed himself into the small shaft right behind him, pushing the doors shut before following.
They climbed through the blackness, the air chilling as they went. “You okay, Reggie?”
“Yeah, everything’s cool as long as—”
Below them they heard the doors to the elevator being wrenched open.
“Shit,” they both cursed, then Jack banged his head on the bottom of the elevator car.
“Agh!”
“Jack?” It was Lindsay’s muffled voice.
“Yeah, it’s us!” he yelled to her, looked down at Reggie. “So, what now?”
“We climb up behind the car and cut the cables,” he replied. “It’ll fall out of our way.”
Jack reached up and felt the space between the ladder and the elevator. A tight squeeze—the gap was about a foot wide. “Dammit, Reggie.”
There was enough space to lever himself upward. How Reggie was going to do it he had no idea. He jerked his way up, then with a sudden whine of gears the machine began to descend, threatening to scrape him off the ladder.
Releasing all the air from his lungs Jack flattened himself against the wall as the car slid past. The elevator doors on the opposite side of the shaft were open, framing Lindsay. Behind her he could make out the interior of a wooden shed, sunlight blazing through its open door.
Eyes watering, he rolled onto the roof of the elevator as it leveled with the floor, then pulled the pistol from his waistband and blew a huge hole in its motor. With metallic groaning the elevator shuddered to a stop.
He moved to the edge. “Reggie?”
He heard scrambling from below. “I’m trying.”
“Take my hand. I’ll pull you through.”
From out of the darkness Reggie’s hand gripped Jack’s. Grunting, Reggie fought to push himself up through the gap, but his girth was simply too large.
“Don’t give up,” Jack ordered, hauling on his friend’s arm with all his might. “You can make it.”
“…It’s no good, Jack…” Reggie choked. “…I fucked up.”
Lindsay climbed in beside Jack and seized Reggie by his jacket. They could see the whites of Reggie’s eyes in the darkness as he strained upward, then suddenly his body was jerked back. He let out a howl of pain.“They’ve got my leg!”
Reggie’s fierce struggles rocked the elevator, and Jack wrenched on his friend’s arm with all his might. His muscles trembling from the effort he dragged on Reggie, Lindsay bracing her foot against the wall and adding every ounce of her strength as well.
A ragged arm, inhumanly long and wiry, seized Jack by the ankle at the same instant Reggie burst through the narrow space, the momentum breaking Jack free from the Mole’s grip. The three of them tumbled into the sunlit shack, landing beside Tocat in a heap. Jack and Lindsay scrambled to their feet, ready to fight. All that came from the elevator shaft was a screech like ripping metal.
Lindsay swallowed hard as she watched Jack cleanse and wrap Tocat’s smashed knee. The criminal was wanted both by the police and his old gangland associates, so taking him to a hospital would have been akin to a death sentence. Instead they had transported him in the back of Lindsay’s car to Jack’s place, and made him as comfortable as they could on the bed. Jack had loaded him up on over-the-counter painkillers, but they did little to ease his suffering, and leaving Tocat to rest, Lindsay followed Jack out of the bedroom.
Reggie glanced up anxiously from his place in the armchair, his own leg wrapped in a thick layer of bandages and propped up on the other chair.
“If he just had a break I could do a splint," Jack said, going to the kitchen sink. "Only his knee is crushed bad. He needs some real care or he’ll lose his leg.”
Lindsay leaned against the counter beside Jack as he washed his hands, the water running red. Thank God it wasn’t his blood. “Agharta?”
“There’s no way I can carry him all the way down there myself, and Reggie isn’t in any condition to help. Besides, it’s a long trip, and if the rats smell blood they’ll swarm us—assuming the Moles don’t get us first.”
“Then we’ll need to get Shamba to come here.” She grimaced. “Or Gali.”
“Shamba’s too old,” Reggie said. “It’ll take him too long. It’ll have to be Gali.�
��
Jack nodded, drying his hands with a paper towel. “I could climb down the elevator shaft back to Seneca. That would make the trip a lot faster.”
Lindsay stared. “What about the Moles?”
“They’ve got no reason to stay there. They only attacked in the hopes of getting me, and I don’t think Seneca’s survivors will have much interest in hanging around there either. Odds are they’ve already fled into the tunnels. Or up the shaft.”
Lindsay pushed off from the counter. “All right then. Let’s go.”
Jack shook his head. “No, Lindsay. You’re staying here.”
When she moved to protest, he held up his hand, cutting her off.
“I’ll move faster and quieter on my own, Linds. I know you can handle yourself, but coming with me isn’t going to be any help. Besides, you’re bruised and exhausted. Out of the three of us I’m the only one who’s uninjured. I’m as fresh as this little crew gets.”
He was right. In this case he would be better off on his own, as much as she hated to admit it. She tossed her car keys to him.
Catching them, Jack pulled on his thick winter jacket and gloves, then turned to Reggie. “You going to be okay?”
Reggie shrugged. “Lindsay’s here. You be careful, man.”
Jack gave one last look at Lindsay, then turned for the stairs.
To hell with that. She hooked his upper arm. Her lips crashed against his in a hard, full kiss. She pulled back, her hands cupping his face. “Remember to come back.”
He touched his forehead to hers. “No hope of forgetting.”
“Bring some eggs,” Reggie called from the chair. “Milk, too.”
Lindsay listened as he climbed the stairs, and winced at the sound of the apartment door opening, then quietly closing.
“You got it bad for him, don’t you?” Reggie asked.
She dodged the question.“You seem remarkably cheerful,”
“I’m alive, ain’t I? That’s something to be thankful for after what we’ve been through.”
Undertow (The UnderCity Chronicles) Page 20
