Island Refuge EMP Box Set | Books 1-3
Page 68
Malin clicked off the flashlight just as the hatch banged open. The mercs brought their own light. It moved down into the room and traced a path along the wall on the left. Elna saw boots on the steps, long shadows moving into the room. She could tell by the clunky way they stumbled down the stairs, bumping into each other, muttering, cursing, and snorting, that at least a few of them were sloshed.
Am I really going to shoot these people? Can I do it?
It was one thing to plan and imagine it, but now that the moment was upon her, she felt a kind of cold, rigid resistance coming over her. The first two soldiers entered the cellar and moved down the left side of the room. One of them reached out and touched the wine rack that had been moved beside the pillars. It should have alarmed him, but he merely touched it, grunted, and kept coming.
“Look for more bottles,” one of them said. “There are no secret doors. We looked. Commander can rant and rail all he wants. But if there’s more wine…”
“Yeah, yeah,” said another soldier.
Two more came down the stairs. Elna was frozen in place, breathing so fast that she felt light-headed. She couldn’t coordinate with Malin. How long should they let the men come into the room before opening fire? They were all in one place, six soldiers crammed in close on the left side of the room. She had a clear shot from cover, and the soldiers hadn’t spotted her yet.
Just a second longer. Just a second longer, she told herself, but she knew she was just buying time, putting off the terrible thing she knew she must do. It wasn’t so easy to kill people, even when they put your family, property, and way of life at risk.
The lead soldiers, stumbling and drunk, were about halfway into the room when the one with the flashlight swung the light along the back wall. Suddenly, it was shining directly into Elna’s eyes. The soldier made a single sound, the beginning of some word, and it was enough—it broke through the shell of fear that had clamped around Elna. She pulled the trigger and fired the handgun. The sound of gunshots in the stone room were so loud they stabbed into her ears, into her skull.
The flashlight went flying. Whether it was dropped or thrown, she didn’t know, but suddenly bright light was spinning around the room wildly, like some of kind of disco ball. This made everything disorienting, and the room in front of Elna became a chaos of shapes and seemingly random movements. Malin opened fire at some point, and she heard the crack of his pistol just above her head.
Elna saw sparks on the wall to her right—the soldiers were returning fire. She moved farther behind the door, tried to reposition the gun, and continued to fire until the magazine was empty. The flashlight was on the ground near the left wall, pointing into the corner so that most of the room was caught in the backwash. Long shadows were drawn toward the hatch, and she saw soldiers scrambling into the shadows. The wine rack she’d placed against the pillars was toppled over, and the hatch was shut.
This was a bad idea, she thought.
Malin was reloading his pistol. Apparently, he had another loaded magazine in his shirt pocket, but he seemed nervous, shaking, and he struggled to swap it with the empty magazine in the gun. In the process, he dropped his pistol. Elna bent down and grabbed it. When she rose, she saw a figure step out from behind the near wall, filling the gap in the half-opened door. He was huge, a beast in black, made all the more imposing by the nimbus of white light around him. He had a huge, blunt face, like a cinder block, and he reeked of wine and body odor.
“You can’t shoot worth a damn,” he said, raising a rifle at them. “But I can.”
Acting on instinct more than anything, Elna dropped both of her weapons, grabbed the back of Malin’s shirt, and pulled him back behind the door. She dropped down, letting her weight drag him. But in that moment, as she slipped out of the light, she heard the deafening bang of the rifle. Malin rolled on top of her, clearly trying to shield her body with his own, but when she looked past his shoulder, she saw the drunk mercenary stumbling backward. He had a look of shock on his face, eyes and mouth wide, and he was clutching a spot high on his shoulder, close to his neck. Black blood poured through his fingers.
“Didn’t see that…one…” he managed to say.
Only then did Elna realize that someone had come up behind them on the landing. Fish. He stood there with a Beretta in his hand.
“Let’s go,” he shouted at Elna and Malin. “Shut the damn door.”
Elna rolled to one side, dumping Malin on the ground, and reached up to the door handle. Grabbing it, she proceeded to slide the door shut. It resisted at first, but she put her weight into it, and slowly it began to move. As it was sliding shut, she heard another shot and another, but she didn’t dare look. She kept pushing the door until it slid home, then she set the crude latch in place. After a moment, Malin’s flashlight clicked on.
“It won’t hold long,” she said. “Their commander knew the tunnel was down here. They would have found it soon enough. I had to try to buy us some time.”
I’m trying to justify my plan, she realized. Still, there was truth to it. Once they’d begun sliding the wine racks out of position, the mercs would have spotted the sliding door.
“I think we hit a few,” Malin said, rising up beside her. “Not sure.”
“I don’t think so,” Elna replied. “We’d better get below. That was a mess, Malin. A big, dumb mess.”
She picked up her pistol and holstered it, then she rose and turned to head back down the tunnel. Only then did she see Fish on the ground. It looked like someone had tipped him over, and he’d just pivoted backward like a fallen tree. He was on his back, his hands above his head. The look on his face seemed more surprised than anything.
“Fish, are you okay?” she said, moving toward him.
He reached down with his right hand, felt the front of his shirt, and Elna noted a small hole in the green shirt. It was just below his sternum, not yet bleeding.
“He got me,” Fish said, breathless.
“We’d better get you to Dr. Ruzka,” Elna said. “Are the charges set?”
“I can’t feel anything,” he replied, tapping his lower chest. “From here down. Nothing. It’s all gone.”
Malin came up on the other side of him, grabbing the Marine under the armpit. “Let’s get him down the stairs. Hurry, before they figure out a way to get through the door.”
Elna grabbed Fish by the other arm, and they dragged him down the steps toward the second door. As they did, Elna felt wetness on the ground. His body slid just a little too easily. She looked back and saw an enormous puddle of blood and drags marks from his body. They got him through the second door, and Malin turned the handle to lock it.
“Fish, you’ve got to hang in there,” Elna said.
“It doesn’t hurt,” he replied, in what sounded like a sleepy voice. “Man, it hardly feels like anything at all.”
Elna looked down the many steps toward the tunnel. It was such a long way to go. If only the doctor had been there. Maybe she would have been able to stop the bleeding. Maybe. Elna felt awful, so awful, it was almost paralyzing. She saw Selene and her father at the bottom of the steps, and she waved them on.
“Just keep going,” she said. “Please. Hurry back to the bunker!”
“Hey. Hey.” Fish was speaking softly. He grabbed her hand and pulled it away from his arm.
“Tell us what to do, Fish,” she said. “How can we help you?”
He seemed remarkably calm. The look of surprise had left his face, and he was almost smiling now.
“You can’t help me,” he said. “Sit me up, please. Prop me against the wall. Do it.”
Elna and Malin helped him into a seated position. He winced and groaned, the only indication of pain, but they managed to get his back against the wall beside the door. Fish reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small plastic device. Then he drew his pistol and set it on his lap.
“I’m so sorry,” Elna said.
“Nah, you made a combat decision in the heat of th
e moment,” Fish replied. “That’s what you have to do. There’s no guarantee it’s gonna go your way, and that’s just war. But this…” He held up the plastic device and shook it. She could see that it had a single small switch in the middle. “This is the detonator. This is all we need now.”
She heard a loud bang coming from the sliding door. It was followed by another and another in quick succession, then loud voices.
“They’re forcing their way through,” Malin said. “We have to go.”
“Latch that door,” Fish said, pointing at the big L-shaped metal handle. “They’ll force their way through that one too, but I’ll buy you a few minutes so you can get down the corridor. I want them to come through. I want them in here when it comes down. Take the detonator. Use it as soon as you reach the other side.”
Malin glanced at Elna, and she nodded. She knew she would feel absolutely horrible about this whole situation later—she could feel the seeds of guilt and grief being planted—but in the moment, she was mostly in shock. Malin unlatched the door and stepped over Fish.
“That’s it,” Fish said. “Now, get the hell out of here and don’t look back. Let Prig know I took them all out with me.”
Elna thought she should say something, some comforting words, but she was at a loss. Finally, she gave Fish a gentle pat on the shoulder and started down the steps. As she approached the bottom, she heard a grinding sound behind her—they’d gotten through the sliding door somehow. Crowbar? Sledgehammer? Brute force? It didn’t matter. They were inside now.
25
At the bottom of the steps, Elna saw Selene and her father far ahead of her. She also saw charges taped to the wall. She didn’t know what kind of explosive Fish was using, but it looked to her like enough to bring down the whole island. Malin grabbed her hand in passing and pulled her down the corridor. It was so far—too far. Even shining a flashlight down the hall, she could barely see the end of it, a mere speck at the end of a narrow path.
Above and behind her, she heard banging on the second door. The violent thuds shook the whole corridor, bringing down dust and flecks of rust from the ceiling. The few lights that worked flickered wildly with each blow. Elna ran as fast as she could in the narrow corridor, dodging debris and boxes, but she hadn’t gone far when she heard a tremendous crash. Had they forced the second door open? It sounded like maybe they’d knocked the hinges off. She heard sudden gunshots, shouting and cursing.
“You’re not getting through.” Fish’s voice, followed by two more gunshots, shouting, cursing. Elna couldn’t tell what was happening, but it sounded like a desperate struggle. “I said you’re not getting through!”
One more gunshot, like an exclamation point at the end of a violent sentence. This was followed by the sound of boots on the stairs. Elna had the detonator in her right hand, and she let her thumb wander toward the trigger. There was a chance they would be caught in the hallway. If so, what would she do? What should she do? Letting the mercs into the bunker would be a catastrophe. Prig had made that clear.
You know what to do, she told herself. Bring the hallway down on top of them, even if that means bringing it down on top of yourself.
A ghastly thought. She wasn’t sure she could do it
If they get into the bunker, it’s all over for everyone, she reminded herself.
She glanced up at a spot high on the ceiling, where one of Fish’s charges was duct-taped in place. It looked like a small, green canister and had some white lettering on the side. She saw the word Dangerous in a bold font. Wires trailed out of the top and bottom of the canister, running along the corridor in either direction to the next charges. Fish had wired at least twelve of the canisters in a long line.
When she caught up to Selene and George, she stumbled to a stop.
“They made it through the second door,” she said. “Sounds like they hammered it down. I don’t know. But it didn’t stop them for long.”
“Here, take this,” Malin said, handing her his pistol. “I reloaded. Take a few shots back behind us, just to keep the mercenaries back a little bit. I’ll help Pop here. We’re moving too slowly.”
And with that, without warning George, Malin hoisted him up and draped him over his shoulder. Pop gave a little surprised grunt and grabbed at the back of Malin’s shirt.
“Comfortable?” Malin said.
“Not so much, no,” Pop replied, “but don’t mind me. I can put up with it. Let’s just go, please.”
“You got it,” Malin said. “One express ticket to the bunker. Hang on tight. Here we go.”
He tightened his grip around Pop’s torso and resumed running.
Selene hesitated, gaping back in the direction of the door. “How did they get through? That was a metal door with a metal bolt. Who are these people?”
“It was an old, rusted door,” Elna corrected, “and I’m sure they came prepared for getting through doors, walls, whatever. They were prepared to bring down the whole house looking for this tunnel. Hurry, Selene. They’ll be on us soon.”
She motioned at her, and Selene took off running, chasing after Malin and Pop. Elna glanced over her shoulder and saw the mercenaries appear at the bottom of the steps, saw their bright flashlight beam approach like a wave. She aimed with Malin’s pistol and took a few shots, but that was all Malin had managed to reload. However, it made the flashlight beam retreat, as if the soldier holding it had turned away.
The door to the game room was still so far away, and Elna was running so fast, she felt dangerously close to flying apart. Her breath ached in her lungs, and she’d developed a pounding headache from all of the shooting.
We have to slow them down somehow, she thought. They’ll be faster than us, and this passageway is long. If they catch up, we’re done for.
They were passing an intersection with two other passageways, both of which were crammed with debris. Elna dared to stop. The others didn’t notice and kept running. Grabbing a large wooden crate, Elna dragged it out of the corridor on the right and shoved it behind her. Then she added some large pieces of machinery, scattering them on the floor to create obstacles for their pursuers.
When she looked back down the corridor, she saw the wildly bobbing flashlight beam, shapes caught in the middle of it casting long shadows in her direction. She dragged a final large plastic tub out of a cross-path. It was full of rusted equipment, and she kicked it over, letting all of the contents gush out onto the floor. She heard a gunshot then, heard the bullet ping off the debris, and she instinctively dropped to her knees. She aimed Malin’s gun and pulled the trigger before she remembered that the magazine was empty.
For good measure, she dragged one more large wooden crate out of a side corridor and flipped it on top of the pile. This, at least, created a bit of concealment for any more gunfire. But she’d wasted too much time. Turning back, she saw Malin and Selene far in the distance. Bearing George in his arms had slowed Malin down, but it was better than letting her dad shuffle along on his own. Elna made sure she still had the detonator in hand as she started after them.
Elna ran flat out, tucking her arms in against her sides, lowering her head, and concentrating on taking long strides. It didn’t take long to catch up to Malin and the others. She’d only gone another twenty yards or so when she heard the soldiers barreling into the debris. Glancing over her shoulder again, she saw them kicking and smashing through the pile she’d made. Then she looked back in the direction of the bunker door. Another hundred yards or so.
“We’re not going to make it,” she said.
When Malin kept going, she reached out and grabbed his shoulder.
“Malin, we’re not going to make it,” she said. “They’ll catch up to us before we reach the door.”
He looked back at her, grimacing. His blondish hair was plastered against his skull, sweat streaming down his face. He looked past her to the soldiers, then to the bunker door.
“You’re right,” he said. “Not enough time. We won’t make it.”
Well, this is it, then, Elna thought.
26
The soldiers were maybe fifty yards away, but when they saw Elna and the others stop, they slowed down. Maybe they thought it was a trap. Indeed, it was, wasn’t it?
If you’re willing, Elna told herself.
She turned and pulled the flashlight out of Malin’s hand, giving it to Selene.
“Take this,” she said. “You and Pop keep going.”
Selene seemed reluctant to take the flashlight, and when she did, she held it lightly, as if Elna had handed her a weapon. Elna motioned for her to keep moving, but she hesitated, a pained look on her face.
“Don’t do anything crazy,” Selene said finally.
“We’re past the point of discussing it,” Elna said, giving Selene a little push. “Get going.”
“Elna, maybe we can reason with the mercenaries,” Pop said. “We’re only civilians, after all.”
But Selene snagged his arm and pulled him down the corridor. He made an exasperated sound but didn’t resist, and soon the two of them had resumed their too-slow retreat to the bunker. Elna scanned the wall back the way they’d come until she spotted the last of Fish’s explosive charges. He hadn’t planted any near the bunker door.
How strong will the blast be? Elna wondered. Will the shock wave kill us? Will it bring the whole island down on top of us? There was no way to know without pressing the detonator button.
Roughly forty yards away, the advancing soldiers marched quickly in their direction. The corridor wasn’t quite wide enough for them to walk side by side, so they were staggered, creating a zigzagging line of four black-clad bodies that seemed to be snaking toward them.
“We’ll keep moving toward the bunker,” Elna said.