Breaking World_The Last Sanctuary Book Four

by Kyla Stone

  There was a pause. Several seconds passed. Micah exchanged a tense look with Silas. Would this actually work? Would the guy buy it? What were they going to do if he didn’t?

  Finally, Harold Mather said, “Thank…you,” in a slow, drawling voice. “Sure…I can take you up there.”

  “Fantastic. You literally don’t know how much this means to me.” Fiona appeared, grinning slyly, a sloppily dressed, middle-aged man leaning heavily on her arm. He was a puffy-faced white guy, balding, wearing a suit that looked slightly too small for his bulging gut. “Guys, meet Herald. Herald, these are friends of mine. They’re going to hang out with us for a bit.”

  “Cool…” Herald murmured. His eyes were unfocused, like he was trying unsuccessfully to wake from a deep slumber.

  Herald allowed Fiona to tug him along to the elevator, which refused to move until Fiona lifted Herald’s palm, pressed it to the biometric scanner, and simultaneously pushed him to the iris scanner. “Look here, please.”

  The elevator rose to the fourth floor. They hurried down the hallway to a steel-reinforced door marked “Network Terminal.” Theo pointed at the last door, “Aerial Security” emblazoned on the front. “They manage the drones in there. I can hack them individually, once we’ve captured one by hand—”

  “Not an easy feat, by the way,” Fiona interrupted.

  “—but from there, you could control them all through the cloud.” Theo’s eyes gleamed with the possibilities. “Sadly, not even Herald can help us get in there. Only those with top-secret clearance get inside that room. But think of what we could do with a battalion of drones. Think of how we could—”

  “One thing at a time,” Fiona said, gently redirecting Theo to the task at hand.

  Theo gave her a tense grin. “Right.”

  Fiona helped Herald press his hand and eye to the security panel. The door hissed and swung open. They slipped into a large white room filled with banks and banks of computer consoles.

  They were in.

  34

  Willow

  Willow wasn’t wearing her boots. They were still in the tent, nestled between Finn’s giant ones and Benjie’s smaller pair. The dampness of the snowy ground seeped through her wool socks. She wore her coat, no scarf, the wind slipping icy fingers down the back of her neck.

  She inhaled sharply. The cold seared her throat.

  Sticks and rocks poked the tender undersides of her feet. She didn’t feel the sting. She didn’t dare feel it.

  There wasn’t time or space for anything but the bear.

  Hulking and monstrous. Hot breath steaming through its jaws. Bone-crushing jaws. Jaws that could rip Benjie’s head from the stalk of his neck, could tear out Finn’s spine.

  The thought seared her to the core.

  Willow could smell the sour stink of it, foul and rancid. It reared up on its hind legs and gave a loud, rumbling growl. Its teeth gleamed white in the moonlight. Darkened saliva smeared the fur below its jaws.

  She knew what that meant.

  It was infected.

  Panic surged in her chest, followed by a crushing, nameless fear. She didn’t know what to do. She’d never been in the wild. She didn’t know bear behavior. All she could think of was how to get between the people she loved and the thing trying to kill them.

  There was no time to think of a plan. She had to act.

  Willow raised the rifle. “Run to me, Benjie. Now!”

  Benjie obeyed. He raced toward her, arms flailing, his face etched in terror.

  The bear lurched after him, drawn by his movement.

  “HEY!” Finn shouted at the top of his lungs, waving his good arm. He hurled his hunting knife at the grizzly bear’s flank. It fell uselessly to the ground.

  But the grizzly hesitated, swinging its great head between Finn and Benjie. It turned sideways as if it wasn’t sure which direction to charge. It made loud, angry whuffing sounds. Bloody drool soaked its jaws.

  This was her chance. Maybe the only one she was going to get.

  Time slowed. Every second hammering through her. She aimed, willing her hands to stop shaking, for her shot to strike true. She pulled the trigger.

  The bullet punched a pine tree behind the grizzly, spraying it with bark.

  Her sweaty fingers nearly slipped off the trigger. She huffed her bangs out of her eyes. Focus. Focus. She fought to quiet her thumping heart, to still her ragged breathing. She couldn’t hear through the blood roaring in her ears.

  Her second shot went wide of the target, merely grazing the grizzly’s humped back. Blood streaked an arc across its tangled fur. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough.

  The grizzly turned on her with a bellow of rage. It squared its massive shoulders, ears pressed back against its skull, and roared. Dark spittle flew from its gaping jaws.

  She’d only served to enrage it, to make it even more dangerous. Damn it all to hell.

  The bear lunged. It charged her so swiftly, her brain barely had the time to process that the beast had even moved.

  She staggered back, heart in her throat, half-turning to run. But it was too late. The grizzly swung a massive paw and struck a glancing blow across her ribs. The impact lifted her off her feet and slammed her against the trunk of an oak tree.

  The rifle spun out of her grip. Her head cracked against the hard, unforgiving wood. Her breath rushed from her lungs.

  The world spun above her, glittering stars in the sky a swirling, sparkling vortex. Sounds blurred in and out of focus.

  She managed to lift her head. Dizziness washed over her, everything spinning, spinning. She blinked, forcing her brain to think, her eyes to focus.

  Across the clearing, Finn lay on the ground beneath the grizzly. He was on his stomach, his legs tucked beneath him, his hands clenched over his neck, the elbow of his left arm tucked in to protect his side. His right arm hung limp, exposing his ribs.

  For a terrible second, she thought he was dead.

  Then she heard him. His breathing was heavy and labored. But he was breathing.

  The grizzly swiped at him with a roar, biting at the backpack he still wore—the backpack now protecting his spine.

  But for how long?

  From a great distance, someone was shouting. Indecipherable words. Words that didn’t compute. That couldn’t compute. Because their meaning was too horrifying to comprehend.

  I am Sir Benjie! I am a knight! If you don’t leave my friend alone, I will be forced to slay you!

  Her brother, impossibly small, impossibly brave, a fierce streak of movement hurtling toward the huge bear, the tiny knife of Finn’s multi-tool grasped in one hand.

  Her scream shattered the air.

  35

  Micah

  “Through here,” Theo said. “We need the server software access.”

  The room was much larger than Micah expected, filled with sleek, integrated computer modules and giant wallscreens. The far wall was lined with rows of servers stacked vertically. Thousands of tiny lights blinked like eyes. Thick bundles of cables snaked along the floor and ceiling.

  “This is the Sanctuary’s command and control center,” Theo said with a loving pat on an integrated computer desk. The giant wallscreen in front of him was subdivided into a dozen smaller squares, each displaying individual data feeds. “Security. Communications. Transportation. Dedicated asset management and control. The network. It’s all here.”

  Micah left the door cracked so they could hear anyone approaching. He and Silas stood guard on either side of the door while Theo went to work.

  “Now that we’re in, we have—” Kadek checked his Smartflex “—nineteen minutes and twelve seconds before the next patrol.”

  “You neglected to mention that part!” Silas spat furiously.

  Kadek shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Oops.”

  Fiona gestured to Herald, who was swaying on his feet. “Sit over here, Herald. Why don’t you take a little nap?”

  “I am feeling rather t
ired,” Herald mumbled.

  Theo rummaged through Fiona’s duffle bag and pulled out something he called a “relay hub” along with a tangle of cables and connectors.

  Micah winced at the mess. “Let me untangle these for you.”

  Theo frowned. “No thanks. I’ve got it under control.”

  “No one touches Theo’s stuff,” Fiona explained. “No one.”

  “He’s kind of uptight about that,” Kadek said from the other side of the room, where he was jacking into the building’s security footage and redubbing it, erasing their existence.

  Theo connected the relay hub’s adapter to a power source, then hooked up some sort of satellite antenna to the window. He disconnected the cables from the crypto relays and plugged them into his own with a bit of colorful cursing as he worked to find the correct connections.

  Kadek edged a peek around the doorway. “Patrol due in less than ten. Less bragging, more accomplishing tasks, please.”

  “Well, since you asked nicely.” Theo tapped a bunch of codes into the wallscreen, swiping like mad, his tongue protruding slightly in concentration. “I’m disabling the tracking systems, making us ghosts, essentially. There won’t be any record of our presence.”

  He pulled a small oblong object out of his pocket—the thumb drive recorder Harper had passed them from Amelia— and jacked it into a port in the command terminal. The display keyboard pulsed to life on the sleek desk.

  Theo let out a breath. “Excellent.”

  “I wanna go home…” came a muffled voice.

  “Herald’s waking up,” Fiona warned.

  “Five minutes!” Kadek said.

  Micah’s heart rate accelerated. He edged around the doorway, nudged the door open a few inches, and leaned out. His glasses slid down his nose. He jammed them back into place. Empty hallway. Silence. No movement.

  Theo grunted. “Just let me splice this footage, synchronize the sound feeds, and I’m good to go.”

  Kadek wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. “A little faster.”

  Thirty seconds later, Theo unhooked his relay hub, tangle of cables, and the thumb drive, and pushed away from the bank of servers. “It’s scheduled to break into the daily news report at six p.m. tomorrow. That’s prime time. Everyone will be watching. Let’s go.”

  They cleaned up, leaving no trace, then descended to the third floor. They left Herald in his office, dumped unceremoniously on his leather sofa. Fiona rumpled his shirt, loosened his tie, and removed his shoes before pulling a half-full bottle of bourbon out of her duffle bag and setting it on the coffee table next to him.

  “Smart,” Micah said, watching her.

  She shrugged like it was nothing, but her cheeks bloomed crimson. “He’ll come to think he’s waking up after a bender. Anything he thinks he remembers will be sketchy as heck.”

  “Time to go!” Kadek hissed.

  They raced down the hallway, Micah and Silas taking point, clearing each opened door in the hallway. The passing seconds ticked inside Micah’s head like a bomb just waiting to go off.

  They reached the elevator and ducked inside. Theo activated the biometric scanner. He stuck a thumb drive into the port, swiped in a bunch of code, and deleted the elevator’s records for the last hour.

  “Don’t look now, but two guards are approaching one floor down.” Silas pointed toward a flashlight bobbing along the polished tile below them.

  The elevator walls were glass. They offered zero protection. Micah and Silas pressed against the far wall, but it wouldn’t make a bit of difference if either of the guards looked up. They were like fish in a transparent barrel.

  The elevator descended, achingly slow.

  “If they see us, this is all for nothing.” Micah bit the inside of his cheeks so hard he tasted blood.

  “Whatever you do, don’t move,” Fiona said out of the corner of her mouth. “They’re on the second floor. As soon as we fall below the next floor, they won’t see us as long as they don’t look over the balcony. We’ll be home free.”

  “Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched,” Kadek muttered.

  “Chickens don’t come from eggs anymore, dummy,” Fiona said, her body stiff, her lips barely moving.

  As the elevator descended, the guards came into view. Micah whispered a silent prayer as the first guard paused to check an opened door, his body half-turned away from the elevators.

  The second guard was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, smoking a faux cigarette. He only had to look up to see them, only ten yards away, sliding right past him.

  Micah held his breath.

  The guard didn’t look up.

  The elevator crept lower, lower. Finally, it slid below the guards’ line of sight.

  Silas inhaled a ragged breath. Micah whispered a relieved prayer of thanks. Fiona and Theo gave each other silent fist bumps, grinning like kids. Fiona turned to Silas, fist out, but he just gave her an awkward glare. She shrugged and punched his shoulder instead.

  Silas jerked away like she’d stabbed him.

  Micah stifled a tense laugh. Someone had a little crush, and Silas had no clue what to do about it.

  The elevator continued to the lobby. Before the elevator doors slid open, Fiona put her finger to her lips. They still needed to be absolutely silent to slip out the entrance doors without attracting the notice of the guards upstairs.

  Kadek checked his SmartFlex. His eyes widened as he signaled them. One minute before the exterior guards strolled around the front corner.

  They strode as quickly as they could to the front entrance, Micah’s adrenaline-fueled muscles begging him to run. Fiona reached the glass door first and held it open for Theo. He rolled through, his muscles bulging as he maneuvered the wheelchair with skill and speed.

  And then they were all racing across the manicured lawn to the cover of the hedges across the street, where the surveillance drone waited for them like an obedient pet.

  The chill in the air was a welcome relief against Micah’s hot skin. Breathing hard, he risked a peek over the top of the bushes. Like clockwork, the two exterior guards marched around the corner.

  “Time to separate,” Theo whispered. “We’ll meet at a location still to be determined at ten before six to watch it all go down. I’ll message you. Good night and good luck.”

  Micah and Silas followed Fiona as she slipped off into the darkness, heading for the agricultural sector, the drone drifted along behind them.

  The adrenaline slowly seeped from his veins. He shivered, suddenly cold, slightly stunned at how well they’d pulled it off.

  A tiny prick of doubt niggled the back of his mind. It had almost seemed easy.

  When had anything they’d ever done been easy?

  36

  Willow

  Willow’s scream ripped from her throat, a primal thing full of love and terror and dread. “Benjie!”

  She would switch places with him in a heartbeat, lay herself down to die for him, to bleed every drop from her body if it could save him.

  But her body wouldn’t move. Her legs and arms were strangely numb. Her head rang with terrible sounds. Her lungs burned from every breath she couldn’t take.

  She was forced to watch, horrified and helpless, as her eight-year-old brother fearlessly took on a grizzly bear.

  Benjie ran straight at the bear. It was still crouched over Finn, clawing at his backpack, growling and snarling. Benjie thrust the small blade into the bear’s haunches.

  The bear rose with a ferocious roar. It twisted and lunged for Benjie.

  Benjie fell, scrambling back on his elbows.

  No! Willow screamed. But she didn’t know if she’d even made a sound, or if the scream was trapped inside her own head.

  “NO!” came again, but it wasn’t her voice this time, but a deep, booming shout.

  Finn pulled himself to his knees, scrabbling in the snow and leaves and dirt. He whirled, Willow’s gun in his left hand. He didn’t hesitate a second. He pull
ed the trigger.

  The first shot struck the bear in the right shoulder. It roared and reared onto its hind legs. It swung its head, searching with wild, murderous eyes for the source of its pain. Its massive paws dangled over Benjie’s body, deadly claws glinting.

  Benjie cowered. He curled his arms over his head. It wasn’t enough. All seven hundred pounds of the grizzly would slam down, crushing Benjie’s bones to dust, shredding muscle and skin and flesh.

  Run! Willow screamed. Move! But maybe that was a mistake. Maybe if he ran, he would only draw the bear’s attention.

  Maybe he was doomed either way.

  Her breath slammed back into her lungs. She inhaled a single, shuddering breath. “FINN!”

  Finn stumbled toward the bear. He lifted the gun again and fired. The bullet went wide, smashing against the branches somewhere above their heads. The bear bellowed, still on his hind legs. He took a step away from Benjie, his head swiveling toward Finn.

  Finn fired another shot. Missed. His arm shook.

  He shot again. The bullet struck the grizzly in the gut. Dark blood gleamed black, matting the creature’s fur. It still didn’t retreat. It didn’t fall. It didn’t leave.

  How many bullets did it take? How many were left?

  Her head cleared, painfully slow.

  One. One bullet left.

  “Leave. Him. Alone!” Finn screamed. He ran toward Benjie, toward the bear, close enough that he wouldn’t miss. Couldn’t miss, even if it killed him. A single lunge, one strike of that powerful paw, and it would be over.

  Bloody saliva glistened from the grizzly’s jaws. It lumbered toward Finn, still towering on its hind legs. Finn aimed for the creature’s skull. He pulled the trigger.

  The bear’s head snapped back. It moaned, staggered, and fell with an earth-shaking thud.

  It moaned again, eyes rolling wildly in their sockets, jaw working, paws scraping at the snow like it could climb right back to its feet again.

  But it didn’t. It couldn’t.