Jane and the Exodus

by T. R. Woodman

  “And you’re going to tell me where to go, after you unlock the door—right?”

  “Yes. In the time you are running, I’ll be searching their systems and internal surveillance. I’ll figure out where your dad and brother are. If all goes well, you should be back outside in twenty minutes or less from the time you say you’re ready, and I’ll pick you up in the shuttle.”

  Jane closed her eyes for a moment. Images of everything horrible she had heard and seen lately flooded her mind. She thought of her dad, handcuffed to a metal chair, being interrogated about Evelyn. She thought about her brother, strapped to a gurney, being prodded by doctors in search of the secrets of the technology in his head.

  “Tell me when you’re ready, Jane.”

  Jane’s mind raced. She thought about her mom. Could she really be in there too? She imagined her shivering in a hole, somewhere deep inside the building. She thought about the graveyard in the mountains and the starving girl she had tried to help. Jane couldn’t help but imagine the girl and her dad being pushed out of the back of a shuttle to their deaths.

  “Are you ready, Jane?”

  Jane’s mind was running away from her, and her heart was pounding. She imagined what might happen if she was caught and the sensation of being frustrated and angry and terrified, and being pushed out of the back of a shuttle alive, and falling to her own grisly death. The more she thought, the more she started to shake, and then, in her mind, she heard herself scream, No!

  Jane’s mind cleared, all of the horrible visions vanishing like smoke caught in a breeze. As they did, she took a deep breath as if she were about to dive into an ocean with the purpose of swimming to the bottom. She opened her eyes, stiffened her back, felt her thighs and calves tighten, and she firmly grabbed the long-handled bolt cutters.

  “Now,” Jane said, and as she did, she felt every muscle in her body flex. In seconds she was at the fence, tearing into it with the bolt cutters. If it was supposed to be hard, she couldn’t tell; she felt as if she could have snipped through railroad spikes if she had had to, given the surge of adrenaline.

  In less than half a minute, she had cut a slit in the fence four feet high. Shoving herself through the gap, she dropped the bolt cutters and started sprinting toward the building.

  “I have a lock on your brother, Jane. You will get him first when you’re inside.”

  Jane said nothing. She was trying to control her breathing, which wasn’t working well given that she never ran this fast.

  A minute passed.

  “I have a lock on your dad, Jane.”

  Jane felt like she was flying over the terrain with energy she didn’t know she had.

  A second minute passed.

  The dry air burned her lungs, but she kept her pace, breathing quickly and feeling her teeth freeze in the cold air.

  A third minute passed.

  Jane’s lungs and throat were on fire. Her legs and abdomen started to burn from the acid building up, and her heart was pounding in her chest.

  “Mom?” Jane whispered.

  “I don’t have a lock on your mom, Jane. If she’s in there, I haven’t found her.”

  Jane’s heart sank a little, and for a second she felt herself slow, but with renewed strength, she pushed herself even harder. Tears from the cold, dry air and the exertion started to trickle out of the corners of her eyes, down the sides of her face.

  A fourth minute passed.

  The building with the enormous 23 painted on the side was getting bigger and bigger, and Jane could see a cluster of utility boxes off to her right, near the service entrance she needed to get to. She was squinting, her eyes nearly dried out from the air. Her lungs felt like they might revolt. Her legs started to cramp, and her hands began to shake.

  Jane gritted her teeth and pushed herself harder.

  A fifth minute passed.

  Jane was within a hundred yards of the utility boxes and the service entrance. She could hear herself breathing, but she felt like she wasn’t getting any oxygen.

  “Jane, a guard came outside through a door in the wall to your left. Keep running. I don’t think he has seen you.”

  Panicked, Jane glanced over her shoulder. Against the wall, about two hundred yards away, she could see the silhouette of a man illuminated under the safety lights. Jane glanced up at the moon. She hoped he couldn’t see her in the darkness but knew he may have, given how bright it was. With a final burst of energy at the thought of getting caught, Jane bolted to the back side of the utility boxes and nearly collapsed.

  “Jane, he must have seen you. He’s running toward you right now!”

  Jane was gulping air, bent over and holding the side of the box for strength. Her heart felt like it might crack her ribs, it was beating so hard. Quickly she unsnapped the holster, drew her pulse gun, and crouched down on one knee behind the box. She didn’t want to kill the guard, especially knowing that wouldn’t end well for her if she was caught.

  She still couldn’t hear his footsteps over her labored breathing, and she found herself cutting the air to her aching lungs, holding her breath for seconds at a time, trying to hear him approaching.

  “Jane, he’s coming! He’s about ten seconds away. It looks like he’s coming around from the west.”

  Jane clicked off the safety on her pistol and stood up, stepping just far enough away from the box so she could move more freely.

  Seconds later, Jane heard the heavy footsteps of the guard as he ran up to the other side of the utility box.

  “Jane, you have to abort. Shoot the guard and run. The sentry is regaining control of the security systems!”

  Jane’s eyes were wide with terror, and she was holding her breath waiting for the guard to come around the side of the box.

  Seconds later, the alarms went off in the building.

  “Jane, he’s coming—”

  Jane heard the heavy thud of a foot on the metal box above her head.

  “—over the top!”

  Jane wheeled around, trying to train her pistol on the shadow streaking across the corner of her eye. She pulled the trigger, heard the crack of the pistol, and in what seemed like one fluid motion, the guard landed, ripped the pistol from her hand, and had spun her around backward as easily as if she had been a toy doll.

  A split second later, before Jane could even let out a gasp, he had slapped his hand firmly over her mouth and had his brutish arm wrapped around her neck.

  Jane flailed for a second, trying to pull the hand from her mouth. The guard dug his hip into the small of her back and leaned backward. Jane felt her whole spine stretch and her rib cage constrict her lungs. She was completely helpless but continued to pull at his arm, trying to get air as she felt herself start to lose consciousness.

  FELON

  “Jane, stop fighting!”

  Over the ringing of the alarms and even though her body was going limp from oxygen deprivation, Jane finally realized that this beast of a guard was talking to her—had been talking to her for at least the amount of time he had been working to knock her out.

  “Jane, stop! It’s me—Marcus. Agent Kline. Stop struggling or you’re gonna pass out.”

  The words finally registered in Jane’s foggy brain, and she hung from her neck loosely on his arm, like clothes on a line.

  Instantly, Jane felt him release his grip, and he quickly sat her down in the dirt against the box. Jane sucked in air but still felt foggy and pushed her palms into the dirt to help herself sit up straight. In the skirmish, Jane had lost her glasses in the dirt and was having trouble seeing his face clearly in the shadows.

  Jane felt him touch her chin and gently lift her face toward his but was immediately blinded by the small penlight he was shining in her eyes.

  “You’ll be okay in a minute, Jane,” he said, clicking off the light and gently releasing her chin. “Just keep breathing.”

  The alarm continued to ring in the building behind her, and Jane felt her own agitation grow as blood and oxygen
resuscitated her brain.

  “Is there anyone else with you?” Marcus asked, quickly glancing over his shoulder toward the building.

  Jane shook her head, now able to see his face more clearly, her eyes having adjusted.

  “Is your shuttle close by?”

  Jane nodded. “Yes,” she added quietly.

  “Are you feeling better?”

  Jane could see his face more clearly now. Even in the shadows, the moonlight illuminated the touch of silver in the temples of his hair. She could see his sturdy jaw, his relaxed brow, and even though he was obviously concerned about the alarm going off in the building, in the moment, he stared straight into her eyes as if her answer to his question mattered more.

  Shaking off his stare, she sat up straight. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine.” Jane looked at Marcus again. “What are you doing? I mean, what are you going to do with me?”

  Marcus stood up and offered Jane his hand. “I’m going to help you. You’re here to rescue your dad, right?”

  “Yes, and my brother,” Jane said, placing her hand in his and letting him pull her to her feet. “But why would you do that?”

  Marcus had glanced again quickly at the building door he had come through.

  “I work for your dad,” he said, still staring at the door.

  Jane narrowed her eyes and shook her head as if she wasn’t sure she was hearing correctly. “What?”

  Marcus quickly returned his gaze to her. “Look, I can make this situation work for us, but we don’t have much time, and I don’t have time to explain. You need to trust me.”

  “Jane,” Evelyn whispered through the earbud, “I don’t have any record of Agent Kline ever having a conversation with your dad before they met on Vista. He could be lying to you.”

  Jane looked Marcus in the eyes for a second, only half trying to convince herself not to go along with him but couldn’t. “Fine,” she said, ignoring Evelyn’s counsel.

  Marcus had already pulled out his communicator from his pocket and looking at the screen, tapped his earbud.

  “Agent Kline, Marcus,” he began, “stand down on security system alarm. I have the trespasser in custody.”

  Not a second later, the alarm in the building stopped.

  “Hurry, Jane, give me your weapons.”

  Jane felt her gut tighten. Suddenly she wasn’t sure she liked where this was going. Marcus had already moved to retrieve her pulse gun and her glasses from the dirt. Tucking the pistol into his belt behind his back, he handed her glasses back to her.

  “Come on, Jane, give me the gun and put the glasses back on.”

  Reluctantly Jane undid the buckle on her belt, gripping an end in one hand, and let the holsters fall from her waist.

  Grabbing the belt from her hand, Marcus slung it over his shoulder and pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt behind his back. “Put out your hands.”

  “You must be joking.”

  “Look, Jane,” Marcus countered, his steely gaze and even tone locking her feet to the ground, “if I don’t put these on you, someone else will, and they’ll put them on a lot tighter. I’ll leave them loose enough that you can pull your hands out—but see that you don’t, unless you absolutely have to.”

  Convinced she didn’t like this plan, she raised her hands anyway. Marcus quickly clasped the handcuffs around her wrists. The cold metal warmed against her bare wrists. They seemed tight enough not to draw suspicion but loose enough that Jane figured she would be able to get free without much effort.

  Turning toward the building, Marcus grabbed her arm below her shoulder and started walking briskly toward the security entrance he had come through.

  “Just remember, you’re in my custody. Don’t say anything if you can help it and just play along. When I can find a moment, I’ll get your dad and your brother.”

  “What about my mom? Did my dad find her?”

  Marcus looked at her with a confused look. “What? Your mom is in here too?”

  Jane stopped and shook her arm loose from Marcus. “If you work for my dad, how do you not know he came here looking for my mom?”

  “I don’t know,” Marcus said with a shrug. “He didn’t say anything to me about her.”

  “Jane,” Evelyn whispered again. “I don’t trust him. Just say the word and I’ll bring the shuttle in.”

  “Does your dad always tell you everything he’s up to?” Marcus added, more as a statement than as a question.

  Jane looked more closely at Marcus. If he was up to something, he was hiding it well; she couldn’t find a reason in his expression to not believe him.

  “No,” Jane said as she turned back toward the building and continued walking. “He never does.”

  “Listen, if your mom is in here, your dad will never find her. None of the detainees are listed by name, only by serial number, and it’s not in an accessible database. Only one person inside knows who is who. I think I can find out where she is, if she’s in here, but that’s going to change things. I’ll need some time. I’m going to have to stick you in a holding cell.”

  They walked briskly for a few seconds.

  “You better not be lying to me, Marcus. If you are, I won’t miss you a second time,” Jane added, referring to her errant shot with the pulse gun just minutes before.

  Marcus looked at her with a knowing grin. “I have no doubt about that, Jane.” Pausing for a second, he continued. “I’m really glad you missed, though. Those pulse guns won’t kill you, but after twenty minutes of constant electrocution, believe me, you wish you were dead.”

  They were just steps away from the security door. It didn’t appear to have any kind of handle, and as with the wall, it was black and would have nearly been invisible had it not been for the number 23 painted in white at eye level.

  In the midst of her prison march, second-guessing her decision to be placed into a cell voluntarily, something curious occurred to Jane.

  “How did you know I was out here anyway? Evelyn hacked into the security system. She said nobody could see me.”

  “I had a feeling you might try to come for your dad, and I wanted to make sure I got to you before someone else did, so I put up my own little surveillance system.”

  Jane remembered the video of her brother in the church taken from the bug on her shoulder.

  “More mosquitos?” Jane asked, glancing at Marcus with a knowing look.

  Marcus returned her look with one of surprise. “And how do you know about those?”

  Jane returned her gaze to the door. “You’re not as smart as you think,” she said with a grin of her own.

  “You better hope I am, Jane,” Marcus countered. “Otherwise, we’re both in a lot of trouble.”

  They stepped to the black door, and as they did, a red light showered them from a spot in the wall about twenty feet up. It scanned Marcus and Jane, and then she heard the bolt in the door slide. The door opened on its own. Looking at the profile of the door as it opened, she could see that it was easily six inches thick, and it appeared to be made of solid steel. Even though the facility looked like a big warehouse, it obviously was built to withstand much more than the onslaught of a five-foot-six, hundred-twenty-pound angry blond billion-heiress. Jane shook her head, feeling naïve and foolish that she had dared to think she might have pulled this off alone.

  “Remember,” Marcus whispered, as Jane felt him put his hand on the small of her back, gently pushing her inside, “I’ll come get you as soon as I can. Just—stay—calm.”

  Jane didn’t like being told to stay calm, because it usually meant there was going to be something that would make her want to behave otherwise. She stumbled forward a bit and turned to look over her shoulder at Marcus with her eyebrow raised, irritated that he would have mentioned staying calm in the same moment he was pushing her into a prison, but she couldn’t catch his eye.

  In contrast to the black exterior, the interior of the facility was well lit. Jane found herself walking down a long corridor lined on both side
s with mirrored glass windows, which she suspected was two-way glass. It was sterile looking, having white walls, a concrete floor and ceiling, and no doors down its entire length, which looked to be fifty feet long at the least.

  Jane walked stiffly, growing more uncomfortable and self-conscious with each step and wondering how many guards were ogling her from behind the glass.

  After what seemed an eternity, they finally came to the end of the hallway, and Jane noticed that it opened into a circular room with a circular metal platform in the center. Unlike the hallway they had just walked through, there were two doors on either side of them, still with no handles, and a section of two-way glass opposite the hallway.

  Walking into the room, Marcus led Jane to the metal platform in the middle, and as soon as she stepped on it, she was blinded by a red light emanating from the ceiling above, scanning her from head to toe, just like the one outside the door.

  “Agent, identify yourself,” came the booming baritone electronic voice, completely catching Jane off guard and causing her to list, given she was having a hard time seeing.

  “Agent Kline, Marcus. Security identification two, four, seven, nine, one, nine, alpha, with detainee for temporary holding.”

  “Agent, remove the cap and glasses from the detainee,” boomed the voice.

  Marcus stepped on the platform and gently lifted the cap from Jane’s head with one hand and the glasses from her face with the other. As he stepped backward off the platform, Jane was immediately blinded by the scanner again.

  “Detainee identified,” boomed the electronic voice, again startling Jane. “Citizen Philips, Jane. Detainee for incarceration.”

  “Incarceration?” Marcus nearly shouted at the glass behind her. “On what charge?”

  The electronic voice read off the charges. “Felony, possession of a firearm. Felony, endangerment. Felony, trespassing. Felony, failure to file a travel plan.”

  Jane listened to the charges against her, her heart sinking and her stomach turning over. Looking into Marcus’s eyes and hearing the tone in his voice a moment ago, it was clear he hadn’t expected this. Even so, he was staying calm, and she was going to also. Defiantly Jane stiffened her back and blanked the expression on her face.