Still crouched behind the counter, Hockey Mask shouts at a man fifteen metres behind him. ‘How long till it’s open?’
This guy has no shirt on his heavily tattooed back but wears large safety goggles over his eyes. ‘Thirty seconds!’ He trains a flaming welding torch on the lock of a holding cell door, egged on by three prisoners inside. On a small cart beside him are the cylinders of oxygen and acetylene that feed the torch.
One of the uniform cops, stunned by the explosion but still alive, drags himself across the ground towards a 9mm pistol.
Hockey Mask dives his hand into the open, oversized duffle bag beside him, drags out another chainsaw, yanks the ripcord to start it and hurls it across the room. It spirals through the air, engine screaming, and lands a metre in front of the police officer. He reaches out, grabs it to throw it back -
Ka-boom! It detonates and blows the poor bastard to pieces.
Smash, thud, crash. Judd and Corey take cover as another wave of shrapnel slams into the elevator.
Judd winces. ‘Oh, man. Really wish I hadn’t seen that.’
Hockey Mask and Safety Goggles turn to see Judd and Corey in the elevator. And Judd and Corey see them.
‘Damn it!’ Corey jams his thumb into the door-close button again and keeps it there. ‘Come on!’
Nothing happens.
‘Continuing to push it isn’t going to make it work!’
‘You got a better idea, I’m all ears.’
Safety Goggles draws a pistol and swings it towards the elevator. The prisoners in the holding cell cheer him on.
‘Jesus!’ Corey turns to Judd. ‘Use the gun.’
‘The what?’
He points at Judd’s back. ‘The gun! Use the bloody gun!’
‘Oh Christ, that’s right!’ Judd had forgotten all about Ponytail’s pistol. He drags it from his belt, aims it out the elevator’s doors and fires once.
The bullet slams into the oxy-welder’s acetylene cylinder.
Boom. It detonates. The explosion isn’t as big as either of the chainsaws but it’s big enough, smacks Safety Goggles flat to the ground, knocks him out cold. The deflated prisoners in the holding cell let out a disappointed groan.
Hockey Mask takes in what just happened, then disappears behind the booking counter again. It’s silent for a long moment - then a buzz-scream cuts across the room.
Judd and Corey watch Hockey Mask rise from behind the booking counter and hurl a chainsaw towards them.
Time slows.
Corey turns to Judd. ‘We gotta close the doors!’ He grabs the door on his side and pushes it shut as Judd does the same on his side. They slide towards each other - slowly.
The shrieking machine spirals directly towards them.
It’s larger than the others.
Judd and Corey frantically push the doors closed.
But it’s taking too long.
The roaring chainsaw is halfway there.
And the doors are only halfway shut.
Judd’s hands slip on the polished metal as he pushes for all his worth. ‘Must go faster!’
The chainsaw is right there.
The doors slam shut.
Thump. The chainsaw lands on the ground inside the elevator. Its engine thunders as its exhaust turns a deep purple.
Time speeds up.
Judd and Corey frantically pull the doors open.
They won’t budge.
Corey pivots to the chainsaw, kneels, finds the ON/OFF switch, flicks it.
It doesn’t work. The engine still runs. ‘The switch has been disabled.’
They stare at the machine for a terrible moment.
‘I’ll pour out the gas.’
Judd shakes his head. ‘Won’t work. It’s in the fuel lines. You’d have to flush the whole system.’
They look at each other.
‘The counteragent!’ They say it at exactly the same time. Judd grabs the canister from his jacket as Corey twists off the chainsaw’s fuel cap.
Judd stares at the keypad built into the lid of the counteragent’s aluminium canister. ‘What was the code again?’ He can’t remember the number the dying guy told him. ‘724?’
Corey can’t remember it either. ‘742?’
‘No, 274!’ Judd punches in the numbers. With a heavy click and a swoosh of compressed air the canister’s lid unlocks. Judd flips it open.
‘Quick!’ Corey holds up the screaming chainsaw.
Judd tilts the canister towards the fuel tank’s filler neck. ‘How much?’
‘Just pour it in!’
Judd sloshes half a cup of the counteragent into the tank. Corey places the chainsaw in the far corner of the elevator and they stand back, side by side, eyes locked on the exhaust. It turns black and the engine note sounds like rocks in a blender.
Corey takes a breath. ‘I’m starting to think coming down here was a bad idea.’
Judd almost smiles.
The exhaust is pitch black.
The engine runs rough.
Then it doesn’t - and the exhaust clears.
They exhale, long and deep, more relieved than words can express. Corey rubs his face. ‘Far out. Well, the upside is that we now know the counteragent works, so that’s nice.’
Judd presses the ground floor button. No joy. The elevator does not move. ‘Now we just have to find a way out of here.’
Corey looks up at the wood-panelled ceiling, then down at the running chainsaw, then up at the ceiling again. ‘Got an idea.’
*
The roaring chainsaw blade slices into the ceiling’s wood panelling, cuts out a large square piece that drops to the floor.
Corey rests a foot on the railing that rings the elevator and propels himself up through the hole. Once on the elevator’s roof he reaches down, grabs Judd’s hand and helps him up. He carries the still-running chainsaw with him.
Corey looks at it. ‘Really?’
Judd shrugs. ‘I got a feeling it’s gonna come in handy.’ As he says it the chainsaw runs out of gas and cuts out.
The Australian moves to the right wall, where a series of small metal rungs have been cemented into the shaft and act as a service ladder. ‘Excellent.’ He quickly climbs the rungs towards the ground floor elevator doors. ‘Never been in a lift shaft before. We call them “lifts” in Oz, by the way.’
Judd is just behind him. ‘I’ve been in one.’
‘Really? When was that?’
‘Just before Atlantis was hijacked - would’ve loved a ladder built into the wall that night.’ Remembering shuttle Atlantis immediately makes Judd think about its commander, his partner, Rhonda. ‘Man, I hope Rho’s okay.’
‘When’s she due to land?’
Judd glances at his Ploprof. ‘In just over an hour.’
‘Word will be out about what’s happening here, mate. I’m sure they’ve already landed a couple of states away and she’s sitting in the airport lounge, sipping a crappy latte, pissed off that she has to listen to Severson bang on about some nonsense.’
Judd nods hopefully, wishes it were true, knows in his heart she would have called him if it was.
They reach the ground-floor elevator doors. Corey grabs one and forces it open. He pokes his head out, checks there are no chainsaw-wielding mofos about, and slides out. He reaches back and helps Judd up.
*
As soon as he’s on his feet Judd pulls out his iPhone and dials Rhonda. It goes to voicemail. He hangs up, tries not to worry about her, fails miserably.
Paws click on the marble floor as Spike bounds towards them and lets out a sharp bark.
Corey pats him on the head. ‘Let me just say this: I want to leave this place and never return.’
They head straight for the bikes, which are right where they left them. Judd rests the chainsaw across his handlebars and they run-roll them onto the street, hop on and start to pedal, the dog right behind.
Corey turns to Judd. ‘We need to find another cop shop, tell them what happened here.’
Judd nods but his mind is elsewhere. ‘I gotta work out the MHS thing.’ He glances at his watch. ‘Man, forty minutes. MHS. It’s - I know what it is - it’s right there - I just can’t put my finger on it.’
‘If only there were a service that could instantly answer annoyingly difficult questions like this.’ Corey looks at Judd, then nods at the phone in his hand. ‘I believe some call it “Google”.’ He throws in a pair of ironic air quotes on “Google”.
Judd glances at the phone and stops pedalling. ‘Worth a try.’ He swipes open his phone, thinks about it. ‘I should search, what - MHS Los Angeles.’
*
‘Good place to start.’ Corey decides to help him search for it and stops too. He reaches into his back pocket, draws out Bowen’s iPhone and looks at the screen.
Lola called - and left a message. The mute button was switched on so he didn’t know it rang. Even though the call isn’t for him he feels a buzz in his chest. The intensity of his excitement surprises him. He’s desperate to hear her voice and to know she’s okay. He’s not surprised she called Matty. Not only did she work for the guy but they were great mates.
Jeez, he’ll have to tell her what happened to him.
Spike barks.
‘What? I’m fine. Nothing.’
Judd looks up from his phone. ‘Why is your face flushed?’
‘No, it isn’t. What?’ Corey tries to play dumb and again fails miserably.
‘You look like a beetroot. Who called?’
‘Umm, well… Lola. She left a message.’
Judd stares at him blankly for a moment. ‘The one whose boyfriend is Steve Ford?’
‘Scott Ford, and thanks for the reminder.’
‘You’re going to call her back?’
‘I’m not, I mean I just…’ He trails off.
‘As long as you’re clear about it.’
Corey’s head drops to his chest. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘Nothing is what you do. She has a boyfriend. She blew you off.’ Judd looks back at his iPhone. ‘Why are you even thinking about it?’
‘Because when I’m with her it feels - right, like I don’t have to do it all on my own. I’ve never felt that way before. I think I should tell her and see where the chips fall.’
‘But you know where they fall. They fall on “I have a boyfriend who is the biggest movie star in the world so thanks for dropping by and don’t let the door hit you in the arse on the way out”.’
Corey takes this in unhappily.
‘I don’t mean to sound like a dickhead again, but, really, you don’t want to get hurt, or, you know —’ He says it in a low voice, ‘—embarrassed again, do you?’
Corey listens, but his finger still hovers over the iPhone’s screen. Does he play the message or not?
Judd watches him. ‘Let it go, Blades.’ He looks back at his own iPhone’s screen then takes in a sharp breath. ‘Of course.’
‘What?’
‘I know what MHS means.’
‘And?’
‘It’s short for Moreno High School. I played baseball there when I was a kid. T-ball actually. That’s where I know it from.’
‘Why would they - what would be happening at a high school?’
‘That’s what I’m going to find out —’ He glances at his watch, ‘—in thirty-eight minutes.’
‘You’re going there?’
‘Of course.’
‘Shouldn’t we tell the cops? About, you know - what happened here?’ He nods at the Beverly Hills Police Station in the distance.
‘You can. I have to do this.’
‘You sure that’s a good idea?’
‘Absolutely not. It could work out really badly, or I could be going to the wrong place, but if something is going down I don’t wanna be standing around twiddling my thumbs at some police station.’
‘You’re doing it again.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Acting like you’re the only one on the planet who can fix anything, like it’s your personal responsibility. You’ve been doing it all day.’
‘I just need to do what’s right.’
‘We all need to do that, mate. What’s going on with you? And you need to be fair dinkum with me.’
‘I still don’t really understand what that means.’
‘It means different things at different times, but right now it means tell me the truth.’
Judd stares ahead. ‘It’s embarrassing.’
‘Spill it.’
‘Right.’ It’s difficult to say. ‘I just - since - the incident at Imax, I’ve felt - like a fraud.’
It’s not what Corey was expecting to hear. ‘What?’
‘The heroic Judd Bell of the fabled Atlantis 4, unable to deal with a single terrorist, couldn’t even come up with a plan, cowering behind a car with a shotgun pointed at his face.’
‘That’s why you’ve been running around like a chook with its head cut off, trying to save everyone?’
Judd nods. ‘Pretty much, though “chook with its head cut off” seems a tad harsh. I guess, I don’t know, I’m - I’m trying to make up for it, be the man the world thinks I am.’
‘I didn’t have a plan either, mate. Neither did Rhonda. We were all dead if Severson didn’t turn up, so don’t beat yourself up about it.’
Judd takes it in with a nod, but Corey can tell he doesn’t quite believe it. The Australian looks at the iPhone in his hand again. Curiosity gets the better of him and he plays Lola’s message.
It’s not good. Her voice is reed thin, like she’s in pain. She’s trapped in a building on Doheny, her leg caught under something heavy. He can’t quite work out what it is because the sound is distant and echoey, but she’s asking Bowen for help.
Concerned, Corey instantly returns the call. It goes straight to voicemail. ‘Bugger.’
Judd turns to him, notices his strained expression. ‘Everything okay?’
Corey shakes his head. ‘Lola needs help. She’s trapped in a building.’
‘What? Christ.’
‘I need to go there.’
‘Where?’
‘Doh-Don- Don Henley?’
‘Doheny Drive. Know how to get there?’
‘Just follow the map app.’ Corey works the iPhone screen, swiftly finds the location.
‘Be careful. LA’s a shark pit, if you hadn’t noticed.’
‘I just spent fifteen minutes dodging exploding chainsaws. I noticed.’
Judd gestures to the chainsaw that lies across his handlebars. ‘Do you want to take this? In case.’
‘Had more than enough of those for one day.’
‘What about the pistol?’
Corey shakes his head. ‘Better if you have it, I think. In case.’
Judd nods. ‘Okay. Just - let me give you my number.’ Corey passes over the iPhone and Judd taps his digits into the address book, then passes it back. ‘Be careful.’
‘Yes, Mother. Second time you said that. I’ll be fine.’
They exchange a nod, but it’s difficult to say goodbye. To lighten the moment Corey gestures to the bulge in his pants. ‘Is that a canister of counteragent in my pocket or am I just happy to be leaving?’
Judd thinks about it, then grimaces. ‘That was just weird.’
‘It was, wasn’t it? It was meant to be funny but ended up being gross.’
Judd grins. ‘I’ll see you.’
Corey returns it. ‘Not if I see you first.’ He thinks about it. ‘And what does that mean, anyway? Why does it matter if I see you first if we’re both seeing each other at the same time?’ He pedals off, wobbles violently, finds his balance, increases his pace and rides away. ‘Come on, dog.’ Spike gallops after him.
*
Judd watches them go, then rides off in the opposite direction, consults the map on his phone for the fastest route to his destination, then builds speed quickly.
He doesn’t feel great about letting Corey ride off on his own. He worries a
bout him like he would a kid brother, feels responsible. After all, he’s the one who brought him to this country in the first place.
Judd takes in the road, astounded by the amount of destruction. He doesn’t know what he’ll find when he reaches the school, but hopes he’s up for the challenge. He can feel the weight of the pistol in his jacket pocket. He’s glad he has the weapon with him.
*
Corey pedals the bike so hard Spike has trouble keeping up.
The dog barks.
‘Well, you’ll just have to lift, won’t you? We’re in a rush. There’s no time for a rest stop.’
Another bark.
‘I miss having the chopper, too.’ He doesn’t add that he’s not sure if he’d be able to fly it even if he had one.
Another bark.
‘No, I’ve never seen a “shark pit”.’
Another bark.
‘I guess it’s like a snake pit but worse, because it has sharks.’
Another bark.
‘I don’t know. It must be full of water otherwise the sharks would be dead and that wouldn’t be scary, it’d be sad.’
The Australian takes in the road before him, littered with smoking wrecks and displaced people. The number of buildings and houses on fire is the biggest surprise. He keeps an eye out for any vehicle with a dark exhaust, though it looks like every car has already exploded, is on fire or has been abandoned.
The dog barks once again.
Corey glances at the map app on the iPhone. ‘Not far.’ He stops pedalling and freewheels past a line of wrecks that litter Doheny, the bike’s gears ticking furiously, and scans the road before him. ‘Where is it?’
He sees it in the distance, the towering white building with the large blue stripe Lola mentioned in her voice message. It’s not that far away -
Boom. The explosion is enormous, blows him off the bike and knocks him clean across the sidewalk. He hits a building ten metres away, then slumps to the ground. It feels like he’s been bitch-slapped by Goliath.
His head throbs and his ears ring. He opens his eyes. His vision is blurred. Smoke cloaks the road. He can just make out the burning wreckage of the car that exploded on the opposite side of the street. He pulls himself up unsteadily, the bike crumpled against a shopfront, both wheels buckled, the iPhone smashed on the sidewalk in front of him. He can feel something licking his ankle. He turns to look at it, but his eyelids get very heavy very quickly and he needs to have a little lie down. He rests his head on the warm pavement and can’t help but think Judd was right: he really needs to be careful. Maybe if the astronaut had told him a third time he would have paid better attention.
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