by TJ Martinell
He eyed me; both of us agreed. She had used up her usefulness.
Her head flew back as a bullet entered her skull. She fell backwards onto the ground. The indifference emanating from her countenance hung in the air like a bad stench, and then disappeared.
Tom fired two more shots into her sternum, then put the gun away. I stooped down and took Dr. Vurgel’s Prizm.
Cutman, still holding my father up, called out to us.
“What did you do?” he asked.
“What needed to be done,” I said.
“We have to free my father,” Jean said, standing in front of his cell. “I will not leave without him.”
“Don’t make this hard, kid,” Tom said to her. “He ain’t comin’ with us.”
“I will not leave him! I will never leave him!”
Tom grabbed Jean and forced her to look down at Dr. Vurgel’s corpse. He wasn’t angry, at least not at her. His voice was stern, but sympathetic.
“We wait any longer, we’ll end up like her,” he said.
She returned to the cell and spoke quickly to the man. It was unclear if he could understand her rapid speech. She then turned to me and told me to come over as the man came out of the shadows. His bruised lips moved one final time, silently offering his cryptic message before he retreated into the darkness.
“Leave everything you love most dearly. Let the god of war claim his rightful prize.”
Jean flung herself at the glass and called for him. I seized her by the hand and pulled her back to where Tom had taken my father from Cutman.
“Won’t the guard notice Dr. Vurgel is dead?” Cutman asked.
“We’ll kill him, too,” Tom said.
“How many people do you intend to kill before this is through?”
“I don’t have a set quota, if that’s what you mean. But I’m not restricting myself, either.”
“The security office houses the surveillance footage. We knock out the guard, dismantle the footage, then try to cover it up from there.”
We went to the door for the security room. I stood beside him, my gun readied. Cutman got the guard to open it. I forced myself inside and ordered him to drop his weapon and shot him when he refused. Commandeering his pistol and the handful of magazines for it, I grabbed a spare duffel bag and slung it over my shoulder, then helped Tom bring my father into the room.
Jean searched the pistols and loaded one with cartridges from the cabinet. We all snatched the collapsible bulletproof shields stacked in the corner and attached them to our belts. Cutman hurried to the data storage system in the corner and attempted to use his Prizm to access it on the server. He tapped his head impatiently as he paced around. He then waved at us, saying the video footage had been erased.
When we reached the elevator, the light above the door lit up. A small ding rang loudly like a clock tower bell.
The door opened.
A group of ISA officers appeared, all with rifles in their hands.
They stepped out and moved to the side, making way for their commanding officer, who exited the elevator and stopped to gaze at us.
My heart stopped when I saw Casey standing there, allowing the elevator door to silently close behind him. His small mouth opened, refusing a hint of any surprise in as he looked at Cutman, then at Tom and Jean. Then me.
“What are you doing here?” Cutman asked.
“Could I ask the same of you?”
The full weight of Cutman’s authority poured into his voice.
“Not if you wish to avoid my displeasure,” he said.
Had it just been the four of us, Casey might have stood down and submitted to a superior officer. For all he knew, I could have been working undercover. But my father, slumped over Tom’s shoulder, unwittingly gave away our intent.
My intent.
“What brought you here?” Cutman insisted as he stepped closer. “I’m ordering you to answer me.”
“We were ordered here by Director Kaufman,” Casey replied. “He said a mole working for one of the newspapers was here at this facility. He ordered me to arrest the individual and bring him and his cohorts back to the office for questioning.”
“Well, he obviously isn’t here.”
Casey stared at his superior intently, daring to take a short step forward himself.
“Who else has been here this morning?” he inquired.
“I wouldn’t know,” Cutman replied. “Ask Beatrice, the woman at the front desk.”
“She said Dr. Vurgel accompanied you. Where is she?”
“She left to attend to other matters.”
“Where?”
“She didn’t say.”
“Who is that, may I ask?” he asked as he pointed at my father.
“I’ve told you it is not your concern,” Cutman replied.
“I’m very sorry, sir,” he said, his tone firmer, “but I have been given authority by Director Kaufman. And as such I have a right to ask a legitimate question, especially when you have two known members of a notorious newspaper gang in your company.”
“What I’m doing here is above your clearance level and above your pay grade.”
Casey looked at me for an explanation, to assure him it was all a misunderstanding, a mistake. I had nothing to give him this time. Except the truth.
“You know why I am here,” I said. “I came for my father.”
The hallway was quiet. The guards turned to Casey, looking for a response that would give context to my statement.
“I told you we could get him my way,” he said.
I pointed back towards the room of cells. “Your way? Why don’t you go down there and take a look at what your way involved!”
Casey and I stood inches apart. Words slid down from his mind into his throat and onto his tongue. He parted his lips and licked them as he prepared to give the order.
One of the officers reacted prematurely, tried to bring his rifle up.
Didn’t have a chance. Tom snapped up his pistol and put a bullet between the man’s eyes. The other officers initially went for their guns, but Jean and I had our weapons out in front of us first. I ordered them to put their weapons down. They hesitated for a second before complying.
Casey stood still until Tom threatened to shoot him. He set his pistol down.
Jean collected their weapons, offering one to Cutman and myself. She took the rest of them and disabled the barrels by smashing them against the wall. I had the officers remove their Prizms and place them on the ground. Casey tried to ignore me, but my patiencewas at an end. I shoved my gun against his forehead as I ripped his Prizm away and threw it to Tom.
Cutman brought my father to the elevator. Jean moved the officers over to the wall and had them get down on their knees with their hands up and their faces facing the ground. I ordered Casey to do the same. He ignored me once more.
Tom rabbit punched him in the back of the neck. Casey dropped forward and fell at my feet. Barely able to keep him from hitting the floor head-first, I dragged him over to the wall, placing him on his back.
“Stop helping him,” Tom said sternly as he grabbed me and pulled me over to the elevator and ordered it to the surface.
For a moment, there was an inch left between the two sections before they collided. I got a glimpse of Casey picking himself up, glaring at me with a look I had never seen on him before.
The door had finally closed.
***
The elevator slowed down and then stopped abruptly before reaching the floor we sought.
Two dozen ISA officers were outside waiting earnestly.
“Where’s Senior Officer Nowak?” one of them said. “And why aren’t you getting my message?”
“What message?” Cutman asked.
The officer peered hard at him, bewildered. “You didn’t come with our group. I’m not identifying your account through our network.”
“I’m Deputy Director Cutman,” he sai
d. “Can’t you access my profile?”
The officer paused. Slowly, he let his free hand slid down to his side.
“Sir,” he said, “it seems there is an open order for your arrest.”
“By who?”
“Senior Officer Casey Nowak.”
Everyone looked at me. Tom took out the Prizm I had liberated from Casey and tossed it to me.
A fake.
Somehow, he had switched it before we had had the chance to take the real one.
Clever bastard.
The officer’s voice was strained.
“If you attempt to resist us, we will be forced to use whatever force necessary to―”
He was the first to go down as I fired from my hip. After the first blast, I dropped down to my knees and took aim, finishing off the rest as they headed down the corridor. Reloading, I finished off the wounded as they groaned and clutched their bellies.
As I stood over the dead, the red alarm lights in the ceiling flashed brilliantly and hidden speakers called out to us in a patronizing voice.
“Dear patients, we have had a breach of security. Please remain calm and do as you are ordered to by your nearby security personnel and staff. We hope to resolve the matter as quickly as possible. You are also encouraged to report any suspicious behavior by fellow patients and all others in the facility. If you see a suspicious person, do not confront them directly. Find a safe place to hide and cover your ears and wait for security to come get you. Have a nice day.”
Jean ran over to hallway on the right, but fell back when she encountered gunfire. She yelled to us that there was half a dozen of them.
“We can expect the same on the right,” Cutman said. He rushed to hallway and fired around the corner to the sound of screams as they ran back.
Tom carried my father as he followed me through the central hallway. Up ahead it broke into two separate corridors, leaving us perfectly exposed. Unable to find a good cover I paused to think. Then it occurred to me; our ISA uniforms made it impossible to tell who we were until it was too late.
I took one of the dead officers and dragged them through the hallway to where it parted into two sections. I then splattered some of his blood over my uniform and down next to him, sliding his leg over mine as I played dead. Picking up on my plan, Tom came in and hid just in time for more ISA officers to arrive. When they came across the two of us on the ground, one of them moved ahead to Tom’s position. The remaining officer reached down and checked the dead man’s pulse before reaching for his Prizm.
As he was trying to read my pulse I grabbed the pistol strapped underneath my uniform and fired into his face. A spray of blood fell on me. I jumped up and snatched my rifle, running back down the hallway. With their backs turned to me, it was too easy.
Tom appeared around the corner with my father in tow. He confirmed the officers’ fates with a shot to the head apiece. He deduced my plan, called out to Jean and Cutman and told them to follow us. They joined him and he told them to keep up but watch our backs.
“Can you figure out how many officers are here?” Tom asked Cutman.
“No. They’re using their own network. I’ve been locked out. It seems my true allegiance has been made well known.”
There was rueful quality in his voice. He feared the worst. His life had been destroyed in a matter of minutes. All the power, the privilege, the status. Gone.
Officers stormed around the corner in a foolhardy act of bravado. Jean hid behind the pile of corpses and laid down cover fire as we moved to the corridor on the right.
“How do we get out of here?” Tom said.
“We can’t head for the rooftop,” Cutman said. “I studied the building’s layout. No way to get down. The windows are too thick to break. Besides, we have no way to climb down. We have to get back to the car.”
We could hear more officers arriving down the hallway. I sprinted down the hallway and moved against the wall near the corner. On the opposite side there were six shadows moving forward. I caught them as they had their heads turned away and killed them in two short bursts.
Cutman came behind me and covered me as I ran up the hallway, scanning the windows. Outside, the long rolling hills were as bare and bleak as when we had arrived. It was a good sign, that no one outside the facility had been notified. The alarm activation, however, might have changed that.
“Does this facility have anyone to call for backup?” I asked.
“No way to know for sure,” Cutman replied. “I wouldn’t chance it, though. Our best hope is to get to the car. Once we’re out of here, I can handle all incoming calls. It’ll be a hell of a mess, but still manageable until we’re clear.”
Jean approached, carrying her riot shield in front of her. Tom was leaning forward slightly as he carried my father over to us. He was panting, craning his neck. I wanted to take my father off his shoulder, assume responsibility for him. I didn’t bother, knowing Tom would insist on it. Jean checked the rear and found no one. By then the red alarm lights blinking the siren wailing and that annoyingly toneless female voice was beginning to irritate us all.
I didn’t complain, though. Better to get out of there.
If not, we wouldn’t hear anything ever again.
***
The resistance in the rest of the facility proved weak. The security guards, unaccustomed to internal breaches, were unprepared to respond. They cowered when met with gunfire and made easy targets as they fled the rooms filled with unrestrained prisoners. For whatever reason, the facility personnel were absent.
Cutman finally gained access to the security system and erased all the surveillance footage. To our luck, his clearance had not yet been revoked completely.
I was in the lead making my way to the door when I looked over across the room on my left. A guard stood among the prisoners.
He fired.
I dropped to the floor and blacked out.
When I came to, Jean was calling my name. I struggled to get up and searched for the wound, realizing I hadn’t been hit. I looked over to my side and Cutman was on the ground beside me, one knee up as he looked at the bullet wound three inches from his heart. He attempted to lift himself up, but fell back and wheezed painfully.
I tried to pick him up so he could breathe. He clutched his chest and sighed nosily. His breaths were short and fast.
“Jean, get some bandages,” I said. “There should be some in your belt.”
Cutman stopped her.
“Don’t…waste your time on me,” he said. “I’m not going to make it.”
“Bullshit,” I said. “We’re getting you out of here.”
Tom covered us while Jean and I tried to get Cutman to his feet. We had him up on buckled legs but his feet gave way. I attempted to drag him on top of my shield, finding the surface was too rough to make it work. I then thought to carry him over my shoulder like Tom had my father, but he pushed me away.
“Leave me!” Cutman screamed. He took off his Prizm and handed it to me. “You won’t be able to access it…without alerting the office…but better you have it than they...perhaps one day…you will be able to…
“We’re not leaving you,” I said firmly. “We don’t abandon our friends.”
He smiled. “I don’t want to leave. It is my fault I didn’t do enough to stop it.”
“It isn’t the time for this.”
“You know I am to blame…we were all to blame…we knew what was happening…”
He looked up at the ceiling, his eyes widened and his smile large. He then looked at me, using the last of his strength to grab my uniform and pull me towards him. Even then, I could scarcely hear his whispering.
“Forgive me…I hope you can understand…like your father…
Cutman’s eyes turned away from me. His face fell into the shadows as it rested on the floor. His eyes were opened. Still smiling.
I looked at him one last time before joining Tom.
“Cutman’s dead.”
Tom ceased shooting and looked over his shoulder at Cutman, seemingly indifferent.
“Give me my father,” I said. “You’ve been carrying him too long.”
We didn’t have much farther to go. Past the security doors leading to the lobby, and we were free.
Beatrice was gone. Down the entrance steps, there were no guards outside. Now in open space, I huddled behind the steps and surveyed the road. No vehicles, other than the ones Casey and his men had brought.
“I will cover you both,” Jean said.
Tom moved to the other side of the steps to provide cover. He hopped over the side and sprinted for the car. I followed him, jumping as I grabbed onto the door handle and pulled it open. He placed my father in the back seat and got the engine started. I ran to the car and dove into the back, adding dual cover for Jean.
She was heading for the car when a stun grenade landed by her feet. I called out to warn her, but the grenade exploded before I could get out a word. Both Tom and I covered our ears in time, while she was thrown onto her face. When we looked back, she was sprawled across the ground, blood running down her ears. At first, I feared the worst. Then her legs moved a little.
Tom and I exchanged looks. He was as indifferent about it as with Cutman.
Leave her.
I got out of the car as Tom screamed at me. Blocking out his warnings, I picked her up and held her against my chest. She didn’t reply to my pleas to look at me.
Panic seized me. I couldn’t move.
Suddenly Tom loomed over me. With one hand, he tore me from her and in the same motion picked her up as he had done for my father and tossed her over his shoulder. He barked at me to get back in the car. There, I grabbed rifle to cover them.
Casey was at the top of the stairs, a sidearm in his hand. ISA officers poured out of the building on his left and right side, concentrating all their gunfire at Tom. Grabbing my shield, I rushed out towards them and held it up in front of Tom. Mindful to keep ourselves fully concealed behind the shield, we walked back to the car.
Hobbling to the car, Tom pushed Jean beside my father, then moved to the front passenger door. I took the shield and moved to the driver’s side of the door and held it up as I got in and crushed the accelerator with my heel.
