Andeal clenched his teeth and avoided Galen’s gaze. What had Henry done? He should have escaped while he could. Saved himself.
Fake pleasantness had vanished from the scientist’s tone—a rare occurrence, never a good sign. Galen grabbed the back of Andeal’s head and forced him to meet his eyes.
“My men will hunt him down and bring back his body riddled with holes. Just like his father’s. I’m done with the Schmitts.”
Mention of Henry’s father brought angry bile to Andeal’s throat. How much had Lenz given to free Andeal, and Maniel, and unravel the truth about the Clarin twins? First his son, then his freedom, and finally his life. All for nothing. They had failed him. They’d failed everyone, really. He was surprised Henry still fought at all. He’d always been rather stubborn.
“You’d be surprised what Henry can do.”
Galen replied with a scoff. “I’ve read a detailed report that qualified him as clueless and incapable. It was wrong about his role in your little joke but I am confident in this evaluation of his skills.”
“It’s those you don’t expect who are the most dangerous.”
“We’ll see.” After a dismissive shrug, Galen straightened up, pulling Andeal by his hair in the same movement. The engineer moaned from the sudden pain, like a bolt of lightning through his neck. “You lied to me. That’s a bad habit to have.”
The meager defiance Andeal had summoned to defend Henry vanished. He cowered against the wall, a lump of solid fear in his throat. He knew that soft, angry tone, like a father with a disobeying child. It starts now, he thought, and it never ends. His breathing turned into a hiss. Galen patted his cheek.
“Let’s be honest, here. I haven’t done any human testing in the last, oh, three years? I was rather busy chasing your group.” Galen lifted Andeal’s left hand, placed it over a section of wall devoid of pipes, then spread his fingers, one by one. “What we’ll be doing together is torture, plain and simple. We’ll still call it science, though. It looks good on paper and I find it amusing. Do hold still.”
Andeal obeyed, too confused about Galen’s intention to rebel. It had always been torture to him, but the scientist’s cool admission added a layer of horror to it. What could he have planned that even Galen refused to consider science? Andeal fought his growing nausea. He had to pay attention. Every mistake would worsen his case. The scientist stepped back twice before he seemed satisfied with Andeal’s position. He remained still for a few seconds, studying his prisoner. Andeal’s heart sped as he waited for his sentence.
Galen’s hand flew to his pistol without warning and he shot. Andeal withdrew his hand with a surprised yelp and the bullet hit the wall. Tiny shards of plaster stung his skin as he brought the hand close and held it against his torso. Andeal panted, eyes wide, stunned. Galen lowered his firearm with a slow shake of his head. Now even his smile had vanished. Moving was a mistake. He should have let the scientist shoot his fingers.
“I told you to hold still,” Galen scolded. “I’m a bit rusty and if your Henry is as dangerous as you say, I need to practice.” He gave a dramatic sigh and moved to a table buried under construction tools. His hand drifted over them before landing on an electric drill. “Now I’ll have to screw it on.”
Andeal choked on a sob. He tugged on his manacled hand several times, pulling as hard as he could, the metal chafing his skin. What was he thinking? Never defy an order from Galen. The payoff wasn’t worth it. Andeal’s gaze landed on the drill and tears ran down his cheeks.
“Please…”
“You should’ve thought about it,” Galen snapped back. “Now stop fighting or I’ll end up nailing every part of your body to the concrete.”
Galen Clarin approached with his drill, grabbed Andeal’s hand, and slammed it against the wall, over the bullet hole. Uncontrollable shudders ran through Andeal’s body and he feared Galen would mistake them for a fight. The tears blurred his sight but he gasped as a cold tip touched the middle of his palm. The screw. Andeal blinked the tears away, tried to slow his breathing and steel himself. Galen powered the drill mid-air—a terrifying, warning whir before the screw’s pressure in his palm increased. Andeal shut his eyes tight. The cold metal jerked when Galen settled the drill in place.
Then he pressed the button.
Metal dug into Andeal’s palm and sent waves of crippling agony through his body. He screamed. At least he thought he screamed. The drill’s noise tore through his ears and pain flared all his senses. Andeal’s legs kicked out despite his efforts to keep still while his stomach climbed all the way back to his throat, threatening to eject itself. It lasted a few eternal seconds, then stopped as abruptly as it’d started.
Andeal slumped and hung, his legs devoid of strength. Gasping sobs interrupted his panting and he couldn’t stop either. He flexed his fingers, moaned at the flashing pain in his palm. He felt both numbed and strangely conscious of every part of his body—the blood running down his sleeve, the bitter aftertaste in his mouth, the throbbing in his heels after too many hits against the wall. It was all there, close to his mind but paling compared to the cold sensation of solid metal through his palm. He let out a long, shaky breath while Galen set his tool back on the table and admired his handiwork. He picked up his pistol again and Andeal closed his eyes. He didn’t need to watch Galen take aim a second time.
Galen’s short-wave radio emitted a loud burst of static, then an enthusiastic “Hello?” came through. Andeal looked up as he recognized Treysh’s voice and a warm feeling spread through his belly. The scientist snatched the small radio from the table.
“What are you doing with that?”
The cold fury in his tone extinguished Andeal’s meager hope. Whatever she said, whatever she did, he would be the one to pay for it.
“Remember me, Galen?” she asked. The heavy static could not erase her cheerful tone. “Your twin’s dead, my friend, and I am coming to cough all over you. Over and out!”
They heard part of her laugh before the communication was cut. Galen’s hold tightened over his radio until his knuckles turned white. He stared at a point on the wall, his mouth twisting into a snarl, little by little. Then he slammed it down on the table with a cry of rage.
“No.” He snatched the drill, set the tip into the screw once more. “Dead? They think that’s a good thing, don’t they? They think they can just kill Omar and get away with it?”
Andeal whimpered as Galen powered the drill again. Except this time, he unscrewed him. The metal twisted in his palm, through flesh and muscles at a slow, excruciating pace. The lights turned back on then, all at once, and Galen’s younger, smooth voiced filtered through the radio station’s speakers once more. Andeal mumbled Henry’s name, shook his head. He received a powerful slap from Galen.
“You and I have places to go. One in particular.” He sped the drill and removed the screw altogether. Andeal fell to the ground with a moan, only to be picked up by Galen. “Did you know Omar liked to be loved? He was always the one pushing to ‘do this right’. He wanted to be remembered as a savior. A hero.” He scoffed. “I don’t really care. And since you are so determined not to give our family the love it so rightly deserves, we’ll at least make sure you peasants learn to fear our name.”
Andeal tried to ignore Galen’s rant, bringing his hand closer to him, but the tone and increasing pace terrified him. This one place could only be his new labs. The scientist slid a finger under Andeal’s chin and forced him to look up. “You already shake at the mere thought of it, my blue friend. Surely we can teach everyone else.”
Galen Clarin pulled Andeal back to his feet, holding him in a slumped, standing position by the armpits. Andeal clung to consciousness, on principle more than anything, dizzy and nauseated. The scientist grinned at him and there was a renewed excitement in his expression. Not unlike his smile as he lied on the radio but darker, wilder. A cold shudder shook Andeal’s body as his captor undid his manacles.
“Let’s head home and prepare them a gif
t, shall we?”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Henry climbed the stairs between floors two and three, satisfied by the neon lights brightening his path once more and Galen’s smooth voice coming out of the speakers. That was good, no? The radio was running again. He had no idea for how long, just like he had no idea what to do now. His father’s recording played in the background. He’d accomplished what he meant to, and now he was alone in the Radio Tower. Since he lacked better options, Henry opted to be ready to continue the broadcast once the recording had played.
Then a door somewhere below swung open, the push-bar smashing against the heavy metal. Henry’s heart rushed into his throat and he froze mid-step. Galen’s voice reached his ears—not from the speakers, but right here in the staircase with him. They hadn’t left.
“Hold him for me, will you?” the scientist said. “He’s smearing blood all over my clothes.”
Blood all over. Andeal was with him. He had to be. Henry took a deep breath and gripped his pistol with a trembling hand. Could he save him? He had taken out two elite guards at once. Maybe he could do it again.
A soft moan bounced off the staircase walls from below as bodies shuffled around. Andeal.
He had to do it again.
A strange determination calmed his frenzied heartbeat. Henry thought of his first visit to the tower, of how they’d accomplished the impossible so far. He remembered the exhilaration pumping through his veins as he’d sprinted out of the National Radio, transmitter in hand, lightheaded at the risks taken and overcome. He clung to the memory of Treysh’s peck on his cheek, too. For a moment he had felt invincible.
That’s what he’d need now. Invincibility. Even without it, though, he was going to try.
He padded toward the stairs and took a first step down, settling his foot on the metallic step as gently as possible. He peeked down the staircase well and glimpsed four heads. Blood smeared Andeal’s blond shock of hair. Henry took another determined step down. They began climbing up. There were four of them and they were more noisy, but he was convinced every time he moved, the little scuffle of his feet on the ground would reverberate straight into their ears and they would look up.
They didn’t.
Not until he was half a floor above them. Henry lined up his pistol, cursing silently at his constant shake. Blood pumped against his temples and he leaned forward, aimed. The pistol tip touched the railing. Just a small tap, a split second. Enough for a crystalline ting to echo through the stairwell.
One guard looked up. Henry shut his eyes and pulled the trigger.
The gun’s kickback surprised him, a tremor going through his arm and shoulder, and his shot went wide. He’d set his elbow firmly in the ground earlier and hadn’t realized how big a difference it made. He heard his shot thunk into the wall, then a bullet whizzed past his head and Henry threw himself to the ground with a yelp. He covered his head, despite the shots coming from below. Breathe, Henry. What a ridiculous idea this was.
“Henry?”
Gunshots almost buried Andeal’s hesitant question. Henry raised his head and crawled to the edge of the stairs. He glanced over, for a fraction of a second, before another volley forced him back.
“Yeah!” he called out.
His first answer was a soft, mocking laughter from Galen Clarin. Henry clenched the gun’s hilt tighter. He hated the sound. He’d never heard it before and he already abhorred Galen’s laugh. Once again, he leaned over the edge, risking the guards’ carefully aimed shots.
“Next time I might get your head!”
This provoked another derisive chuckle from the scientist—and from the sound of it, he was moving away. Henry’s heart tightened. He had to do something now or they would escape But they had him pinned there, huddled on the metal steps and reduced to ridiculous empty threats. He stared at his bloodied pants, as though they would give him an answer.
It came from Andeal instead.
“Henry, Omar is dead! Galen is taking me to the labs, he—”
A resounding slap interrupted him. Andeal’s cry of pain ripped through Henry’s insides. He jumped to his feet and tried to aim at the guards, shooting twice in a row. They grabbed Galen and Andeal and pulled them out of sight. A bullet hit the railing right in front of Henry and he scrambled back. As silence fell again, Galen’s voice rose.
“We have to be off, Mister Schmitt.” The level of scorn the scientist put into his name impressed Henry. He couldn’t help but feel a little proud about it. “Enjoy your silly radio show while it lasts.”
The ground floor’s door opened. Henry could hear Andeal’s brief struggle and muffled protests as they forced him through. He wanted to follow, to run after them, but the certainty of a bullet to his head kept him glued in place. What good would it do? All he could do was stay here. Stuck in the tower, pinned by the relentless shots of Galen’s guards until they were all out of reach. Then he would be free to enjoy his radio show, while this horrible self-congratulating scientist would take his best friend back to the torture chambers. “Laboratories”.
Henry flung the pistol at the wall before him with a frustrated yell. All he was good for was blowing hot air into a balloon’s envelope and eating his damn noodles. He was so useless Galen didn’t even bother to go after him. He’d left him alone. With the radio.
With the radio.
If he couldn’t stop Galen Clarin, others would. They had killed Omar, hadn’t they? They were out there, in the protesting crowd—Maniel and Vermen and Seraphin. Stern and Joshua, too. Even Lungvist. They were all out there, ready to help. He had the means to contact them.
Henry jumped to his feet, the knot in his throat unwinding under the effect of renewed hope. He sprinted all the way up the stairs and shoved the sixth floor’s door open. As he emerged in the lobby, with its great window, he caught sight of the billows of smoke over Reverence. He edged closer, to get a better view. Gas and smoke obscured half the panorama his vantage point offered. He spotted burning trash cans and barricades built from fences, dumpsters, and everything else at hand—was that pink from a lawn flamingo? Protesters huddled behind their meager protections to hurl flaming projectiles at unyielding lines of riot police. Other squads pursued pockets of rioters, chasing them through the smaller streets.
But the battle was the most intense at his very feet. The area around the National Radio Tower was thick with scarfed protesters, armed with makeshift shields and the wooden sticks of broken signs. Hundreds of them faced not only riot police but Union soldiers—a handful of them, who had retreated against the radio’s main doors. Henry’s eyes widened as he noticed the army’s men raise their firearms and line them up at a group of protesters. Their officer lowered his arm in one sharp movement. The screams and gunfire came muffled through the window, the civilians fell like dolls, and it all seemed from another world.
It wasn’t. He had allies right outside his door, and they were dying.
Then another group of protesters threw several projectiles at the soldiers—rocks, flaming bottles, a trash can lid—and charged. They plunged through the ranks, clubbing their enemies with improvised weapons before any more shots could be fired. Henry didn’t stay to watch the ending. He prayed they had a few radio receivers down there and ran to the broadcast booth.
The screen of blood in the window made him squirm but Henry grabbed the red cable and switched from the disc reader—his recording had finished while he stared at the fight anyway—to the microphone. He wasted no time with introductions.
“Guys!”
The sound of his own voice in the speakers startled him. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. If he didn’t sound dignified they might not listen to him.
“To the people fighting outside the radio…Galen Clarin is about to escape. He has Andeal with him. I think he has a car, maybe? He’s trying to go to his secret labs. Something about Omar Clarin being dead and maybe he wants to avenge him? You have to stop him.”
He was dying to run to the windo
w and check if his words had provoked any reaction. What if they didn’t hear? What if they didn’t care? He had to believe they would. They were fighting to get inside the Radio Tower. To him. To Andeal, too. Henry had to trust they were capable of accomplishing what he’d failed to do. The radio was all he had left but with it, he might still stop Galen Clarin.
“He killed your families. He will do it again. Please. You traveled all the way to Reverence. You refused to stay in the field and came with us in the streets. This is the last thing we ask of you: stop that car. Stop Galen Clarin and save Andeal.” Henry ran a hand through his hair, grimaced at the dried blood in it. Kurtmann’s, he knew. “It’s your turn now, people. I’m counting on you.”
Henry put the recording back on. He didn’t know what else to say and refused to let silence take over every receiver in the Union’s territory—not today. While Galen Clarin once more explained the progress of his plans with Omar, Henry returned to the window. He pressed his nose on the glass and watched as disciplined soldiers retreated from the mass of protesters, their leaders screaming into short-wave radios just behind them. Although he could hear none of what was said below, there was an aura of careful confusion about the troops’ movements, like they didn’t know if they were supposed to back down or charge.
Henry wished he could see Galen’s car. It had to be out back but the suspense was killing him. He tried to read either discouragement or a cheer from the rebels as they progressed and reached the Radio Tower’s door.
Someone would be up, sooner or later. He kept staring through the window, letting the minutes pass by. He heard running footsteps coming up the staircase. That was his answer. He hoped it would be the one he wanted.
Stern pushed the door open and called his name.
“There you are,” he said.
Viral Airwaves Page 36
