“It could be nothing,” she murmured, careful to keep her voice low. “But I don’t think we have much longer before the dispensary runs dry.”
Hunter’s green eyes lifted and focused over her head. “Well, let’s hope Silos and the others figure something out before that happens.”
Saying nothing, Scarlett studied the faces around them and thought of the corn fields she never got to finish de-weeding. Were all the vegetables rotting? Were the fields riddled with weeds? Doubtful. It had only been a few days; but still, she wondered what would become of them without someone setting the proper temperature and manufacturing rain and sun.
The questions continued to pour through her mind as she stood there, waiting her turn. Every so often, the line would move and so would they, but it was never close enough. Maybe it was because of that reason, because she wasn’t anxiously fixated on getting closer that she heard it, the faint ding over the ruckus of chatter. She turned, not sure what to expect. Hunter turned when she did.
“What?” he asked.
“You didn’t hear that?”
He frowned. “Hear what? Hey!”
Abandoning her place in line, she hurried in the direction of the sound.
“What the hell…?”
The transporter doors stood open, lights on, the projection walls shimmering with a hair elixir commercial.
“Do you think Silos and the others made it?” Hunter asked, staring wide-eyed at the sight.
Scarlett shrugged. She twisted around to scan the area void of people and bedding. No cots or piles of blankets cluttered this place. It was completely isolated from prying eyes by curved walls. Behind them, people continued to jabber on about having arrived at the new planet and arguing about not getting food fast enough, but no one noticed their possible escape.
“We should get a marshal,” Hunter decided.
“Identify yourself.” The familiar demand made them both start in surprise.
Scarlett glanced at Hunter before shuffling a step closer and setting her palm on the scanner. “Scarlett Mose. Identification one-nine-seven alpha. Destination, escape pods. Deck one.”
The computer seemed to take a moment to consider her demand before responding in the same calm, patient tone.
“Access denied. Authorization required.”
Scarlett sighed. “Guess we better get a marshal. They’ll have authorization—”
“Loading bay, sector thirty-five, access override. Destination weaponry.”
“Did it say—?”
The doors began to close. Scarlett made a split second decision and dove through the opening before it could seal up without her. Hunter cursed, but he dove in after her, just as it closed seamlessly behind them.
“What are you doing?” he demanded as the transport jerked and began climbing.
“I want to know where it’s going,” Scarlett answered simply. “It said weaponry.”
“So? It’s malfunctioning!” he exclaimed. “This is a luxury cruiser, Red. Not a war ship! Those doors could open in the boiler room, for all we know, where we will both die!”
Scowling at his exaggeration, Scarlett shook her head. “It said loading bay and it’s going up.”
“So?” He threw his arms open wide in frustration.
“So, Jack said there are hundreds of levels on this ship, most of them loading bays.”
Hunter glowered. “Again … so?”
Feeling her own annoyance flare, Scarlett clenched her teeth. “Why would our maps only show twenty levels if there are actually that many? What are in those storage compartments? And what if it’s our way out of here?”
“Okay, seriously, I have to put my foot down because you have officially gone insane!” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “This ship is … was filled with fancy-pants rich people and when have you ever seen them travel light? Those storage compartments are probably full of all their crap.”
“And weapons?”
“There are no weapons!” he cried.
Scarlett opened her mouth to respond when the transporter jerked to a stop. The hands on her shoulders tightened then dropped away as the doors began sliding open.
“If I die, I swear to god I will kill you!” Hunter grumbled under his breath.
Ignoring him, she watched as the doors opened into a dark chamber barely lit by the single bulb dangling above a steel table. The air smelled of electricity, metal, and polish. Scarlett began stepping out when Hunter’s hand closed over her elbow.
“Are you crazy?” he hissed.
“Come on!” She shook him off and started out.
Reluctantly, he shuffled after her, but stopped on the threshold. “What if the doors close and don’t reopen?”
Not having thought of that, Scarlett nodded. “Okay, stay there. I’m going to find a switch.”
“Or we could both just go back!”
Paying him no mind, she pushed her way slowly across the room to the light. All her senses danced with vigilance as she swung off her bag and dug inside for a torch. She flicked it on and swung it out. The thin beam cut through the darkness surrounding her, painting over bars and counters before finding the wall and the switch.
“Found it!” she called over her shoulder as she darted towards it.
With a single sweep, she drenched the room in a thick, green light that glinted off the rows of wrought iron cages, stainless steel counters, and small arsenal on the other side.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Holy shit!” The transporter door slipped shut with an audible snick as Hunter staggered into the room, his green eyes enormous behind his glasses. “What the hell is this?”
Scarlett raised a sardonic brow. “The weaponry that doesn’t exist.”
Ignoring her, he stumbled his way to the closest cage and peered inside at the lethal rows of enforcers, sub machineguns, plasma rifles, scramblers, and atomic pistols. They each sat on their own shelves, neatly positioned for quick access. Scarlett yanked open one of the drawers underneath to find daggers and swords resting against red velvet. Each one gleamed. There were other devices in the cupboards, gadgets that she didn’t recognize, but she wasn’t fooled by their seemingly harmless appearance.
“What is this place?” she asked Hunter, doing a small circle on the spot.
Hunter continued to stare at the weapons like a little boy at a candy shop. The only thing missing was drool.
She flashed the torch over the room, taking in the stone walls and iron bars containing a small arsenal of weaponry that had no place aboard a luxury cruiser with a deep knot of apprehension.
“Hey, what’s that?” Hunter skirted the table and made his way to Scarlett’s side. “There.” He pointed in the direction of the far wall.
Bemused, Scarlett backpedaled with the light. At first glance, she saw nothing but the smooth walls of the ship washed in shadows. Then she spotted the faint glint of light sparking off metal. It was a knob.
Curious, they crept closer. Scarlett had to elbow Hunter to get him off her back. His heavy breathing against her neck made her want to bean him with the torch.
“What do you think’s behind there?” Hunter asked.
Scarlett snapped off her torch and stuffed it into her pocket. “Only one way to find out.”
She reached for the silver disk. Her fingers shook visibly in the light as they closed around the cool metal. Behind her, Hunter sucked in a breath.
The room opened into a docking bay with enormous, war crafts sitting in two precise lines. Blinding spotlights blared to life overhead, flooding the room in a white hue that brought tears to her eyes. It sparked off the smooth, sharp points of the ships and glided over the heavy artillery mounted along the sleek wings and strapped to the belly.
“Welcome to the docking bay,” the serene computer voice said.
“Why do we have a docking bay for a cruise around space?” Hunter wondered.
Scarlett shrugged. “Why do we have war ships?”
Hunter cleared
his throat. “So I’m beginning to suspect that we might not really be on a luxury cruiser.”
Giving him a playful elbow in the side, Scarlett pushed her way deeper into the room. Her boots padded against sheets of steel as she made her way along the side.
“Red!” Hunter grabbed her elbow, drawing her to a stop, and pointing to something just ahead.
A door was opening in the wall.
“Quick!”
Grabbing his arm, she shoved him back to the weaponry room; instinctively knowing being found in that place would not end well, especially when someone had gone through a great deal of time and trouble to keep it hidden.
Slipping inside and shutting the door, but for a crack, Scarlett peered out, watching, waiting for someone to pass. Only, no one did. The docking bay remained empty and brightly lit.
“What are you doing?” Hunter hissed when she nudged the gap further open.
Swatting away his hand, she poked her head out and looked up and down the chamber.
“There’s no one there,” she said, stepping back into the docking bay.
Hunter nudged her. “The door’s still open.”
Sure enough, the door was open, as though waiting for them. Scarlett moved to it with Hunter hot on her heels.
“I think this is the cargo transporter Jack was talking about,” she said, peering at the metal encasing and the series of buttons built into the side.
“There’s no palm scanner,” Hunter pointed out. He stepped in after her and fingered an oddly shaped hole in a small, round disk. Scarlett recognized it as a keyhole, something that was discontinued after the keycards were invented embedded with each person’s DNA and finger imprint. “It’s too small for a key card.”
No sooner had he spoken when the door rolled closed behind them, trapping them in.
“Oh this can’t be good…” Hunter mumbled.
The shaft gave a jolt and instantly began to rumble downward. Scarlett looked to Hunter, who looked as uncertain as she felt.
“You know,” Hunter said carefully. “I get the feeling we’re being led, quite possibly, to a slow and gruesome death.”
Scarlett had come to the same conclusion. But neither of them were given the chance to think more on it when the door slipped open soundlessly and they found themselves in a blindingly white room, facing a curved wall that disappeared in opposite directions.
“Deck nineteen, control room,” the serene voice of the computer told them.
“Uh, well, this is an interesting plot twist,” Hunter mumbled and cleared his throat. “I guess we should exit?”
With every nerve ending taut with apprehension, Scarlett gingerly poked her head out and looked left, then right. The passage both ways were clear, but they weren’t at the front of the level. The transporter they would have normally taken was located on the opposite end, near the stairway. They were standing on the side no one had access to, except the commanding officers and the captain.
“We shouldn’t be here,” Hunter mumbled, coming to stand next to Scarlett and gaze at the doors around them. “We weren’t even allowed this far during our orientation tour.”
Not sure how to respond, Scarlett stepped into the corridor and eyed the first door on her right. “What do you think is behind all these doors?”
Hunter groaned. “Oh come on, Red! Jesus, I’ve had enough adventure. Can’t we just go back?”
Turning to him, Scarlett frowned. “How can you not be curious?”
“Because I like living in ignorant bliss!” He eyed the door warily. “We should see if the others have made it up.”
Liking that plan better than seeing what was behind the row of doors, Scarlett followed him along the right curve. But her curiosity was just too great. She stopped. Hunter stopped as well.
“Red…”
Ignoring him, she reached for the door closest to her. The handle was oddly warm in her grasp, like someone had been holding on to it for a while before letting go. It twisted easily and the door swung inward.
It was empty.
Bemused, she hurried to the next door. That room was also empty.
Hunter opened another with the same results.
He shook his head in bewilderment. “I don’t understand,” he murmured. “We were told never to come this way. Why if these rooms are all empty?”
Scarlett looked back in the direction they’d come from, towards the transporter door that had sealed closed behind them. Her brain was racing a mile a minute as it tried to piece together an answer. But nothing fit. Nothing made sense.
Leaving Hunter to follow, Scarlett started onward, examining each door they passed. But there were no distinguishable marks, no way to tell what should have been there or why the doors existed.
“Hey.” Hunter stopped in front of one and blindly grabbed for Scarlett’s arm. “Do you hear that?”
She hadn’t until she was pulled to his side, holding her breath. And there it was, the faintest buzz of electronics. The sound a computer fan would make when it was being overtaxed. She had no idea how Hunter was able to hear that, but maybe it was because he spent a very large portion of his day surrounded by computers and he was accustomed to their melody, whereas she was accustomed to silence and the artificial breeze that toyed with the corn stalks.
When Hunter reached for the knob, Scarlett didn’t stop him. She watched as it was pried open a crack and he pressed his face into the opening. A full heartbeat passed before he pushed inside and they stood on the threshold of an average sized room, brimming with monitors blipping with a series of images and suspended over a large white console. Cords and wires ran rampant across the floor and along the walls.
They moved closer to the screen and studied the slow flick as files were brought up and then brushed aside into folders along the left margin. Coding poured down the back in a drizzle of green rain. It meant nothing to her, but Hunter sucked in a sharp breath.
“Those are alphanumeric shellcoding,” he told her. “It’s uploading something. The computer, not the coding,” he explained.
“Is that bad?”
Pulling a chair over, Hunter sat and splayed his fingers over the keys. His face scrunched as he squinted through his glasses at the screen. He tapped something in, but when it didn’t work, he shoved back his chair, rose, and manually began opening the folders.
His hands, which had always amused Scarlett because they seemed much too big for his line of work, worked flawlessly and almost gracefully across the screen. His face was set in concentration. He worked calmly even when the screen continuously denied his attempts.
“It’s a dump hatch,” he said at long last, his annoyance showing in his tone. “It’s like a backup system where you would store away things you want to keep, but don’t have room on your hard drive for. Not exactly unusual for a ship this size, in fact, there are whole server rooms below for this purpose, but…”
“What?” she pressed when he broke off.
He shook his head slowly, attention still fixed on the monitor. “It doesn’t make sense why these files would be on this computer alone. As far as I can tell, this entire system is reserved to sort and file.”
“So?”
Hunter looked at her at last. “It’s the ship registry. Why is it updating personal files on its own? The computer can’t possibly know who has survived the infection and who hasn’t, not unless…”
Scarlett straightened. “Unless the person messing with the controls is keeping count,” she said.
“But why?” Hunter turned back to the monitor. “And why are the majority of these the files of people under twenty five? Did no one over twenty five survive?”
“Of course they did,” she said, folding her arms to ward back the chill that had begun to work through her system. “Level seven was full of adults. Silos and Rager and—”
Hunter shook his head. “According to these readings, only ten percent out of seven thousand passengers are over that age.”
“That has to be w
rong.”
For a long moment, he said nothing. He tapped four fingers to his bottom lip as he watched the files zip from one end of the screen to the other before disappearing into folders.
“The booking,” he mumbled absently to himself. “The booking … the … booking…”
“Are you stuck on repeat?” she partially teased. “Do I have to smack you?”
“The booking.” He swiveled his chair to face her. “Two lines. We were divided into two lines.”
Scarlett stiffened. All humor vanished.
“The injection,” she mumbled.
Hunter bit his lip. “Everyone under twenty-five was told to book an appointment. The rest got theirs right away.”
Even as it sunk home, Scarlett was shaking her head and backing away from him. “No, no, no, no … no!” She rubbed a hand over her mouth, scrubbing at the paste coating her tongue. “Do you realize what that means?”
“That someone deliberately set out to infect an entire ship with a flesh-eating plague? Yeah, I’m caught up, but it took you long enough.”
“No!” she growled, her temper boiling over. “Why? Why would … we’re the last of our species. We’re the last of the human race.”
“Red!” He rose from his chair and took her shoulders gently. “Calm down.”
“Calm … did you just … get off me!” She wrenched out of his hold. “Someone turned my grandmother into a monster and … don’t tell me to calm down, Hunter. She never hurt anyone. All those people we used to see every day … gone! I want to know why!”
“That is a very good question.”
The deep, rumbling demand was thick with disapproval and suspicion. It was also the voice of the commanding leader of the marshals—Dorian Rager.
Lurking behind him, enforcers at the ready, were two marshals. The trio looked neither pleased nor impressed to find Scarlett and Hunter out of level seven.
“What are you doing here?”
Scarlett and Hunter exchanged glances. All her anger evaporated with the surprise appearance.
“We were just—”
“Scarlett?” Rolf appeared behind the group and shoved his way to the front. “What are you doing here?” His gaze swept over the computers behind them and his brows creased. “What’s that?”
When Night Falls (Regeneration Series Book 1) Page 19
