by R. D. Brady
Chris scanned the ground and saw liquid spilled next to each canister. Then trails of liquid led to the air duct.
Oh shit.
Chris pulled his own weapon into his shoulder, scanning the room. “Control, this is Bravo. We have a new situation. Whatever was in the cryogenics lab is now out.”
“Say again?”
“Whatever was in these giant test tubes has escaped. We think they’re in the air ducts. Do we follow?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
“Negative, Bravo Team. Get out, get out now.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Martin walked the catwalk that rimmed the entire ten-thousand-square-foot building. He didn’t take pride in many things, but this building was his baby. He’d had the old warehouse converted two years ago when he’d first conceived of Project Vault. He had two dozen analysts with their monitors and computers at desks in the middle of the room, glass walls that could be darkened separating them. There were two offices made with drywall—his and a control room. Otherwise, Martin wanted to be able to see what every one of his people was up to with no exceptions.
He had dozens of analysts running security protocols on all government agencies as well as monitoring their chatter. He’d even managed to wrangle a SCIF room.
All on the dime of the American taxpayer and all without a single bit of government oversight. He smiled. Thank you, black budgets.
But Martin hadn’t spent that money in vain. He’d known this day would come and he needed the right tools to be in place. Plus, he wanted to be close to the action.
His phone beeped as his assistant ran up the metal stairs toward him. Hamish Rheinberg was sorely in need of both a diet and an exercise regime. But what he lacked in physical prowess he more than made up for in computer know-how. He’d first come to Martin’s attention when he was twelve, when he’d hacked NASA looking for information on UFOs. Martin had been grooming him ever since.
“Sir,” Hamish said, his breath coming out in pants, sweat stains underneath his armpits.
“What is it?” Martin asked.
Hamish smiled. “Director Fezza is on the video phone. There’s a problem at the site.”
About damn time. “Patch it through to my office.”
“Yes, sir.” Hamish held onto the rail as he hurried back down.
Martin took his time following him, even as his pulse jumped. He turned into his office, closing the door and making his way to his desk. He hit the button on his laptop that activated the video phone. “Director, what’s going on?”
Obeid Fezza glared into the screen. “What’s going on? All hell is breaking loose. Your projects have escaped. Some of my people have been killed.”
Martin frowned. “Escaped? How?”
“We’re looking into it, but it looks like the containment units failed. We’ve never had a break like this before.”
“Which building? 34 or 39?”
“Both have reports of escapes.”
Martin narrowed his eyes. “Both? How the hell is that possible? You assured me the projects would be safe at your facility. You are supposed to have a security system second to none.”
“And we do,” Obeid spit back. “I wanted to space out the projects arrivals. You wanted them immediately.”
“And you agreed,” Martin’s voice was ice cold. “Whatever the security breakdown was, I expect you to find it and fix it.”
“I will find out the cause of this failure.”
“Has anyone been hurt?”
Obeid’s voice was tight. “Yes. We have close to twelve dead.”
“Twelve? Has the situation been contained?”
“No.”
“Well, if people are still in danger, their safety needs to be our top priority.”
Obeid nodded. “Agreed.”
“Can the projects be rounded up?”
Obeid shook his head. “Initially we thought so. But we’ve had reports that the breakouts are growing. There are now multiple subjects out of containment. The situation is unmanageable.” He paused. “We need to do a clean sweep.”
Martin blew out a breath. Clean sweep—a destruction of all research projects. “That’s an extreme response. Surely the projects still contained—”
“I do not believe you understand the gravity of the situation. The security protocols are breaking down throughout both buildings. We have reports that a minimum of thirty percent of the research subjects are loose. And we cannot guarantee that the subjects currently contained will remain contained. The safest approach is to remove that threat.”
Martin sighed. “You’re sure it’s necessary?”
Obeid nodded. “The situation is unsalvageable. Unless we move quickly, the death toll will rise dramatically.”
Martin nodded slowly. “I understand. Approval given for Clean Sweep. But when this is over, I want to know who is responsible for this. Someone must be held accountable. We’re talking years of research and billions of dollars that are going up in smoke.”
Obeid’s face was grave. “As soon as we have the situation under control I will initiate an investigation. I will find out who compromised my facility.” Obeid disconnected the call.
Martin strode out of his office, heading toward the monitoring room. The creatures were out and people had been killed. Now the security force would move in and destroy any and all creatures.
Hamish stood at the door waiting for him. “It’s all queued up, sir.”
“Thank you.” Martin stepped in, closing the door behind him. Ahead of him were sixteen monitors showing feeds from Buildings 34 and 39.
Martin pulled out a chair and grabbed the coffee that Hamish had left for him. Scenes of chaos were splashed across the screens. In the bottom right a group of white-coated humans sprinted up a stairwell. In the monitor above them, a creature with black stripes over white skin that looked like a very large dog chewed on something.
Martin zoomed in and saw the fingers at the end of the arm. Each screen offered some display of terror or violence. On the ground level, soldiers were entering each building to secure the personnel and take out any creatures that crossed their paths.
Martin took a sip of his coffee with a contented sigh. Perfect.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Alvie’s terrified screams yanked Maeve from her sleep. She shot straight up off the cot.
The lights blared on and she blinked hard.
“What the hell’s wrong with him?” Henning yelled, his gun in his hand but still pointed at the ground.
“I don’t know.” Maeve ran for the glass enclosure, her gait unsteady. It was taking her a moment to come to. She had been in a deep sleep. Shaking her head, she reached the keypad by the door of the enclosure. Alvie stood on the ground, his head thrown back. The scream now turned to a wail. The last time he’d made that yell, her mother had died.
Tremors ran through Maeve. But Alvie wasn’t close to anyone else besides her and—
Maeve’s stomach dropped. Chris. Fumbling for her security card, she flashed it at the scanner before keying in her code. When the door buzzed, she pushed through. She reached for Alvie’s restraints.
“Don’t you dare remove those,” Henning yelled from the doorway, his weapon now pointed at Alvie.
Maeve stepped in front of Alvie. “Put that down.”
“No chance.”
Alvie collapsed on the bed, small cries coming from his lips.
Maeve held her hands up. “I won’t release him. But pointing your weapon at him will only make him more upset. The goal here is to calm him down, right?”
Henning glared at her before lowering his weapon. But he did not return it to his holster.
Maeve let out a breath. She stepped toward Alvie. “Alvie, what’s wrong? What happened?”
A vision snapped into her brain. A soldier pulled out his weapon and shot. Maeve flinched and stumbled back with a gasp, as if it was aimed at her. What the hell was that?
“What
is it?” Henning demanded.
“Nothing, nothing. Just a nightmare,” she said trying to keep her tone even. Then she had a vision of a door plaque that read ‘11 AI1’, followed by a sense of overwhelming sadness.
She moved back to the bed. “It’s okay, Alvie. It’s okay,” she said even as she tried to make sense of what she’d seen. Had it been a nightmare? But what else could it be?
Behind her, she heard Henning’s phone beep, but she ignored it, her focus on Alvie and trying to calm him down.
She knelt next to the bed and ran her hand over Alvie’s back. “Alvie? Are you all right?”
The vision with the door plaque ‘11 AI1’ reappeared in her mind. She looked down at him. “What are you trying to tell me? Is that a room?” she asked quietly.
“Doctor, step away from the bed,” Henning ordered.
Maeve gritted her teeth, keeping her gaze on Alvie, whose breathing picked up a tick. “I told you, it’s fine.”
“Doctor, I’m ordering you away from the bed.”
Maeve glanced over her shoulder. Henning had his weapon aimed at the bed. She jumped to her feet, planting herself in front of Alvie. “What are you doing?”
“Following orders. Now get out of the way.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chris helped evacuate all personnel from floors seven down. He’d seen three more creatures in that effort. He’d taken out one and maybe wounded the second. The third had ghosted right in front of him—its body literally turning to gas as it escaped through a vent. And Chris still couldn’t understand how things had gone to hell so quickly. It was a no man’s land below seven. It seemed as if all the subjects had escaped at the same time. What the hell had happened?
Once he reached the surface, he reported to Commander West.
The commander nodded at him. “Good work, Captain. Now stand down until further orders.”
“Sir, what about the rest of the building? Is it being evacuated?”
“Not at this time. Although I expect the call will come in to do just that.”
“Does the rest of the building know what’s happening?”
The commander’s mouth tightened. “No.”
“Sir—”
“I don’t agree with it either, Captain. But that’s the order.” The commander turned away as another group exited the building.
And Chris turned and headed right back into it. Maeve was two floors away from some crazy outbreak, and the higher-ups were keeping that from them. And that was fine with him. But he was sure as hell going to make sure she was safe.
He stepped into the elevator as two soldiers escorted a man and a woman out. They both nodded at Chris. He nodded back, punching the fifth floor button as soon as the doors closed.
The image of a soldier taking aim at him filled his mind. And Chris recognized the soldier—it was Henning. Chris grabbed onto the bar on the wall. What the hell was that? A layer of sweat broke out across his forehead.
His pulse picked up, not sure what that had been but knowing in his gut it had something to do with Alvie. The elevator doors had just opened when the alarm on his phone buzzed. Chris yanked it from his waist as he headed down the hall. He stared at the message in disbelief.
Code 42—the destruction of research projects. It was the failsafe if an experiment was deemed too dangerous. This one was sent out base-wide. All experiments in Buildings 34 and 39 were to be destroyed.
Gunshots sounded from the other end of the hall. Chris’s heart raced. He sprinted down the hall toward Maeve’s lab. He knew he was expected to follow that order, which meant killing Alvie. But he also knew that with Maeve there, she would not step aside and let Alvie be killed. Henning would have to go through her first.
And Chris had no doubt he would do exactly that.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Maeve stared at Henning, not believing the soldier was actually aiming his weapon at her and Alvie. “What are you doing? Put down your weapon. He’s not a threat. He’s harmless.”
“I have orders.”
“Orders? What orders?”
Henning raised his weapon. “All research subjects are to be terminated. Now step out of the way.”
Terminated? Maeve put up her hands, her mind racing. Protect yourself, she thought at Alvie, not sure if he could hear her. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. She was hoping her terror would help the message get through. Although considering Alvie was still restrained, she wasn’t sure what he could do.
Maeve walked slowly toward Henning, being sure to block his view of Alvie. “Okay. Just let me get out of here first.”
Henning nodded. Maeve kept her hands in front of her. Henning stepped back so she could step through, then he turned his back to her as he got back into position.
Maeve kicked at the back of his legs as Henning pulled the trigger. The shot went through the ceiling. He let out a yell as Maeve put both hands on his shoulders and yanked him back. He slammed onto his back, his head cracking onto the tile floor. He lay there dazed as Maeve kicked his weapon across the room and underneath the console. She ran for Alvie.
Henning latched onto her ankle as she passed. She crashed toward the ground, just managing to get her hands out in time to keep her face from slamming into the floor. But she still hit the ground harder than she would have liked, pain radiating up her arms.
She turned on her side and kicked Henning in the face with her free leg. His head jolted back. Inwardly, she cringed. Outwardly, she yanked her foot free and sprinted for Alvie.
Alvie sat on the bed, his eyes watching her closely, his little form shaking. She quickly undid the restraints around his wrists. “We have to go,” she said, even knowing there was no chance they would escape alive. But she had to try. She couldn’t just sit back and watch him die.
Alvie caught her wrist as she started to undo the restraints holding his legs. She looked up into eyes. He shook his head. And her heart broke.
“Alvie, they’ll kill you.”
The image of her as a five-year-old child holding her hand up to the glass flew through her mind as well as the joy that moment had brought to Alvie. Countless images of the two of them together over the years flew through her mind. Tears cascaded down her cheeks.
He held his hand to her cheek. Maeve placed her hand over his. “I love you too, Alvie, but I can’t do what you want, not this time.” She shook his hands free and undid the last of the restraints.
She pulled Alvie into her arms and turned as Henning got to his feet. He stood in the doorway, blocking the exit, his eye already beginning to swell. He pulled his baton from his belt.
“You’re going to pay for that.”
Chapter Fifty
The tapping woke him. Greg cracked open one eye, half his body already off the small couch that had been crammed into the corner of the lab.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He frowned and sat up, looking for the source. “Where is that coming from?”
His guard on the other side of the room, Kinsey or Kenny or Smith for all he knew—Greg hadn’t really been paying attention when the guy had introduced himself at the end of Leslie’s shift—nodded toward the enclosure. “It’s coming from in there.”
Greg’s heart began to race, remembering the close call earlier. Hank was still in his transport box. Greg was not interested in taking him out until he pumped enough drugs into him to knock out a dozen elephants. And he wasn’t taking him out until Leslie was back. No offense to Kinsey/Kenny/Smith, but Greg didn’t know him, but he knew Leslie and what she could do. So in the box Hank would stay.
Greg stood up, his back protesting his uncomfortable sleeping position. He’d been tempted to go to the dorms. But Leslie had been heading that way and he really hadn’t wanted to walk with her. It was just plain awkward right now, and he’d rather face an uncomfortable couch than an uncomfortable walk across the secret base.
Greg stepped up to the computer monitor and looked at the record of Hank’s vitals. All his
levels were—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The hair on the back of Greg’s neck rose and he turned slowly to look at Hank’s box. “He’s awake.”
Which should be completely impossible. Hank should be out for hours with the amount of drugs running through his system. What the hell was going on? Ever since they’d arrived here it was like everything he had learned about Hank had been turned on its head.
Greg turned on the video feed and he had a view of Hank inside his crate. Hank grimaced at the camera and Greg knew he sensed that it was on. Hank wasn’t psychic, but he could detect electronic signals. Hank stared right into the camera and then raised his talon and tapped three times on the lid of the box.
Greg swallowed, clicking off the screen.
“You okay?” Kinsey/Kenny/Smith asked.
Greg wiped his eyes. “Yeah, just tired.”
“Not sure how you managed to sleep at all with that thing in there.”
“Well, safest base in the world, right? What’s to worry about?”
Kinsey/Kenny/Smith smiled. “Damn straight.”
Coffee. Coffee and the world will be brighter, Greg thought, making his way to the coffee machine. He held up the empty pot with a sigh. The world hates me.
Behind him, he heard Kinsey/Kenny/Smith’s beeper sound. A sharp intake of breath caused him to turn. “What’s going on?”
Kinsey/Kenny/Smith stared at the screen of his phone, his jaw tightening. He looked up. “All research projects have been ordered to be terminated.”
Greg felt his jaw drop as shock flooded through him. “Terminated? You can’t be serious.”
Kinsey/Kenny/Smith put away his phone and pulled out his sidearm. “Afraid so, Doc. Please don’t get in the way.”
Greg reached the enclosure just ahead of Kinsey/Kenny/Smith and finally read the name on his uniform. Windover—wow, I was really far off. “What the hell happened?”
