Dream Sky

by Brett Battles

  He closed his eyes for a moment. “I couldn’t kill anyone else…I just couldn’t. I’m sorry. But can’t you…let this group go?”

  She smiled. “You have my word. No one will harm them.”

  He looked at her as if unsure he could believe her. “You’re just saying…that.”

  “I’m not.”

  Whether she convinced him or not, she would never know. He exhaled a breath and never drew in another.

  She stayed with him for another few seconds out of respect for what he’d done, and then hurried back to grab her things and get out of there.

  34

  LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

  9:08 PM PST

  BEN LEAPT AS he neared the fence, grabbed the top, and pulled himself up and over.

  No yells for him to stop. No bullets hitting the ground around him.

  He’d been right. For the moment, no one was watching.

  He examined the back of the fence, found the latches holding the two sections together, and unhooked them.

  As soon as the wall parted, he said, “Jilly, now!”

  She climbed out of the hole and sprinted over to him.

  “Stay here until everyone is through,” he said. “The instant the last person comes out, close the gate.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Figure out where we go from here.”

  __________

  WHEN DR. LAWRENCE and Dr. Rivera entered the room used for large group intakes, they expected all the other administration personnel who usually helped out to be there. Surprisingly, only two others were present.

  “Are we in the wrong place?” Lawrence asked.

  Dieter Schneider, the man in charge of survivor viability assessment, shrugged. “I just got here myself, but I do not think so.”

  “Then where is everyone?” Rivera asked.

  The girl sitting in one of the chairs said, “There were more people here, but the director got a call and she took them with her.”

  “When was this?” Lawrence asked.

  “About two minutes ago.”

  “Did she say what we were supposed to do?” Schneider asked.

  “The only thing anyone told me was to say here.”

  They were probably up in the director’s office, Lawrence thought. She turned for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Rivera asked.

  “Well, I’m not staying here. If something’s going on, I want to know what it is.”

  Apparently so did Rivera and Schneider. They followed her upstairs and found the others not in the director’s office, but in the security monitoring center down the hall. Formerly a conference room, it was now equipped with dozens of monitors, each showing feeds from different cameras around the stadium. The director and the rest of the management team were gathered in front of two of the biggest monitors.

  Lawrence walked up to the group. “What’s going on?”

  “Problems,” Hughes, head of supply, whispered.

  “What problems?” Lawrence asked, looking at the monitors.

  Each displayed a lit-up slice of the parking area surrounding the stadium. One was completely empty, while in the other was a large group of people talking to seven members of Project security.

  “Just watch,” he said.

  “Is this live?”

  He shook his head. “Happened a few minutes ago.”

  Except for the size of the survivor group, it seemed no different than other encounters Lawrence had witnessed. If all stayed to form, within a few minutes the guards would be escorting the survivors to the stadium for processing. But things did not stay to form.

  Before she realized what was happening, several of the survivors had weapons in their hands. Others grabbed the guards, stripping them of their rifles. One of the guards struggled free and tried to make a run for it, but the man who’d taken his rifle smashed it into the guard’s back, knocking him to the ground. The guard tried to rise but the man hit him again, this time in the head. The guard collapsed and stopped moving.

  “Oh, my God,” Lawrence said. “Who are these people?”

  “We don’t know,” the director said. “Three large groups arrived at once. We sent teams to intercept each, but we’ve lost contact with all of them. This is the only one we have on camera, but I assume the others have met with the same fate.”

  “A coordinated attack?” Schneider said. “Why?”

  The director turned and looked at him. “Let me take a stab in the dark. Perhaps they’ve discovered the true nature of our business here?”

  “How…how could they possibly know that?” he stammered.

  “At the moment, I don’t care. I’m more concerned about the safety of this facility.”

  “How many guards are missing?” Lawrence asked.

  “Nineteen.”

  The facility had a twenty-five member security force. Six was not nearly enough to guard the stadium.

  The director was clearly on the same wavelength. “Have everyone in your departments report to the armory immediately,” she said, scanning the managers assembled behind her.

  Hughes grimaced and said, “But they don’t all have training for—”

  “I don’t care what they’ve been trained for,” she said. “Go! Get them—”

  “Director!” Rivera shouted from the back of the pack. “The detainees!”

  They all turned toward him. He was pointing at a small monitor that showed a wide shot of the stadium’s interior from the press boxes above home plate. All three holding areas could be seen in the image, but everyone was looking at the gap in the center-field fence. They watched as two people ran out from somewhere behind the immune compound and through the opening.

  “Goddammit!” the director yelled. “How many?”

  “At least three,” Rivera said. “Shouldn’t the guards have…” He stopped, obviously realizing no guards were currently inside the stadium.”

  “What are you all standing here for?” the director asked. “Go!”

  __________

  MARTINA RACED TOWARD the back of the stadium, her legs aching from her days of walking. But it was easy to ignore the pain.

  Ben was here.

  She was so focused on her destination that she didn’t see the two soldiers running toward her until they shouted at her to stop.

  She nearly tripped over her own feet, and had barely stopped when two gunshots rocketed across the parking lot. The uniformed men dropped to the ground.

  Seconds later, Pax and Nyla ran up, rifles in their hands.

  “What are you doing?” Nyla shouted.

  “I…I…”

  “You need to get back to your post,” Pax said.

  “No! I can’t. Ben. He’s there. I saw them.”

  “Your boyfriend?” Nyla said. “I thought you told me he was dead.”

  “I was wrong. He’s alive. He’s inside!”

  She stepped to the side to get past them and head for the stadium, but Pax snagged her around the waist.

  “Let me go!” she yelled. “Let me go! It’s Ben!”

  “It’s too dangerous,” he told her.

  She twisted and turned but couldn’t break his grip. “Let me go. Please! He’s there. He’s trying to get out! I need to help him.”

  “What do you mean, trying to get out?” Nyla asked.

  “I was watching the stadium and saw that they’ve dug a hole under the gate of the tarped area. Someone was standing outside. When he turned, I saw it was Ben.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And you think he was trying to get out?”

  “Yes! Yes! Now please let me go.”

  Nyla and Pax shared a look.

  “All right,” Pax said. “We’ll go together. But you need to stick with us.”

  “Sure, sure. Whatever. Come on!”

  __________

  WITH NO STAFF assigned to the medical assessment department other than the two of them, Lawrence and Ri
vera were the first to reach the armory. Rivera used his code to get inside, and they each selected a pistol because, like most non-security Project personnel, it was the only type of weapon they’d been trained on.

  As they exited, Rivera turned in the direction of the lab.

  “No. Follow me,” Lawrence said as she started jogging the other way.

  “Where are you going?”

  Without stopping, she said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m not about to lose a whole group of potential test subjects!”

  __________

  KEEPING AS CLOSE to the stadium as possible, Gabriel led his team to a ticket-holder entrance along the third-base side. The gates were solid on the bottom, but the tops were covered with heavy wire mesh. As expected, all gates were locked, but Gabriel’s team had come prepared for that.

  He nodded at Cahill and Walker. They ran up to the nearest gate and pulled out the reciprocating saws they’d been carrying on ropes under their jackets. Each was equipped with a blade intended for metal use. While the two men went to work cutting through the mesh, the others split their attention between watching the parking lot and keeping an eye on the inside area beyond the gate.

  “We’re at our entrance now,” Gabriel said into his mic. “Team B and C, status?”

  “Team B, at our gate, almost through.”

  Gabriel waited. After a few seconds of silence, he said, “Team C?”

  “Sorry,” the leader of Team C said. “Had a little problem with one of the guards. Taken care of now. We’re still on the way to ours, but should be there in the next two minutes.”

  The basic goal of the mission was to free the prisoners and cause Project Eden as much trouble as possible. The wish-list goal was a complete takeover of the facility. The next several minutes would decide which one they’d accomplish.

  “Done,” Cahill said.

  He and Walker pulled out the freed section of mesh and dropped it on the ground. Two volunteers from Isabella Island hoisted another former island resident—a short and sinewy woman—through the hole to the other side. Once she was clear, one of the saws was passed through, and she made quick work of the chain holding the gate closed.

  As Team A hurried into the stadium, Gabriel tapped his mic again. “We’re in.”

  __________

  BETWEEN THE TWO sets of outfield bleachers was a wide concrete wedge running from the center-field wall to the outer wall of the stadium. Ben crossed it in no time and moved along the perimeter fence, looking for a way out.

  The only gates he found were locked solid. He spent a few precious moments searching for something to pry one open, but there was nothing in his immediate vicinity.

  They would have to go over the top. Not the ideal situation, but better than staying here.

  As he turned to head back to the others, a gunshot boomed across the playing field.

  __________

  DR. LAWRENCE WAS the first out of the dugout and onto the field. Not waiting for Rivera to catch up, she raced past the non-sick holding area and into the outfield. As soon as she hit the end of the fence, she angled her path toward the back of the immune pen.

  When she spotted the ditch dug under the gate, she muttered, “Unbelievable.” She turned toward the outfield wall just in time to see the two sections of walls pushed shut. She raised her 9mm pistol and pulled the trigger twice. Thankfully, no screams came from the other side. She needed the prisoners alive.

  She ran to the wall and shoved the left half open. In the lit up area beyond the gate, she could see the immune survivors running toward the back fence. If they made it over, her chances of getting them all back would be slim.

  She sprinted through the opening, halted ten feet in, and pointed her gun at the escapees. “Stop where you are or I will shoot!” she yelled.

  Only those in the back heeded her order.

  She moved her barrel just left of the runners and fired off a shot, then quickly did the same on the right.

  That stopped them. Even the guy straddling the top of the fence froze, looking at her.

  Ben Bowerman, she realized. Their newest inductee.

  “Mr. Bowerman, I advise you to climb back down. On this side of the fence, please. If not, one of your friends here will pay the price.”

  The kid hesitated for a moment before pulling his leg back over and dropping to the ground.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Behind her, she heard Rivera arrive, breathing heavily. “You got them,” he said, sounding both surprised and pleased.

  “Why are you doing this?” one of the girls asked. “You’re supposed to be helping us.”

  Lawrence smirked. “If you’re running then you already know that’s not true. So let’s not pretend anymore.” She raised her voice. “Everyone line up! Now!”

  “What are you going to do with us?” another girl asked.

  “You’re lucky we haven’t killed you on the spot,” Rivera said. “Now do as Dr. Lawrence said. Line up!”

  __________

  “YOU SEE THIS?” Cahill asked.

  “Yeah. I see it,” Gabriel said.

  __________

  THE FAILED ESCAPEES began forming a single line. All except for Bowerman. He walked toward the two doctors and didn’t stop until he was only ten feet away.

  “Please, let us go,” he said. “We’re a small group. We promise we’ll disappear and never cause you any problems.”

  “Really?” Lawrence said. She nodded past him at the fence. “I believe you and your friends out there already have.”

  He looked confused. “What friends?”

  “That’s enough. Get in line.”

  “No, wait. At least let them go. I’ll stay. It was my idea to try to escape.”

  “Is that so?” she said. “Under normal circumstances, that might have changed things, but unfortunately we need more than one test subject.”

  “Test subject?”

  She smiled and raised her pistol, pointing it at Ben’s head. “But I guess I don’t need all of you.”

  She was going to pull the trigger, knew that beyond a doubt, had even started to apply the pressure. But the next thing she knew she was on the ground, trying to fill her lungs with air, but unable to do so. The pain came next, a visceral, scorching pain.

  Her hand found the wound on her chest and came away covered with blood.

  How…? What…? Tired. So damn tired.

  She remembered the prisoners and tried to grab for the gun that seemed to have fallen from her hands. All she could manage, though, was to twist enough so she could see Rivera. He, too, was on the ground, but the top of his head seemed to be missing.

  So tired.

  She closed her eyes, thinking she’d rest for a second, regain her strength so she could…figure out…what…had…hap—

  __________

  GABRIEL MOVED HIS eye from his rifle’s scope and patted Cahill on the back. “Nice shot.”

  “Thanks,” Cahill said. “You, too.”

  Gabriel frowned. “I was trying for her head.”

  “Close enough.”

  As they rose to their feet, Walker asked, “We go after them?”

  Gabriel scanned the back of the stadium, and saw that the group that had been fleeing was heading once more for the fence.

  “They’ll be fine. We go inside.”

  __________

  AT THE SOUND of the first two shots at the back of the stadium, Martina increased her speed, getting almost all the way to the wall by the time the second pair of shots went off.

  She raced along the wall, looking for a way in as she tried not to think about the possibility that one of the bullets had hit Ben, but all the gates were locked.

  She screamed in frustration.

  “Over here!” Nyla yelled from along the fence behind her. “Boost me up.”

  Martina raced back. “I’ll go.”

  “No. I will.”

  “No way!”

  “Martina, which one of us is a
rmed?”

  Martina almost said to give her the rifle, but she knew Nyla was right. Martina had no firearms experience.

  She laced her fingers together. As soon as Nyla stepped into the cradle, Martina thrust up her hands.

  “Hurry,” she said as Nyla dropped out of sight. “Please hurry.”

  __________

  BEN HAD BEEN sure his life was over. But then the doctor had collapsed. Before her colleague could react, he was down, too.

  There were shouts of surprise. Ben thought one of them had been his, but he quickly pulled himself together and said, “Come on!”

  He raced back to the outside fence and was about to start climbing when he noticed movement to the left.

  A woman with dark brown skin stepped from the shadows, a rifle in her hands.

  As soon as the others saw her, they stopped in their tracks, a few raising their hands in surrender.

  “Drop your weapons!” the woman said.

  “We’re not armed,” Ben told her.

  “We heard gunshots,” she said.

  He couldn’t help but flick a gaze at the two dead doctors. When the woman looked, too, he said, “We didn’t do it. Someone else shot them. I don’t know who.”

  The woman sidestepped over to the bodies. She poked a foot against Dr. Lawrence but didn’t bother with Dr. Rivera. When she seemed satisfied, she lowered her weapon.

  “You’re the prisoners?” she asked.

  “Um, yeah, I guess we are,” Ben said. “Who are you?”

  “Let’s just say I’m not with them,” she said, nodding toward the bodies. “Any of you know how to shoot?”

  No one moved.

  She picked up the pistols the doctors had been using. “Anyone?”

  Still no response.

  She tossed one pistol to Ben, and the other to Jilly. “You’ll figure it out. Now come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

  She led them behind the left-field bleachers and showed them how to help each other over the fence.

  “There are more people still in the detention area,” Ben said. “And another inside somewhere. We can’t leave them here.”

  The woman thought for a moment. “It’s Ben, isn’t it?”