by K Alexander
"Christ!" If a vengeful lightning bolt doesn't kill him today, he'll be surprised. Perhaps he'd appreciate it, after this. "Johnston, Smith, get to two. Bulley, Simon, secure floor four." Lifting his radio he contacts the remaining security guards in the building. "Markham, take as many of your guys as you can and go to the roof. She's going to get out there - escape possibilities are the best from up there. Leave two men to check that she doesn't come back down."
With a grunt he slides out his firearm and checks the clip before he slides it back into its holster. "You stay at the monitor, Jarvis. Keep me informed when you see her." With his slight limp he runs from the security center, down the hallway with its bland cream walls, and turns right just before the boardroom to duck into the emergency staircase. He intends to run out of the front doors and see if he can spot her on the building, and when he exits the staircase on the ground floor he is just in time to see the elevator door open with a lonely little ping. The two remaining security guards are tensed, their weapons drawn and pointed, but the doors open to an empty elevator. The two men lope forward carefully, keeping their weapons up, but when they peer into the small elevator there is nothing beyond the garish striped wallpaper. Just then Lewis's radio bursts into life.
"Captain, Markham here. We've secured the roof. Nothing here. Over."
"Fuck!" Lewis grinds his teeth, and then lifts the radio to his mouth. "Johnston?"
"Johnston here. Nothing. Over."
"FUCK! Bulley? Tell me you have good news."
"Bulley here. Nothing, Captain. We've secured the level and … what?" He obviously moves the radio away from his mouth to speak to somebody in the background.
"Bulley? What's happening?"
The security guard's voice is too muffled to understand, until he brings he radio back up to his mouth in the middle of a discussion. "… you check. Are you sure? Captain… " his attention now back on the radio and urgent, "we've got a broken grid on four, left of office 7b. Looks like she's gone into the vents."
Lewis moves the radio away from his mouth and considers swearing again before he clicks the talk button. "Markham, Wallace, Greer, floor five. Secure the exits, vents, every fucking thing that leads out. Johnston, Smith, Taylor, three. I don't want her going either up or down. Bulley, get Simon in that vent. Now!"
Slotting the radio back into its place on his belt he lopes towards the stairs. "McCarthy, four! Elliot, keep the fort. Let Tilley-Clapham know to get his staff out." One of the security guards runs for the stairs as the other steps around the desk and lifts the phone.
"Doctor, it's Jack Elliot from the foyer. Captain Lewis … no, they haven't found her yet… Captain Lewis wants you to evacuate the staff, doctor." By the wince on his face the response is not a mild one. "I'm sorry, doctor, I'm just following orders. Yes, doctor. All right." He places the phone back on the hook with a disgusted look and sits down in the swivel chair, leaning forward to see the action on the small security screen better as Simon slithers into the damaged vent.
In the elevator something clinks slightly before the hatch on the roof is lifted and set aside quietly. Two bare feet appear in the square open hatch, before Ryan lowers herself quietly onto the carpeted floor. Crouching down in the corner to lessen visibility she presses the "open door" button and waits silently as the doors slide open with a groan. The security guard sitting behind the curved desk is riveted by something on the little screen on the surface of his table, but he does glance up when he hears the sound. She is just out of his field of vision, and with a shrug he leans forward curiously as Bulley and McCarthy flank a marginally open door. He does not hear Ryan when she steps from the carpet onto the cold tiled floor, and he does not catch sight of her moving form as she slinks below the level of his elaborate desk. When a figure appears in front of him he glances up in surprise. "Did doctor Tilley-Cla…" but he gets no further than that. His eyes open wide in shock at the sight of the shirtless shaven-headed woman in front of him, before her hand connects rigidly with his face and sends him sprawling backwards off his chair, already unconscious. Leaning over the desk Ryan studies his fallen body intently before she straightens up and steals back to the elevator. Stretching up she grasps the edges of the hatch and pulls herself up through it. When she appears, the bound and gagged woman in the suit shrinks back from her with a muted sob. Without a word the soldier reaches forward and drags the woman closer by her arms, thrusting her through the hatch roughly before she lowers herself again, landing gracefully next to the crumpled doctor. Tangling her hand in the material that binds Claire's hands together, Ryan yanks her closer and wraps an arm casually around her waist. They approach the security desk and Ryan leads Claire behind it to approach the security guard who is lying on his back, his nose a mess of blood. When Claire begins to keen from behind the gag Ryan shakes her.
"Shut up."
She leans closer and, forcing Claire to kneel with her, searches his pockets. He does not carry a gun, but has an electronic stun gun in his belt. Ryan withdraws it and then discards it with little thought, going instead for the security card clipped to his pocket. Clipping it to the waistband of her linen pants just in case, she lifts Claire to her feet and drags her to the front door, which slides open silently. Glancing left and right Ryan notices the camera above her. With a sharp tug she drags the doctor a few feet down the pavement, to where a small red Renault is parked.
"Yours?"
Tears run down Claire's ashen face as she tremblingly shakes her head in the negative. With a grunt Ryan approaches the door and keeps a hold of Claire with one hand as she pounds the other through the window. Her wrists are bloody and raw where working at the cuffs has chafed them, and now her right hand is a mess of lacerations. Ripping open the door she shoves Claire into the passenger seat and slots in the seatbelt, leaning over her to unlock the drivers' door before she vaults over the bonnet and slides into the drivers' seat. Reaching under the steering wheel she rips out a handful of wires and begins to strip two hurriedly with her teeth. When Claire looks up she notices a reflection against the glass door - security are on their way. As the large front doors slide open quietly the car starts, and Ryan drives away from the shouting guards. When a shot rings out Claire cringes into the corner of her seat, but it thuds harmlessly into the back of the car. Unperturbed, Ryan hurtles towards the barrier, and when the security guard appears with his gun drawn she slides down the seat and presses her foot on the accelerator. He cannot shoot, for he has been told not to harm the hostage, and so he watches with frustration as the red Renault bursts through the barrier and screeches into the road, quickly disappearing around a bend in the country road.
------
"FUCK!" Captain Lewis slams the heel of his hand against his thigh before he turns to the tall man to the right of him. "Did you just shoot, Johnston?"
"Yes, sir." The man lowers his weapon awkwardly.
"Didn't I tell you not to shoot at them? Johnston?"
"Yes sir. You did, sir." The man holsters his pistol. "I'm sorry, sir."
"Don't do it again. Find out whose car that is. Find out where they're going. Find out where they're likely to go. Find me any damned thing I can use!" Spinning on his heel Captain Lewis goes into the foyer where one of the doctors is attending to the fallen security guard. Glancing at the man's bloodied nose with disdain he shoots a longing look at the elevator before he takes the emergency stairs to one. Instead of turning right towards the security center he turns left, limping along a narrow hallway that ends in a large aluminum door. When he knocks firmly a voice commands him to enter, and with a preliminary grounding of teeth he enters the office and presses the door closed behind him. Turning to face the man behind the massive desk Lewis clasps his hands behind his back and stands rigidly.
"Sit, Lewis." He complies. "Have you found her?" The question is asked in a benign tone of voice, but it does not fool Lewis. When he shakes his head in the negative the doctor explodes. "How the hell does she just walk out of here? As if sh
e's on some Sunday drive? Were your men even awake?"
Lewis grits his teeth before he replies. "This is not exactly a maximum security prison, doctor."
Balthazar Tilley-Clapham slams both hands on the table and leans forward, fixing his eerie pale blue eyes on Lewis. "Isn't that your job, Captain? Isn't security your area of expertise?"
"Yes. But you can't very well expect airtight security when you refuse to implement the measures I request."
"Bars in front of windows are not measures that Fairwater deems necessary, Captain Lewis. Ditto barbed wire and laser goodies. We are an institution, not a prison. Our patients are free to walk out should they choose - well, the majority of them, anyway. We would never get any financial backing if we turned this into an episode of Cell Block H, do you understand me?"
"I understand you. However, under those circumstances, I do not think that…"
"Oh, don't. Don't think." Doctor Tilley-Clapham rests his face in his palms for an exasperated moment. "You just find her. I have a call to make."
When the captain steps out, stiff-limbed and angry, the doctor heaves an aggravated sigh before he lifts up the telephone and dials a number from memory.
"May I speak to General Turner, please? Yes, it's doctor Tilley-Clapham phoning from Fairwater. Thank you… No, I'll hold… All right, thank you." He reaches forward and pokes a perfectly manicured finger into the miniature water feature on the corner of his desk, dabbling with the water half-heartedly. "Ah, George. I've got some bad news, I'm afraid… Of course you know. I should have expected no less… Well, he's the man you recommended, George; you can hardly blame me for that decision… Yes, they're tracking her now. She's got doctor Walsch with her… I could hardly tell that ponce Clarke that I didn't want her to come in, could I? Well, exactly. What's your next move?" He listens impatiently for a few minutes. "All right. It's a damned nuisance if you ask me. Funding isn't worth this rigmarole." He shakes his head at the adamant voice booming loudly on the other side of the line. "Sure, George. Nothing more I can do, so bring her back when you do. I'm just not going to buy any party hats, okay? Yes. Speak to Lewis about that. I have work to do, George, talk to me when you know anything. Goodbye." He slams the phone down, and then lifts it and slams it down again for the sheer satisfaction of it. Lifting the abused handset he peers at it belligerently as he dials another number.
"Garvey?"
"Yes, hello."
"Tilley-Clapham here. About the Ryan case… "
"She was perfectly tranquilized, doctor Clapham." Garvey usually sounds circumspect, but today it's much worse. "Enough to keep a small calf down. I don't know how she's standing."
"Not standing, Garvey, scaling walls and flapping an invisibility cloak. Better check your supplies. There's sure to be a report coming from this." Without saying goodbye Tilley-Clapham slams down the phone again. It shouldn't be his problem. He will continue as usual.
------
It is not long before something in the car begins to beep insistently and high-pitched. With a scowl Ryan leans down and roots around under the dashboard with one hand, managing to stop the sound with the twist of something. She glances in the rearview mirror once, and then sideways at her captive. Claire is crouched in the corner of the seat, as far away as she can shift with the seatbelt around her, her large blue eyes teary and filled with panic. There is a faint red weal on her cheek where she had tried to remove the too-tight gag in the elevator shaft. Impassively Ryan turns her fierce stare to the road, just as the beeping begins again. She leans forward again, but this time her maneuverings appear to have no results, and one long index finger taps thoughtfully on the steering wheel before she suddenly twists the wheel and drives off the road, careening past trees at a furious pace. Claire gasps behind her gag and begins to scrabble for her seatbelt lock, but with her hands tied as they are she has difficulty wrenching her shoulder close enough. Her hands are almost on the lock when the car screeches to a halt, throwing her against the dashboard roughly. Leaping out Ryan runs around the car to open her door. Leaning over the doctor, who is mutedly sobbing, she clicks open the seatbelt lock and lets it snap back before she grasps the doctor's bound hands and draws her from the car physically. Horror has turned Claire's legs to jelly, and she almost falls before the woman hoists her up, seemingly without effort. Half-dragging the smaller woman to the nearest tree Ryan studies the bark before she turns to Claire. When her hand reaches up the blonde winces inadvertently, but the long fingers hook under the torn material and pull the gag inelegantly over her head. When the woman draws the cloth from her mouth and drops it on the ground, she almost vomits from fright and the feeling of fresh air in her lungs. Ryan drops her head back to study the sky, and then turns to Claire. Her forceful green eyes are chillingly intense.
"What year is it?" Her voice is so low that it takes a moment before Claire understands - a moment too long, as Ryan shakes her unceremoniously. "What year?"
"2005." She almost cannot speak, she is so afraid. The soldier stares at her silently before she finally turns away and studies the country around them. Pine trees line the hills and tower above them, and there are no buildings in sight.
"Please…"
The woman turns to look at Claire, her eyes hostile.
"Please, let me go."
Without comment Ryan picks up the gag and starts to walk away from the car briskly, dragging the doctor with her. Claire's breath stutters and she stumbles over her own feet as she tries to keep up.
"If you let me go they'll give you what you want; I'm an important person."
"Hoorah for you." The soldier does not even turn. "I have what I want."
The woman leads her to a small clearing where, coolly, she drops the gag. Then she turns around and leads Claire all the way back. They walk past the car and towards the road. Once or twice Ryan freezes and listens, and when she is certain that there is nothing she leads Claire brusquely across the road. On the other side of the road she makes sure to avoid the long grass, and chooses a gravel entry point instead, turning to head north. Realizing that she will not be discarded now that the soldier is free Claire begins to cry silently. The hand around her wrist tightens, and then Ryan is staring at her with those mad eyes again.
"Please. Please…"
"Run."
------
Simon approaches Lewis as he steps into the foyer again. "Sir. The car belongs to a … " he peers at a notepad in his hand, "mister Chris Langley. Orderly. Stopped at the door today 'cause he was supposed to be in and out."
"Where did they go, Simon?"
"Well, the gate guard saw them turn left, obviously heading towards Fairfield."
"And?"
Wincing at his superior's impatient manner Simon blinks faster. "Johnston and Bulley are in one car, Markham and Smith in the other, heading towards town. We figure she's heading to the first place she can find."
"All right. How far are they from town?"
"At last report, about fifteen minutes. Make that ten now."
Nodding shortly Lewis turns to go back to the security center when Simon's radio croaks into life. The man speaks into it for a few minutes before he approaches the waiting captain. "Sir, Langley neglected to tell us that his car has an immobilizer installed."
Captain Lewis taps his fingers against his thigh. "Would she have been able to bypass it?"
"I doubt it. She's been out of touch with that sort of thing too long."
"Fuck!" For the nth time Lewis spits out a swearword. "Then she's somewhere between us and them, isn't she, Simon? Get on the phone and find out what the range of that immobilizer is, and then tell us where she is. Hurry, man!"
------
It is harder than she had expected to run with her hands tied tightly in front of her. The woman in front of her has a merciless hand wrapped around her one wrist and is forging through the undergrowth with no thought for her hostage's situation. Claire has stopped crying - it is hard to do when you're gasping for breath - and is
battling to stay upright; the ground is wildly uneven and her legs are weak from the coldness that has invaded her body. She had already lost her beautiful pair of high-heeled shoes in the elevator; the woman ripped them off and discarded them without a glance. Now she runs in her sheer stockings. The rocks, twigs and seedpods are grazing and bruising her feet, but she cannot very well complain when the woman in front of her has bare feet too, and raw bleeding wrists. Ryan's shirt, which she has used as a bond, is stained crimson where her right hand is thrust up against it on the doctor's arm. Claire has stopped wondering what will happen to her for the moment; she understand what the panic is doing to her, and is trying her hardest to be cogent for when the right opportunity presents itself. Her mind is under control, but her limbs are exhausted from the shock and the strain, and finally her legs give in beneath her and she stumbles to the ground, folding double.
