by M. L. Banner
“Leanne, what are we doing in here?”
“I’m playing hide and seek,” she stated as if it was obvious to the world, and then ran behind the cluttered desk in the small office.
Melanie knew she couldn’t leave her, and she couldn’t take her along. “Come on, Leanne. We need to get you to your mom—”
The door popped open and someone bounded in.
Automatically reaching for the Glock in her waistband, she realized just before firing it was Deanna.
“There you are, you stinker,” Deanna said, barely regarding Melanie or her gun and walking over to the desk where Leanne’s little face was sticking out. Deanna plopped herself down beside her daughter on the floor and propped open her purse in her lap.
“Great,” Melanie said standing up, “now that you two are together, I can leave.” She reached for the door.
“Hey, Mel.” Deanna unscrewed the cap of a bottle of bourbon and took a swig, eyes rolling back. “Ahhhh, that’s the ticket.” Then as if nothing had happened, Deanna stated, “Oh it’s just the two guards my dad assigned to me.” She took another swig.
“Shhh,” Melanie pleaded, her hand flapping like a bird. She held the door open just a crack, her ear only slightly exposed to anyone walking by. She heard several men running their way. She closed the door and scurried to Deanna and Leanne, who were sitting together, watching her.
“I told you,” Deanna said too loudly, “it’s just the two idiots protecting me. Hey do you think—”
“Shhhh,” Melanie flapped both hands at them, one holding her Glock.
“Yeah-yeah,” Deanna whispered. “But do you think Buddy—you know, the hunky guard—is cute?” And then she was quiet as several men’s voices came from the other side of the door.
“Sir, I’m sure they went this way.”
“If you lost my daughter and granddaughter, I will fillet your skin off and feed you to the cannibals myself.”
Westerling! Melanie thought. Her mouth popped open, head fell back, eyes shuttered. That bastard is still alive?
She held her gun up to punctuate her resolve and rose to finish it once and for all, when Leanne spouted, “It’s Cra—” Deanna’s hand clapped over the child’s mouth.
“Did you hear that?” said one of the other voices, outside the door.
“Did it come from an office or down the hall? My damn hearing is still ringing from the explosion,” Westerling groused.
“Down the hallway, sir, I think,” said another tentative voice.
Multiple footsteps ran away and down the hallway.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” asked Deanna. She stood up, holding Leanne’s hand, her bottle back in her purse. “Please take us with. We won’t be a bother. I just have to get us away from my father. He’s an evil man, you know?” Oh, sister, you have no clue, do you? thought Mel.
She was tempted to leave them, hunt the bastard down and finish the job Carrington started. But twice, Deanna had asked for her help to escape. And Melanie wanted to make sure the other scientists got out. What difference did it make if there were two more? Besides, it would really piss off Westerling, and this place was about to become radioactive. She couldn’t leave them.
“Fine, let’s get moving. But both of you need to be quiet.”
They slipped out the door and hurried down the hallway toward their way out.
“Brother John,” announced Ben, another apostle of the Teacher and a good warrior. “We have taken Bios-2. The occupants are running and hiding. But, otherwise, we are meeting only little resistance. A few men reported some of the guards going into that building.” He pointed to one of the taller structures they were standing near. “Do I have your permission to hunt them down?”
Two other leaders of the one-quarter of God’s Army that the Teacher had left him listened attentively, waiting for John’s commands.
“Yes, Brother Ben, find them.” Then to all three he said, “If anyone resists or has a weapon, shoot them; no exceptions.”
They all left John, who eyeballed the complex, which was so much larger on the inside than it looked on the outside—and it looked huge outside.
If the Teacher was successful with Cicada, perhaps he would let John command Bios-2, his own little kingdom. In a way, just as he had been trying to convince the Teacher and all the Teacher’s followers, he was like a god. Even if his own heaven was a beat-up giant complex and a few hundred people, he felt godlike at this moment.
He beamed, full of pride for his success.
Westerling was beside himself with anger. Bios-2 had probably already fallen to those heathen barbarians. And yet the only thing that mattered to him was that his daughter and granddaughter had been lost by his two incompetent guards. He had to find them quickly and then get back to the bunker, where he’d left a guard and Bill King. They had come around and were almost back to the bunker, just before the turbine room entrance, but there was not much more to search. They were running out of options and time, as he suspected the barbarians were already celebrating their spoils and would be down here soon enough.
“Should we double back?” asked one of the incompetents as they turned the corner and hoofed it down the hallway to the bunker near the end. The other three looked at each other, unsure what to do next, and none wanting to stick his neck out and get killed by their crazy boss.
Westerling and the others halted. “Am I seeing correctly?” he asked.
They watched Melanie Reid come down the end of their hallway and start toward them, beckoning others to follow. It was Deanna and Leanne. They’re with that bitch!
“There they are! Get them!” Westerling bellowed, spittle spraying, bloody face bandages fluttering, crooked finger protruding.
Reid turned her head in alarm to see her worst nightmare: Westerling definitely still alive sending guards their way, and herself babysitting two kids, one big drunk one and one little one.
“Oh shit, he looks pissed,” Deanna said with a slur.
They were about to run back the way they had come when they saw a group of men wearing red robes marching their way. One of the red-robed men called out, seeing them, “She has a weapon, sir. Should we shoot even though there is a child?”
“You have your orders,” said another.
They were stuck at the elbow of these two connecting hallways. “No choice,” Melanie said. From her pack she yanked a folded bandana and once more she unwrapped their security key.
“Eww,” Leanne shrieked pointing to Melanie holding up Richards’ severed thumb.
Melanie pressed it up against the plate and the door clicked open. “Inside,” she demanded.
When they were in, Melanie laid out three shots down each hallway before she slipped in and closed the door.
Muffled shots were volleyed from both directions of the elbow.
“Arghhhh!” Westerling bellowed his frustration.
One of his men reached the B216 door and tried to pull it open. He was torn to pieces by multiple shots coming from the other hallway.
The other guards, running full out but seeing their fellow guard get mowed down, slid on the concrete floor as they tried to stop. Two were cut down; the other, barely protected by the hallway wall, spun and ran back toward Westerling. “The invaders are here!” he yelled, joining Westerling in the bunker.
They sealed the door.
39.
Bios-2
“It’s hot in here. And I have to go pee,” Leanne whined.
“I know, honey. It will get cooler in a little bit, and I’m sure Melanie knows where the bathrooms are.” Deanna’s look said, Please confirm this, would you?
Melanie held up at the base of the stairwell, waiting for them to get down safely. She looked to Leanne, being tugged by her mom down the last couple steps, and said, “There’s a bathroom right over there, sweetie.” She pointed to a door inside a little nook, beside the stairwell.
“You have two minutes,” she instructed Deanna. “I don’t know how long t
he senator will be occupied with the invaders.” She watched them go into the unisex bathroom and was glad for the moment to think. She had to figure out what to do next. She obviously needed to disable the bomb, for now, but then what? Best she could figure, they were stuck down there. They could wait it out, but for how long? The invaders must have taken Bios-2. They weren’t going to go away. She needed a way out.
She heard some sort of rumbling above; it was like muffled automatic gunfire, but from something very large, much higher caliber than from a regular rifle.
“Come on, we need to go now,” she said, stepping their way. Something caught her eye. It was a notebook lying on the floor, just inside the shadows of the nook. She bent over to pick it up and thumbed through it. She bolted upright, a burst of adrenaline pumping through her blood. “It’s Carrington’s!” she sputtered.
He must have been taking notes of the guards’ comings and goings, because it had guard names or “Guard #2” and “Guard #3” where he didn’t know a name, followed by the time he saw the guard and when they had left. But there wasn’t much more. She started again from the front of the notebook, intending to look more intently. On the second page, she held up and examined a scribble in his handwriting.
She drew the notebook to her chest; its pages pressed up against her, and she closed her eyes feeling his warmth, as if he were there showing her the way. She would have loved to stop and take some time to relish this, one of the last things he had written. She wanted to savor it. But there was no time.
Mel looked at the scribble again, rubbing her eyes with her sleeve, and sniffed in a breath. Best she could make out, it said, “Shaft Room door! Where does it go to? Looks like old tunnels. Guessing to other areas of complex and maybe out? Need to explore!” Above this was an infinity symbol, their symbol. This note was meant for her.
Looking up and past the turbine room, she could see a big area where the giant steam pipes exited into the turbine generator in the middle of the floor before her. That must be the shaft room.
Directly above her, a loud clatter sounded. No longer muffled sounds; this was inside, just above them. They must have broken through because now she heard the rattle of multiple footsteps on the metal grating of the walkway above.
Melanie ducked in further to gather the two girls as they popped out looking a little more refreshed.
“Quick, we gotta run for it. Be quiet.” Melanie grabbed Leanne’s hand and took off toward the Shaft Room. Deanna raced to keep up.
Ben and his men had broken through the hardened security door. He stepped in, his men right behind, and they were at once blasted by moist heat and awed by the vastness of this room. They walked up to the railing and looked down. This must be where Bios-2 generated its power. This was an important area they needed to protect.
“There they are!” one of their warriors yelled. He lifted his gun and intended to shoot, but Ben grabbed the gun before he could fire.
“You idiot. If you hit something vital, we may lose power. We will need this place when the Teacher returns. Go down and get them,” Ben commanded, and the men raced down the ladder single file.
He watched the woman combatant—that’s what they had called them in the US military, so long ago—dragging a small child behind her as she and another woman ran into a large room with big pipes coming out of it.
“Looks like they cornered themselves,” he announced proudly, and then followed the last warrior down the stairs.
“Here,” Melanie said to herself as much as she did to Deanna and Leanne. It was a single door, its paint peeling from the steam. To the left of the doorknob was the infinity symbol, roughly scribbled in pen. It must be the doorway Carrington had written about and maybe their only way out. “Okay, this should lead to an old tunnel; go in there and see what you can find, but don’t come back out. I’ll be along in a few minutes.”
Deanna was hesitant. “Please don’t leave us,” she begged.
“No worry there. I just need to make sure the ones in red don’t follow us in. Please go.” She scooted them through the door, and then turned to address the problem. She had maybe two minutes before they would be down the stairs, and maybe another thirty seconds to clear the floor and get here. She needed more time. Think, Mel, think!
Then she saw it, but she needed a diversion or something to keep them back while she worked. She ducked in the door and yelled, “Wait” to Deanna, who was only a few footsteps away—they hadn’t moved. To Leanne she said, “Stay here.” Grabbing Deanna, she barked “Come” and dragged her to the door. “Listen. Your life and your daughter’s life depend on you.” Deanna looked scared but was also trying to pay attention. Melanie thrust her gun into the woman’s hand, and Deanna’s fingers automatically wrapped around it. “You see someone move, aim here and here,”—she pointed to the sights, thrust her arm out and demonstrated—“and squeeze the trigger only once. Stand here.” Melanie placed her behind the wall’s edge. “You have eight bullets, shoot only one bullet a minute. Got it?”
Deanna nodded, now looking more alert than Melanie had ever seen her before.
Melanie grabbed a crescent wrench she had had seen earlier and jumped on top of two-foot-thick pipe, which ran horizontally about a foot off the floor. She touched another pipe that ran from it vertically upward to an elbow-joint about even with her head. It then ran sideways out of sight. It was hot, but not too hot. If she guessed correctly, this one was a vent pipe, used only if needed for getting rid of excess steam. All she had to do is detach the pipe at the elbow and turn on the valve and no one would be coming that way for a while.
Deanna fired her first shot and yipped when she did. Melanie wasn’t sure if it was fear or excitement.
“I think I peed, just a little,” Deanna chortled.
Melanie worked on the first bolt, putting literally her entire body weight on it, when it finally came loose.
Second shot.
“This is fun!” she yelped excitedly.
“Mommy,” screeched Leanne, just inside the tunnel door.
“Not right now, baby-girl. Your mommy has a job to do.”
Shots erupted from inside the turbine room.
“Oh my, they’re shooting back. Now what?”
“Keep shooting,” Melanie grunted, working on the second bolt. “Remember, one bullet every minute.”
She fired her third shot.
“Mel, what if there is more than one of the red-robed people… person?” Deanna half-whined and half-giggled.
Melanie cringed, and got the third bolt loose.
“Shoot the bastard, will you?” Melanie hollered.
She pulled on the fourth bolt, her arms already tired. She wasn’t going to make it in time.
Bang-bang-bang.
Melanie looked out to the room and saw two invaders in red on the floor.
“Ha! I got two of them. Take that, suckers,” she taunted.
The fourth bolt came free; the fitting felt loose already. Only one more to go.
The fifth bolt unscrewed easily. She quickly tried to remove each of the bolts, now that they were loose.
Bang-bang.
“Umm, Melanie. I think my gun is broken. Can you get me another?”
Melanie got the last bolt out and stared at Deanna, who pointed the gun at her. It was empty. Damn, the backpack was on the other side of the door, with Leanne.
Melanie didn’t waste any time. Using her shoulder and head, she shoved against the underside of the elbowed-pipe. Her neck burned instantly. She pushed with everything now, including her hands; with the rush of adrenaline and panic, she didn’t feel them burn.
More gunfire. Lots of it from the turbine room.
“Melanie, they’re coming.”
“Push!” she goaded herself.
It broke free.
“Melanie?” She was whining now, backing away toward the tunnel door.
A red-robed figure sprang from the doorway and bounded toward Deanna. Melanie didn’t think, her reflexes
working perfectly in spite of her fatigue. She yanked the knife from her waistband and heaved it at where the invader would be, an inch or two in front of Deanna, finding the man’s face. Deanna screamed and bolted for the tunnel door.
Close enough!
Melanie hopped down and kicked the valve lever, opening up the vent. Steam billowed out in great rolling torrents. Its heat and sulfur smell already burned noses and eyes.
She dashed to the door.
Someone screamed behind her. It was a cry of agony.
Melanie slammed the door, but just before it closed, she could see two men on the ground. One was writhing in pain, and she was sure his face was sliding off.
Westerling did not want to be stuck down in his bunker with Bill and two guards forever. He could barely stand being down here much longer. Besides, although the bunker was designed for weeks of hunkering down, it was only another layer of protection to allow his troops to secure the complex. There would be no securing Bios-2. He knew it was lost to the religious nutjobs who had crawdadded him.
He reached behind the short bar, grabbed a bottle—one of about a hundred bourbon bottles lined up—unscrewed the top, took a big satisfying drink and screwed it tight.
“Give me your weapon and hold this,” he said to one of the two guards, who took the bottle and handed the senator his sidearm. Westerling could feel his face leaking blood, but he didn’t care at this point. He was alive, but he had to figure out some way to get his daughter and granddaughter out. He hated that bitch, Reid, but knew that she was so damned dogged about things, she would probably protect them with her life. That would have to do, because there was no way back through the way they came, nothing waiting except their deaths.
He stepped around the bar and from behind the cabinet he pulled on a lever. The bar slid sideways, uncovering a stairway down into darkness. Westerling grabbed two flashlights and gave one to the guard with the bottle and the empty holster. “You’ll need this; it’s dark down there.”
