Decoding Darkness

by Marissa Farrar

  “Clay and Otto need help.”

  Isaac frowned. “Who?”

  “I’ll explain later, but he’s been shot.” I set off at a run, back toward the metal room where I’d left the two injured men. The four guys followed.

  “He helped me,” I called over my shoulder. “I don’t even know if he’s still alive.”

  Alex ran by my side, knowing he was the most important when it came to saving someone’s life. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m on it.”

  We reached the metal room where I’d left Clay and Otto. Otto was slumped against the wall, no longer pressing his hand against the bullet hole. The blood had spread across the front of his shirt, and his eyes were shut. Clay was still in the chair, and he managed to lift his head a little as we entered, his blue eyes open, and I was thankful to see recognition that we were here glinting in them.

  Glancing down, I spotted the broken pieces of metal and plastic that had once been the memory stick we’d all been searching for. I didn’t want to have to explain what had happened to Isaac yet, however, and I used my foot to try to push them to one side, hoping no one would get suspicious and start asking questions. It would need to come out, but not right now. Right now I needed them to concentrate on helping Clay and Otto.

  “Shit.” Alex dropped down to a crouch beside Otto and pressed two fingers against the inside of Otto’s wrist to feel for a pulse. He frowned as he concentrated then gave a small nod. “He’s still alive, but he doesn’t look good. He needs a hospital. The bullet has most likely caused internal injuries which are more than I can cope with on the road. I’ll patch him up for now, but we need to get him to the nearest hospital, and fast.”

  I nodded. “Okay. Whatever we need to do.” I looked to Clay, who still appeared dazed, but was at least conscious. “Clay needs your help, too.”

  Kingsley went to Clay, crouching beside him. “Hey, hero. How are you feeling?”

  Clay managed to lift his head, but doing so made him wince. “Head ... fucking ... killing ...” he managed to grate out.

  “Yeah, I bet. Hollan gave you a decent whack. Good thing there’s not too much brain in there to damage.”

  His good-natured teasing caused the faintest of smiles to touch Clay’s lips, and I thought it was possibly the best thing I’d ever seen. Clay was still in there. He was going to be all right. But the effort of trying to stay awake and communicate must have been too much for him, as his eyes rolled again and his chin dropped back down.

  Kingsley looked toward us. “I think we need to get out of here.”

  Alex went to move Otto, but Isaac lifted a hand, stopping him.

  “Wait.” Isaac’s jaw was gritted as he stared at Otto. “Who is he, Darcy? One of Hollan’s men?”

  I shook my head. “No, not quite. He was brought in to help. That’s all.”

  “Help?” Isaac frowned. “He was helping Hollan?”

  My gut twisted as it dawned on me that Isaac would probably kill Otto if he found out he’d almost injected me with drugs. I didn’t want that.

  “Yes,” I said carefully, “but he didn't know the full story.” I looked back at Otto, to the cut I’d given him. I’d slashed his face in return for him attempting to inject me, but he’d also saved me on two occasions. Maybe he hadn’t started off as one of the good guys, but I wasn’t about to let him die.

  “You know what I’m asking you, love,” Isaac said, catching me in his green gaze. “Is this man even worth saving?”

  I nodded. “Yes. He’s worth saving.”

  That was all I needed to say. Isaac took me at my word. “Come on, then. There’s a hospital about twenty miles from here.” He looked to Alex. “Is he likely to make it?”

  Alex’s expression was pinched. “I can’t promise anything.” He focused his attention on me. “You know we can’t stay with him at the hospital, right, Darc?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

  We would have needed to explain bringing in someone with a gunshot wound. While it pained me that we’d effectively be dumping and running, at least I knew Otto would be in good hands.

  We helped both Otto and Clay outside. Kingsley and Alex carried Otto between them. Clay came back around and was able to stand. Isaac wedged his shoulder under his armpit and took most of his weight, while I supported the other side. Lorcan, with his own injured shoulder, wasn’t able to help physically, but he went ahead, covering us with his weapon in case other members of Hollan’s team decided to make a surprise appearance as we stepped outside.

  The helicopter had disappeared now. I thought I could hear the faintest drone in the sky, but it could easily have been my ears playing tricks on me. They were still ringing from the gun going off so close to me in the metal room.

  I had to tell Isaac that Hollan had made himself a new memory stick, one that wasn’t encrypted, and the thought of doing so made me sick with nerves. He still didn’t know Hollan had gotten away with what he wanted and could access the coordinates at any time. I knew I needed to tell him, but my focus was getting help for Otto and Clay. We needed to get away from this place. For all we knew, Hollan might be sending a new team in to put an end to us.

  We could fit Otto in the van, but the vehicles Hollan had used were still right outside, and they were closer.

  “Take one of the cars,” Isaac instructed. “Darcy, you go with your friend, and take Alex with you. Lorcan, you drive. We’ll follow directly behind in the van.”

  We nodded our agreement. Alex and Kingsley were both carrying Otto, and they changed direction to take him to the nearest car. Clay was able to stand, but his eyes still rolled and his body felt loose, as though someone had cut all the ligaments. Though I knew Otto was in worse shape, it still killed me to have to leave Clay’s side.

  “We’ll take care of Clay,” Isaac said.

  Alex must have sensed my reluctance, too. “He’ll be fine,” he called over to me. “Just a bad concussion, I think. We can take him for scans as soon as we get back to base.”

  The guys got Otto onto the back seat of the car. Alex climbed in beside him to try to help where he could, and Lorcan got behind the wheel. I assumed they’d be able to hotwire the vehicle if they had to, but Lorcan started the engine, so he must have found the keys still in the ignition. I moved to climb in the other side, but before I got into the passenger seat, Isaac stopped me, his hand on my arm.

  “What happened back there, Darcy? We couldn’t get to you. You shut the rear door behind you, and it locked automatically. The people in the chopper were covering the front entrance, so we couldn’t get in there without risking getting shot, though we tried. It wasn’t until the chopper took off again that we were able to get access to the building.”

  Nerves tumbled through me as I remembered I still hadn’t told him that Hollan had managed to get hold of the coordinates. I was dreading his reaction.

  “I should never have shut the door. I wasn't thinking straight. I only knew I needed to stay with Clay.” I bit my lower lip and took a breath, before blurting out the bad news. “Hollan got the coordinates.”

  His head snapped to me. “How?”

  “I had to give him the code. I’m sorry. He was going to kill Clay. I had no choice.”

  “Fuck.”

  “He downloaded them onto a new memory stick—one that wasn’t encoded—and then destroyed the original.”

  Isaac’s hand locked into his hair as he shook his head in disbelief.

  I put out my hand as though to steady him. “But I saw the coordinates, too. I know where they are. We might not have the original memory stick, but I can tell Devlin the locations of the other bases, and we can warn everyone about Hollan.”

  “I can’t believe that man got away again,” Kingsley said, his hands on his hips as he shook his head. “He’s like a cat with nine lives.”

  Isaac’s lips thinned. “There's nothing we can do about it now. At least you know the coordinates as well.” He shot me a look. “You’re not going to forget
them, are you?

  I shook my head. “No, I won’t. I swear.” Even as I said the words, the coordinates danced in front of my face, a series of numbers with multiple digits after the decimal point, showing a total of six variations. I didn’t know how accurate the coordinates would be. Did they show the exact locations of the bases, or did they only drill as deep as the city or region they were hidden in?

  Isaac sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “At least with us also knowing the locations of the bases, we can prepare people for a possible attack. If Hollan had gotten away with the coordinates, leaving the other bases open to attack, and with us with no way of being able to warn them, things would be looking a whole lot worse right now.”

  I nodded, thankful Isaac was looking at the positive side of this. He was right, but that didn’t stop me from feeling wretched about the whole thing. I wished I could have done more. He must have seen my thoughts flit across my face, and his lips quirked.

  “Hey, love, don’t beat yourself up for this. We don’t always expect to get the perfect outcome, we just do our best. Okay? I’m not going to pretend I like your impulsiveness or your need to be so damned self-sacrificial, but I understand why you did it.”

  “We got Clay back,” I said, my voice small.

  Isaac gave a half smile and bobbed his head in a nod. “Yes, we did, and that was mainly down to you.”

  I took that to be as close to praise as Isaac was ever going to give. I wasn’t sure I deserved it, anyway. Yes, Clay was alive, and so was I, and we were able to go back to Devlin with the locations of the other bases, but Hollan also having that information wasn’t the ideal ending to all of this.

  Alex leaned out of the open rear door of the car, where he sat with Otto lying across his lap and bloodied rags pressed against the wound in his chest. “We need to go if you want him to stand any chance of surviving.”

  I gave Isaac one final grateful smile then turned and ran back to the car. Lorcan sat behind the wheel with the engine running, ready to go. The moment I jumped into the passenger seat and slammed the door, he was pulling out of there, the wheels screeching against the cracked concrete.

  We left my old prison behind us.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Lorcan drove with one hand on the wheel, sitting back in the seat, but pushing the car at speed, looking every bit the bad boy racer. All the way out here, it wasn’t as though we were likely to come across another vehicle. Running into wildlife was probably our most likely hazard.

  I assumed he knew where he was going. He wasn’t using a sat nav, or apps on his phone.

  “How’s Otto doing?” I asked Alex, turning in my seat to look at him.

  Alex’s lips thinned. “He’s still with us, and the blood flow seems to have slowed, but that could just be because his heart isn’t pumping as efficiently now.”

  That didn’t sound good.

  “Do you think he’s going to make it?”

  “Honestly, Darc. I have no idea. He’s one lucky son of a bitch if he does.”

  “Drive faster, Lorcan,” I said.

  Lorcan glanced over at me. “I’m going as fast as I can.”

  I bit my lower lip. Otto had taken that bullet for me. I didn’t want him to die, but I also didn’t want to feel the weight of his death on my shoulders. It was a completely selfish thing to think, but I couldn’t help it. It was just another thing I’d blame myself for.

  In the wing mirror, I caught sight of the black van, following at speed to keep up with us. I hoped Clay was all right. Alex had said it was most likely a severe concussion that was affecting him so badly, but I’d seen how hard Hollan had hit him with the gun. He might have a fractured skull, but we wouldn’t know for sure until we got back to base and he was able to have a scan. I wondered if it would be better for us to take Clay into the same hospital where we planned to leave Otto, but I knew the others would never go for it. They stayed under the radar, and that included avoiding places like hospitals, where too many questions would be asked.

  As we got closer to the city, traffic began to build and Lorcan was forced to slow. Getting the attention of the cops wasn’t something we wanted either. None of us wanted to explain why we had a man dying from a gunshot wound in the back of the car.

  Lorcan navigated the streets, his neck craned as he peered out of the windshield. “Keep your eyes open for any signs for the hospital.”

  I nodded and copied his stance, my gaze flicking over every street sign. I glanced behind us to see we’d lost the van containing Isaac, Clay, and Kingsley somewhere along the way. I said so to Lorcan.

  “Don’t worry,” he replied. “We’ll catch up with them. I expect Isaac won’t have wanted the van linked to this vehicle if we’re caught on any CCTV.”

  That made sense. We could get rid of this car, but we needed the van.

  I spotted a familiar sign. “Look, there.” I pointed to the sign for the hospital. “Take the next exit.”

  “Great.”

  Lorcan did as I instructed.

  In the back seat, Otto began to make a strange sound each time he took a breath, a rattle that didn’t sound good at all.

  “We need to hurry, guys,” Alex called from the back. “Sounds like he’s got fluid on his lungs. He’s not going to make it much longer without surgery.”

  I leaned forward in my seat, as though that could somehow make us go faster.

  A tall, gray building with numerous windows across each floor appeared to our left.

  “There,” I said, pointing, as though any of the others were likely to miss it.

  Lorcan pulled into the emergency bay. It was currently clear of any paramedics, and I spotted an empty wheelchair sitting outside the entrance.

  “Go and get the wheelchair, Darc,” Alex said. “We’ll get your friend into it.”

  I threw open the car door and rushed out. I wished it was nighttime, so at least I’d have been covered by darkness. Doing this kind of thing in the middle of the day felt even more wrong, for some reason. As I was grabbing the chair, Alex and Lorcan both helped pull Otto out of the car. I made it back to them with the wheelchair, and they placed him in it as gently as they could.

  “You’re going to need to take him in on your own,” Alex said. “You won’t look as suspicious as if a group of guys turns up with him. Tell them you found him like this, and that you think his name is Otto, but that’s it. Then when he’s in good hands, say you left your purse in the car, and get the hell out of there. We’ll be waiting right around the corner for you, okay?”

  I took a deep breath and nodded. He was right, and I needed to do this, but I still felt nervous. I couldn’t hesitate, however. Delaying because of my anxiety might cost Otto his life.

  I felt horribly self-conscious as I grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and pushed Otto through the doors and into the building. The smell of the place hit me first—the over-exuberant smell of bleach and other cleaning products overlying the baser stink vomit, blood, and shit. The soles of my sneakers squeaked on the linoleum flooring as I tried to get traction to push the wheelchair along.

  There were people everywhere—lined up at the reception desk, sitting on plastic chairs, hugging each other in corners. I felt as though everyone was staring at me, as though they knew I was involved in something I shouldn't be. Truth was, everyone was staring at me. After all, I had an unconscious man, covered in blood, in a wheelchair. My gaze darted around anxiously, and I spotted a nurse rushing toward me. She was a little older than me, in her early thirties, at a guess, with silky dark hair which was tied into a ponytail. I felt horrible handing Otto over to this well-meaning woman, but I didn’t have any choice.

  “He needs help,” I cried. “I think he’s been shot.”

  “What happened?” the nurse asked as she reached me. She bent to place her fingers against a spot on Otto’s throat to feel for a pulse.

  “I don’t know. I found him like this.”

  She glanced up at me, her lips thinn
ed, her nostrils flared. “You should have called the paramedics.”

  I bit my lower lip. “I thought it would be faster if I brought him myself.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Otto, I think. I don’t really know him. I’m sorry.”

  “Right.” She gave me a quizzical look, and I knew she didn’t completely believe my story. “Has he got any ID on him?”

  “I’m not sure,” I repeated. I felt horrible about leaving Otto, but I was desperate to get out of there. The nurse motioned one of the doctors.

  “We need a crash cart,” she yelled, and, to my relief, took control of the chair. Wheeling Otto away from me, I gave him a final glance, wishing there was more I could have done.

  “I’m just going to get my purse from the car,” I called after the nurse, though she wasn’t even listening. I was relieved, in a way, and backed up, taking a few steps, before turning and hurrying out the same way I’d come in. I ignored all the strange glances, keeping my head down, my hair falling over my face. I hoped I wasn’t going to appear on CCTV, wanted for questioning regarding a man with a gunshot wound, any time soon.

  As soon as I was outside, I started to run. Lorcan waited in the car a little farther down the road, and I kept up my pace, running toward it, desperate to get out of there. I wondered what had happened to the van with Isaac, Clay, and Kingsley inside. I hoped we would reach the base without Clay getting any worse.

  Lorcan must have seen me coming in the rear view mirror. He leaned across the passenger seat and threw open the door, ready for me to scramble in. My heart thumped, both from the adrenaline, and from running.

  I threw myself in and pulled the door shut behind me. Lorcan had pulled away from the curb and was back on the road before I’d even had the chance to catch my breath.

  “How did it go?” Alex leaned forward, into the gap between the seats. Otto’s blood covered his hands and the front of his clothing. He did his best to wipe his palms clean on the front of his pants.