That spurred Bobseyn and his deputies into action, the sheriff yelling, “Keep them away from Dent!”
Odd, Dent thought, as he avoided a weakly thrown punch aimed his way, returning it with one of his own. He expected the sheriff to have yelled something more along the lines of “Keep Dent away from them.”
A woman raked her nails across his neck and he spun to bring the barrel of his gun hard into her neck. She folded over, only to be replaced by two more devotees. Dent was alone in a surge of wild-faced devotees. He leaned to the side, brought up his gun, squeezed the trigger twice.
Stepping over the dropped bodies into the temporary void they’d left, Dent planned his next moves. Two women stood in front of him, a young man to his right, and two older men were coming in from his left. Before he could choose which target to drop first, two loud barks erupted from behind him.
One woman in front of him dropped. The young man to the side did as well. He heard both moaning in pain before two more non-lethal shotgun blasts from the deputies behind him cleared more devotees from Dent’s path.
Bobseyn called Dent’s name in warning as he came up beside him.
The sheriff shoved a man back away from Dent, sent a fist into another man’s stomach, and turned on Dent. He shouted, “I said no killing!”
That explained the man’s yell to his deputies to keep the devotees away from Dent. Bobseyn’s plan wasn’t to protect Dent, it was to protect the devotees by bringing them down before Dent could. Whatever the reason, Dent pushed on, literally stepping on and over men and women that got in his way.
What these people lacked in combat skills they more than made up for in erratic, wild attacks. Dent had been bitten three times, scratched in numerous places, and taken a large rock in the forehead. The three deputies and their shotguns followed Dent and Bobseyn, firing into any devotees that ventured too close or wouldn’t stay down.
They were halfway to the building when Dent heard the shrill sound of electricity hum throughout the air. It reminded him of an electric fence. Except there was no fence in the immediate area.
Screams erupted from the devotees around Dent and Bobseyn, and the sheriff put a heavy hand on Dent’s shoulder.
“Something’s trying to ….” Bobseyn bit his lips.
Dent put two and two together. “There’s an active eField surrounding the building,” he said. “Go back, Bobseyn.”
Bobseyn shook his head. His eyes looked ready to bulge from their sockets. “I’m … I’m afraid ….”
“That’s the eField.”
“No. I’m afraid … to leave you alone.” Bobseyn smacked his gun into a screaming woman at his side and yelled at Dent to get moving. If the eField was enough to defeat Bobseyn’s moderator then it must be strong indeed.
Dent shrugged, kicked aside a young man running toward the front gate in an effort to get away from the intense fear pulsing around the area, and moved on. Ten steps in and the electric buzz died down, but the screams and chaos still reigned behind them. More shotgun blasts echoed in the air. The deputies had their work cut out for them.
Bobseyn pulled up next to Dent. He was panting heavily. “The effects aren’t as strong now. Must have passed through the worst of it.”
Dent agreed. He looked ahead. Only three men stood in Dent and Bobseyn’s path. Built like those who’d spent their days toiling in the fields, these men spread out with some modicum of self-restraint. Dent raised his gun, sighted the chest of the man on the left.
“Dent,” Bobseyn said from his side. “Don’t.”
Another shotgun blast sounded back near the gate, Timson yelling at a devotee to stay on the ground. Two more blasts sounded almost simultaneously.
Dent teased the trigger. The three men didn’t move out of his way.
“What if that were Kasumi standing there?” Bobseyn said.
“She’s not.”
“What if she were watching you right now?”
“She’s not.” Dent squeezed. Twice.
Two of the men howled in pain as their ankles were shot out from under them. He wanted to kill them where they stood, but Bobseyn was right. If Kasumi found out he’d killed when he could have avoided it, he didn’t know what she would think. He erred on the side of safety.
Bobseyn intercepted the third man as he lunged for Dent, jamming a Taser into the man’s exposed side. There was a click, a spark, a spasm, and then the devotee crashed to the ground, motionless.
Dent wasted no time and stepped over one of the men with a ruined ankle, kicking him across the jaw as he did.
“What was that for?” snapped Bobseyn.
“I didn’t have my Taser ready.”
“You didn’t bring a Taser.”
“Exactly.”
The sensor for the sliding glass doors was either disabled or not working, so Dent fired into the panes. Amidst the shower of shattered glass, multiple screams erupted from within the building.
Bobseyn pushed past Dent, through the frame of broken glass, and into the lobby.
Dent was only two seconds behind entering, but had to take twice as long to make sense of the chaos that he had just stepped into.
XXXVIII
Banging on the door didn’t work, except to bruise her hands. Screaming didn’t do anything either, except to make her throat raw and scratchy.
Frustrated, Kasumi put her back to the door and fought back the stupid tears that threatened to come pouring out. She told herself she wouldn’t cry. She was too old to cry. She started to knock the back of her head against the door, lightly at first, then harder and harder. Her vision shook and her teeth rattled, and she would have kept going, but something on the screens on the other side of the room caught her jumbled attention.
One of the cameras showed a hallway where three people had suddenly stopped, turning their heads to their left. They spoke to each other, and then after a moment, continued on the way they had been going. She slammed her elbow into the door, yelling out a string of words that Dent would no doubt chastise her for using.
On the screen, one of the three slowed and then turned back. He paused, shook his head, and then jogged to catch up with his friends.
Could … could that hallway be near the room she was locked in?
She waited, paced the small room, watching the same screen until a couple appeared in the camera’s view. Rushing to the door, she kept her eyes on the screen as she began to pound the heel of her foot as hard as she could against the door.
The couple stopped in the middle of the hallway.
Kasumi smiled.
They’d heard her. And now it was a matter of getting them to come to her, like reeling in a fish. And the best way to catch a fish is to use bait that drew them in, something they couldn’t resist.
She took a few deep breaths, relaxed her arms, wiggled her fingers at her sides, and pictured herself back in Sheriff Bobseyn’s house, back in the downstairs hallway with the three closed doors. Two of the doors she had already opened, checking to see if there was anything cool in the rooms. There really wasn’t, but the third door she’d never tried. Never had a chance.
She concentrated, eyes scrunching, blocking out the grey and white of the screens in front of her.
What was in that room? Was it Cherry’s room?
She let her imagination go wild, drawn to the numerous possibilities that lay behind that door. What would Cherry’s room look like? Did it have pictures of … what? Horses? What did people out here in the middle of nowhere do for fun? Maybe there were pictures of horses, musical carousels, trophies or ribbons from Cherry’s childhood.
She ran with her thoughts. Minutes passed as she floated in that sea of ‘what ifs,’ each new thought more fantastical than the other, all the while feeding her curiosity. She pulsed her thoughts out, mentally screaming to the world that what she wanted most was to find out what that last door hid. Anything could be behind that door. She wondered if—
Click.
Kasumi snapped back to
the present just as the doorknob behind her started to twist. She immediately pulled her emotions back in, like a sponge sucks in water. Then, moving like a ghost, she put herself flat against the wall near the door, telling her heart to shut up before it gave her away.
The door creaked open, spilling light into the dark room. Kasumi sucked in her breath, making herself smaller, more unnoticeable, more invisible. The open door hid her from view, but still ….
“Well?” a man’s voice asked from out in the hallway.
“Well what?” a woman replied, just on the other side of the halfway-opened door.
“What’s in there?”
A sniff, then the woman said, almost disappointedly, “Nothing. A bunch of security monitors.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
Kasumi almost felt bad for leading the woman here. The woman probably thought the room was full of gold or something. Who knew what the woman pictured in her mind when she was hit with the overwhelming sense of curiosity to open the door? It was kind of like putting a poor mouse in a maze but forgetting to leave a piece of cheese at the end for it.
It seemed the man felt the woman’s disappointment and said encouragingly, “How about we come back later on tonight? We need to get downstairs. I don’t want to upset Jeffery.”
“Yeah. Neither do I.” The woman stepped back into the hallway, leaving the door ajar. As the two headed back the way they had come from, Kasumi heard the woman ask, “Promise we’ll come back?”
“If it means that much to you ….”
She waited until the voices faded away and then she looked for the pair to appear on the screen again. Once they did, she knew she was safe to get out of there, and she didn’t waste a moment. She slipped out of her sprung prison and took the immediate hallway to the same one she saw the pair disappear down.
She peeked around the corners.
And now I have no idea where I’m supposed to go.
Jeffery’s lair, she answered herself.
Okay, where is that?
Don’t ask me, I was drugged.
Stupid brain. Great help that was.
Think of what Dent would do. Yes! The elevator. She and Cherry took it to that creepy red room outside Jeffery’s huge office. She picked a random direction — right — and trailed her hand along the wall as she started to walk. Once she found the elevator she figured she’d just take it to the top floor. Bad guys always had their lairs at the top floor. She never understood that. If she were a bad guy, she’d have her office on the very first floor. If the power went out or the elevator was out of service and your office was on the top floor, you’re screwed. Who wants to walk up all those stairs? Make all the nobodies take the stai—
She almost ran into a man as they both came around the same corner.
She jumped back, her heart in her throat.
“You scared the crap out of me!” she got out between breaths.
“Sorry,” the man said down do her, confusion in his voice and plastered across his face.
And then her heart practically stopped. She managed to escape only to get caught again. She looked up at the man, wondering what was going to happen.
His eyes searched the hallway Kasumi had come down, then he just stared at her, chewing on his lower lip.
What would Dent do? He’d probably beat the crap out of the guy and then feel like an idiot because unconscious people couldn’t give directions. She decided she’d take a different route.
“Hey, where’s the elevator?” she asked all sweet and innocently. She even threw in one of her cute smiles.
“Umm ….” He pointed back the way she’d come.
Figures. She’d been going the wrong way. “Thanks,” she said, and turned.
“No problem.”
She got two steps away when the man called out, “Hey! Who are you?”
Not wanting to alert him to anything wrong, Kasumi faced him and said as easy as she could, “Cherry’s friend. Something about Jeffery being out of tea. She sent me to grab some more, bring it up to him.” She had to admit, she could lie like the best of them.
“Wait.”
Uh-oh.
He twisted, pointed back the way he had come from. “You want the service elevator then. That’s down a ways, then to the left. It’ll take you directly down to the kitchens, then you can take it back up to eight.” He smiled. “It will save you a trip through everyone in the lobby. Don’t want to keep Jeffery waiting.”
“That’s for sure,” she muttered. “Thank you kindly, sir.” She gave a slight bow and walked past him. As she did she said, “Speaking of keeping Jeffery waiting ….”
The man suddenly remembered he had somewhere to be and he ducked his head and moved on.
Now, the elevator. Next stop, eighth floor: Perfumes, lingerie, eTech, and crazy bad guys. Everybody off!
XXXIX
Dent cocked his head, trying to locate the source of the high-pitched noise or siren that could be just barely be discerned under the chaos of running devotees around the lobby. Directly ahead and to the left of Dent, Bobseyn turned just enough to give Dent a glimpse of the man’s face. The sheriff’s eyes were darting around the lobby, searching the corners of the ceiling. It seemed he, too, heard the siren.
Whatever it was emitting the sound, it was driving the devotees into a frenzy. Chairs and tables were knocked over, bodies were trampled underfoot. It reminded Dent of a cartoon scene from his childhood, one where dozens of people had caught fire and simply run around in circles until they all jumped into a lake. Except there was no lake in this scene.
Dent had his gun raised before him in anticipation of several scenarios he’d played out where he’d have to fight his way through more bodies. This, though, was not one of the scenarios he’d anticipated.
“Bobseyn,” he said, grabbing the man’s attention. When the sheriff turned, Dent pulled out a flash grenade. “Turn around, cover your ears.”
“You can’t be serious! That can do some serious harm, Dent!”
“Which is why,” Dent pulled the ignitor, “I warned you first.”
He underhanded the grenade into the middle of the lobby and turned, pulling his head down and clamping his forearms over his ears.
His body thrummed as the force of the concussive wave hit him, and even through his squeezed-tight eyelids, Dent’s vision flared momentarily. Once the purple and yellow ghosting colors faded from his retinas, he turned, gun leading. Bobseyn was only a few seconds following.
“Son of bitch!” Bobseyn yelled at the top of his lungs. Perhaps his hearing had been damaged, Dent thought.
The lobby now looked like it was filled with a morning fog that was slowly burning away under the sun. And as the fog lifted and dispersed, devotees began to materialize. A good six or seven were on the floor, hands to ears or eyes or both, rolling back and forth. Those closest to the point of concussion had blood seeping from ears or noses. Those that were further away had tucked themselves into tight balls in the corners of the large lobby.
A hand clamped down on his shoulder, but Dent shrugged it off, scanning the room.
“That was overkill, Dent!” Bobseyn still shouted. Maybe the man thought Dent’s hearing had been damaged.
Dent ignored him, scanning the lobby, searching. There, to the right, a shadow in the receding fog, a figure not cowed by the flash grenade. Before the shadow could take action, Dent lifted his gun. He fired. The shadow melted away.
One tap, one drop.
Dent looked to Bobseyn. “Anyone standing is a target. Assume they are armed.”
Bobseyn’s reply was cut off by a shot that came from the left side of the lobby, near a set of double doors. The shot went high, missing both Dent and Bobseyn, but not by much. Dent shouldered Bobseyn aside and fired twice in the general direction of where the shot had come from.
Someone fired at them from the far center of the lobby.
Dent shoved Bobseyn forward while he himself went left. Bobse
yn took the hint, firing into the dark-clad man ahead.
Skirting the lobby’s front wall, Dent threw himself behind a pillar, wondering if his blind shots had dropped his target. Suddenly, stone chipped, a bullet pinged off the pillar, and a front window shattered. Dent stopped wondering.
He didn’t want to fire blindly again, so he ducked, rushed forward, and dived behind a leather sofa. He heard what sounded like a door opening and slamming shut and when he worked his way to the far left wall, finding cover behind a heavy bookcase, no more shots were sent his way.
He strained his ears, trying to catch any hint of movement. He thought he could just make out a gurgling sound near the double doors a good twenty feet on the other side of the bookcase, but the siren and chaotic screams about the place drowned out most other sound. Before he could investigate, three shots rang out from the center of the lobby, followed by screaming from more than a few devotees.
“Dent!”
He ignored Bobseyn, instead crouching low and heading for the double doors.
“Dent!”
At least if there were any more gunmen in the lobby, Bobseyn would make an excellent diversionary target.
Another gurgling sound up ahead and Dent came abreast of the double doors. Pale-faced, either from fear or the loss of blood from the bullet wound just at the base of his neck, the security guard looked up at Dent from the floor. Dent aimed. Right index finger, middle of forehead. The gurgling sounds ceased.
Back at the center of the lobby, Dent came up on Bobseyn. The man had his gun trained on an unarmed security guard. The guard, seated on the floor, was dressed in the same black uniform as the others.
The guard was seemingly uninjured that Dent could tell, and his eyes were narrowed to slits as he stared up at Bobseyn.
“It would be wise to switch to lethal rounds,” Dent suggested to Bobseyn.
“I did. Two to his vest brought him down.”
Dent stepped over, placed his barrel to the man’s knee. “Where’s Jeffery?”
Hard Wired Page 18
