The Project Eden Thrillers Box Set 2

by Brett Battles

  He cursed to himself and then took a deep breath. Gripping the rifle in his hands, he pushed himself from the wall into the middle of the intersection.

  The only one to notice him was the guard, but the man only had time for a puzzled look before Terrell squeezed the trigger.

  The burst of bullets filled the hallway, cutting down all three men. Off to Terrell’s side, several of the survivors screamed.

  “That way!” he yelled, waving down the hallway past him. “Go! Go!”

  “WHAT THE HELL was that?” Evie Ruiz asked.

  The unmistakable sound of gunfire had come from the warehouse.

  Alonzo Knox moved his binoculars back and forth as he examined the building. “Don’t see anything.”

  “That wasn’t one of ours, was it?” She brought up her radio. “Blue One to all. Who fired that?”

  Her three satellite teams all reported back that it wasn’t them.

  “And none of you are receiving fire?”

  None.

  Had someone been doing target shooting inside the building? Seemed a little late at night for that.

  As Evie started to bring up her own binoculars, more shots rang out, at least two different guns, maybe three.

  “Sounds like a firefight,” Alonzo said. “Should we do something?”

  Evie grimaced. They were supposed to do nothing until told otherwise.

  She grabbed her pack and pulled the sat phone out of the main compartment. She hesitated a moment before punching in the quick-dial number.

  “Ward Mountain.”

  “Ruiz. Chicago.”

  “This is Leon. Go ahead, Evie.”

  “Think we might have a situation here,” she said.

  “Explain.”

  She told him what she’d heard.

  “No visual sign of activity?” he asked.

  “None yet. But I’m wondering if this is something that we should take advantage of.”

  “Hang on for a sec.”

  While she waited, she looked back at the building. She and her team had been given the task of creating a disruption at the survival station once they were given the go signal. It would be part of a coordinated effort with teams all over the world, so she was pretty sure what the decision was going to be.

  When Leon came back on, he said, “We’d like you to hold for now. But keep monitoring the situation. If things change and you have enough time to report back, do so. Otherwise you are free to make the call. Just be sure to let us know as soon as you can after.”

  The hold was what she’d expected, but the flexibility was not. “Got it,” she said. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  After she hung up, Alonzo said, “So?”

  “For the moment, we wait.”

  TERRELL STAYED AT the back end of the group, constantly looking over his shoulder for the counterattack he knew would be coming.

  “Where are we supposed to be going?” the girl shouted from up front.

  “Loading dock. Straight ahead,” he said just loudly enough for those around him to hear.

  They passed the message forward.

  He was starting to think they might make it to the dock unmolested when a burst of bullets raked the wall only ten feet behind him. The shots came from a hallway they’d passed seconds before. He couldn’t see the shooters but returned fire anyway, hoping to keep them tucked back around the corner.

  He chanced a look ahead, and saw that the girl was nearing the warehouse door. There shouldn’t be anyone on the other side but that wasn’t a guarantee.

  “To the side,” he said as he ran through the group, arriving at the door a moment after the girl did. “I’ll check.”

  He eased the door open and let his gun lead him through. The truck they used to transport the dead was backed up to the dock where they’d left it, waiting for its next trip. Otherwise, the area was empty.

  “All right,” he said. “Quick. Into the truck.”

  He held the door open as wide as it would go so they could pile past him.

  “Get in the cab,” he told the girl. “The keys are in the ignition. Start it up. I’ll be right there.”

  She nodded and took off around the side of the truck while the others climbed into the back. He couldn’t help but think about the fact the truck had been waiting for those people, only they weren’t supposed to be still breathing when they boarded it again.

  After the last person raced by, he slammed the door closed and jammed a shipping dolly under the handle to slow down their pursuers.

  As he was turning to run for the truck, bullets punched through the metal door. At first he thought a piece of the door had torn free and hit him in the back. He stumbled a few steps but righted himself. That’s when he realized he was bleeding, not only in back but in front, too. A bullet had passed through his right shoulder just below his clavicle.

  He gritted his teeth against the pain as he hopped off the dock and moved quickly to the cab of the truck. He jumped on the running board outside the driver’s door and saw the girl in the passenger seat.

  “You’re going to have to drive,” he said through the open window.

  “What? Why?” Then she saw his shirt. “You’ve been hit.”

  “You can do it. It’s an automatic. Pretty much like any car.” He motioned at the other end of the loading area, where the overhead cover ended. “Hang a left and that’ll get you to the main road. From there go south as fast as you can. There are several car dealers that way. You can’t miss them. There are trackers in this truck so you need to switch vehicles.”

  “You’re not coming with us?”

  “Don’t worry about me! You need to get out of here! Whatever you do, avoid big cities and any survival stations. Hurry!”

  As she crawled into the driver’s seat, another salvo of bullets ripped into the metal door and flew through the dock, barely missing the truck.

  “Go!” he said, stepping to the ground.

  More gunfire poured out of the building. The girl stepped on the accelerator and the truck jerked away from the dock.

  Terrell glanced back at the now perforated door, knowing members of the security team would come charging through it at any moment. He aimed his rifle at it and let off several warning shots, in hopes of delaying them for a few more seconds, and then took off running after the truck.

  He reached the vehicle right before it cleared the covered area. He jumped onto the rear bumper, and could see those he’d rescued huddled together in the back, their eyes wide with fear. He wanted to say something to comfort them, but no words came.

  As the truck turned for the main road, he saw the shipping dolly give way and the door fly open. He didn’t bother aiming when he fired off three more shots as the dock disappeared from view.

  Turning onto the main road, the truck started to pick up speed, so Terrell hopped off while he still could and ducked behind an abandoned VW van at the side of the road. He watched the truck race away, and then turned his attention back to the warehouse, hardly believing what he had done.

  THE GUNFIRE WAS now coming from the loading dock area. Evie had her binoculars trained on the entrance, but so far had seen nothing.

  She snapped up her radio. “Everyone stand by.”

  A truck rumbled out of the dock area, the same one they’d seen go in and out several times, always with a male driver. This time, the driver was a young woman, her face tense and scared.

  As the truck took a right turn onto the main road, an armed man hopped off the back and ran behind a van like he was trying to hide from anyone still at the survival station.

  She couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing.

  “Evie,” Alonzo said, slapping her arm. “In the back of the truck.”

  She swung her binoculars around and looked inside the vehicle’s cargo area. There were people there, fifteen or more. Old and young, men and women, and none dressed in Project Eden uniforms.

  For a second, she simply stared, unable to move as she realized wh
at was going on.

  “Go,” she said to Alonzo. “Follow them. Take Gage with you. Those are survivors. They’re escaping!”

  TERRELL KNEW THE Project would never let the detainees escape unchallenged, so he would have to try to stop them.

  He had no idea how many shots he had left. He would have to make the remaining bullets count.

  Yeah, and then what?

  And then…well, he would deal with then when it came.

  He had expected to see security rush out of the loading dock, but instead a Jeep came racing along the back of the warehouse.

  As it turned onto the main road, Terrell took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. His bullet pierced the windshield and entered the driver’s head. With a sudden swerve to the right, the Jeep jumped the curb and plowed head on into the side of a plumbing supply building.

  While the men in front were clearly dead, the two in back pulled themselves from the wreckage and staggered to the sidewalk. Terrell recognized them as two of the men usually tasked with watching the holding areas, but he didn’t know their names.

  The one in the lead raised his rifle and scanned the street.

  It would have been an easy shot for Terrell, but he hesitated. Taking out the Jeep that could have easily caught up to the truck was one thing. Shooting an injured man standing still was something else altogether.

  Terrell crept back behind the van so that he wouldn’t be seen, but as he stepped over the curb, his foot slipped on a patch of ice and he instinctively slapped his hand against the vehicle to steady himself. The man in the street whirled around at the whap of metal. He pulled his trigger and held it down, burning through the whole magazine.

  The vehicle shuddered under the barrage. Terrell wasn’t sure at what point the bullets struck him, but it didn’t matter. He deserved it.

  With what strength he had left, he pulled himself out from behind the van.

  “You?” the security guard said, surprised.

  The man’s expression transitioned into one of pure fury. He clicked a new magazine into place, raised his rifle, and aimed it at Terrell’s head.

  Go ahead, Terrell thought.

  The blast from two shots filled the street. But neither hit Terrell. Instead, the guards dropped to the ground.

  EVIE WATCHED IN near disbelief as the guy who’d hopped off the back of the truck took out a Jeep full of soldiers with a single shot.

  When the two guards who’d survived climbed out, she expected the man behind the van to shoot them, too. Instead, one of the soldiers shot first, strafing the van until his rifle clicked empty.

  Evie missed the next few seconds as she reached back for her rifle. When she looked at the road again, the man had crawled out from the van’s protection, his clothes covered with blood. The soldier in the street had just finished reloading his rifle and was bringing it up to shoot again.

  Evie aimed her weapon and squeezed the trigger, taking out the soldier, then quickly moved the barrel and eliminated his partner.

  She picked up her radio. “Everyone, now!”

  Before she could even get to her feet, explosions started going off all around the perimeter of the survival station. She pulled out her own remote and set off her charges. The first was a hundred yards down the street, in a car parked next to the warehouse. The concussion ripped a whole in the side of the building.

  Her second bomb was the one she was most proud of. She had been able to place it outside the loading dock area. When it went off, the entire covering collapsed, rendering the dock inaccessible and blocking the access road that the Jeep had used along the back of the building.

  As she made her way off the roof and down to the street, more bombs went off, some merely adding to the chaos, some doing actual damage to the building. Explosions were timed to continue for the next hour, with the occasional lull built in to achieve the maximum amount of terror.

  She stopped when she reached the sidewalk and checked to make sure the street was clear. Then, keeping low, she headed down the block. In the gutter, she found the man who’d been hiding behind the van, lying on his back and blinking at the sky.

  She knelt beside him and said softly, “Hi.”

  With much effort, he turned his head enough to see her. “Who…who are…you?”

  “A friend.”

  “I don’t…remember you.”

  One look at his wounds told her all she needed to know. “What happened in there?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I…couldn’t do it…any…more. I know I broke…the promise…but we…we were…”

  “Don’t worry about the promise. I don’t care about that. Who were those people in the truck?”

  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.

  Thirty-Four

  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.