6. 6 #2
Dwayne pointed at me. “Credentials?”
“She doesn’t have them,” interjected Elias. “She’s with me.”
“And I’m guessin’ you can’t tell me why?” Dwayne asked, eyebrows raised.
“No, sir.”
He sighed. “This is all by the book, correct?”
Elias nodded. “You know me, Dwayne. This is official.”
Dwayne leaned in closer to Elias. “There’s some talk about some problems in Richmond. You know anything about that?” He asked, his voice low.
“No, I’m sorry. I’ve been pretty busy on an assignment,” Elias lied. Smooth.
“Alright, kid.” He handed Elias’s papers back. “Stay out of trouble.”
“Never,” Elias said, and they shared a laugh before Elias ushered me past him.
We took a hard right and stopped in front of the first elevator. As Elias leaned forward to push the button to call it, he whispered in my ear. “Don’t say anything.”
Ding.
The elevator was dark, and the emblem on the floor was worn down, the letters almost rubbed off.
Elias pushed a series of buttons, ending the sequence by holding the first and fourth floor at the same time, only letting go when the elevator began to move.
He kept his eyes forward, not risking a glance at me, so I did the same.
The elevator stopped, but the doors didn’t open. Instead, the elevator lurched to the side, and I stumbled as we began to move horizontally. Elias didn’t falter, of course. He expected this.
A warning would’ve been nice. Now I had even more questions.
Ding.
Elias drew his gun. A trail of blood, pooling near the elevator opening, led us down the hall and into an open room. The air was metallic, thick in my lungs, and I felt heavy. These were his coworkers. The only people in the country who understood the weight of his work. Likely deceased.
I stayed behind him, my own weapon in my hands. Heart beating out of my chest, the sweat from my palms threatening to let the gun slip, I followed Elias through the open door.
I really could’ve used a pair of the gloves he was wearing.
The first body had been shot by surprise. A clean hole through the back of the head. I couldn’t discern what she looked like, only that she was wearing a dress and heels. She was slumped forward on her desk, now a bloodied mess.
“Ethel,” he whispered. His fingertips grazed her back. “I’m sorry.”
I glanced around, looking for others, but only could see that someone had deliberately trashed the office. While digging through some of the desk drawers, Elias called my name.
“Cassia, with me.”
We followed the trail, and it led us to an office. It was mostly untouched, except for the body on the floor situated between the chair and the desk. A man was face down, arm twisted behind his back, skull in pieces. Blood decorated the walls, and bits of brain matter were stuck to the floor.
Elias turned him over and moved him out of the way, so he could gain access to the computer without stepping on the deceased man. He was able to log in with no problems.
“Is this your office?” I asked. There was no name on the door, no name plate on the desk, not a single piece of character or decor. If not for the paperwork, it didn’t look like anyone worked here.
“Yes.”
Looking over his shoulder, I could see that he was opening a series of maps and location databases. He was looking at Virginia. Red dots flashed all over the screen.
“These are safe houses that have been compromised,” he said, pointing at the screen.
“Can you see the ones that haven’t been compromised?” I asked.
“If there were any, they’d be in green.”
“Oh,” I choked. “What do we do?”
“We poke around here for information. The fact that this map is current, and that I received a warning this morning, someone is on our side.” He stood up from the computer, and moved toward the door. “Stay here.”
I looked around his office, trying to open desk drawers and filing cabinets, but nearly everything was locked.
A lone drawer was unlocked, and inside I found a photo of who I could only assume was Elias, and he looked to be around ten years old.
An older woman had her arms around him, smiling brightly, exposing her teeth.
She was missing quite a few of them. They were on the beach, sand covering their toes.
It was apparent that this was Elias’s mother, her features were clear on his face.
Despite the drugs, the poor choices, she was a beautiful woman underneath it all.
I put the photo in my backpack.
The unnamed man lay dead at my feet, and even if infected, the exit wound from being shot in the head at close range guaranteed he would not be reanimating.
I didn’t want to look at him, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
His own blood settled into the wrinkles on his forehead, showcasing his age.
The hand that twisted behind his back was home to a wedding band. His poor family.
Outside of his horrific death, just to be a part of this unit was enough for me to feel sympathetic.
But knowing he had loved ones waiting for him to come home, my eyes stung from my tears for him.
Why could I escape my certain death at my own workplace, when this man, with a much higher aptitude for survival, had to perish?
I couldn’t allow myself to feel sentimental here. It wasn’t safe.
He died with his right hand shoved into his pocket, and I wondered why he would be reaching there. This was not his office. No gun was holstered on his body, so he wasn’t trying to defend himself. I looked over his body more closely, and noticed a second wound in his leg.
Okay.