Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Red lights strobed through the ward, the alarm screaming like a banshee as Bodie searched for one last Hail Mary.
Dalton moved in beside him, face grim, a cut under his left eye already starting to bruise.
“Windows are reinforced, doors magnetically sealed. By the time we bust through either, they’ll be on us.
I activated the locks on the main entrance, but someone’s overriding the code.
I can’t get them to fully engage. I give it a max of five minutes before they’re through.
” He tapped the extra mags on his vest. “I’d like to say we’ve got more than enough firepower between us, but ours is finite.
They’ve got an armory and unlimited time. ”
Bodie nodded. “We can’t go toe-to-toe with them for long. We need a way out.” He glanced up. “What about—”
A blast of static cut him off, Nick sounding through the comms. “Avery’s got a possible solution but…”
“We’re in a pretty tight spot, brother. Just lay it on me.”
“She pulled up some schematics. Looks like there’s an old laundry chute at the far end of the ward. It’s a four-story drop to the basement level, but if you brace yourselves going down, you might live to tell us how insane it was.”
Bodie coughed. “Not exactly the answer I was hoping for. Any chance the HVAC vents are an option?”
Nick snorted. “Not unless you can lose half your body mass. The main returns narrow partway down the building. I can’t guarantee you wouldn’t get stuck.”
Bodie sighed. “Looks like we’re all going for a ride, then.”
Dalton nodded, took off across the room.
Nick tapped on a keyboard in the background as he mumbled under his breath for a moment. “I can activate some countermeasures, buy you a bit of time, but you’d better be down that chute before they breach the main door.”
“Roger, that. We’ll see you at the LZ.”
Nick huffed. “I commend your optimism.” He cut off, then popped back on. “Don’t make me regret agreeing to help you, Bodie. I still need a job to retire to.”
“I’d hate to put a wrench in your plans.”
Nick snorted, ended the conversation a second before the main lights cut off, shrouding the room in utter darkness.
Shouts rose outside the door as the emergency lighting kicked in — bathed every surface in an eerie crimson glow.
A fire alarm blared to life somewhere down the hallway, the hiss of sprinklers rising above the other noise.
Trust Nick to get creative.
“Bodie.” Dalton waved him over. “I need another set of hands to move this shelf.”
Bodie bolted over, Tierney covering their six as Rowan pushed her father in the wheelchair.
Bodie wasn’t sure if the aggressive display earlier was a sign the man had started to rebound, or if the accumulative effects of the serums had turned the man rabid.
Nothing but basic instincts and pure adrenaline left.
God, he hoped that wasn’t the case. That Alister simply needed more time to repair the pathways — regain his identity. That Rowan wouldn’t have to lose her father all over again.
He’d be there. Shoulder whatever spilled over. He just prayed it didn’t take her down, too.
He let the thoughts fade, as he muscled the shelf to one side, exposed a rusty metal door.
He tried opening it, grunted when the thing wouldn’t budge. “Either it’s rusted shut or this thing’s sealed, too.”
Someone pounded on the exterior door, shouted an order Bodie couldn’t make out.
He grabbed his knife, jammed it under the lip. “There’s got to be some kind of manual release…” He found a notch in the metal, pushed on it.
The steel groaned, finally gave against Bodie’s brute strength. The hatch swung open, revealed a steep, dark metal slide that vanished less than fifteen feet down. Cobwebs laced the interior, a thick layer of dust coating the sides.
Tierney looked down, scrunched up her face. “I’ve got an idea.”
She raced over to the beds, grabbed the pillows and sheets then ran back. She tossed the pillows down the chute, smiling when a dull thud echoed up the tunnel. “Better than hitting concrete.”
“Assuming we make it all the way down.” Bodie flashed his light length of the tunnel. “Now, all we need is a volunteer.”
“I’ll go.” Dalton stepped up. “That way I can help catch Alister when you send him down next.”
Bodie maintained his watch as Dalton climbed over the lip, braced his forearms and toes against the sides. “Try not to die.”
“See you on the other side, brother.”
He released his hold, shot down the slide with a long, loud screech, twin scuffs marking the sides from his boots. He vanished a couple of stories down, a dull thump sounding shortly after.
“Dalton?”
Dalton coughed, tapped the inside. “There’re some sharp connections, but doable.”
“I’ll be damned.” Bodie motioned to Tierney. “Why don’t you go next while I make a rope out of the sheets—”
Rowan darted in beside him. “Already got one ready. It won’t reach the entire way but…”
But it beat dropping Alister all four stories.
Bodie helped her wrap one sheet under his arms in a makeshift harness, tying the ends together before easing him over the lip — praying Alister didn’t regain consciousness halfway down — tear the entire shaft apart with his bare hands if he went feral, again.
“Head’s up, Dalton. The last half’s going be quick. ”
Dalton muttered something that got swallowed by Alister’s body as Bodie slipped him fully inside, started lowering him hand over hand.
More shouts rose outside the door, a loud hissing sound filling the air.
Rowan cursed. “They’re cutting their way through.”
Bodie nodded. “Once your dad’s down, we’re outta here.”
He didn’t add that they’d all be dead if Graves’ men broke through before Dalton caught Alister, but Bodie didn’t need to. It was evident in the firm press of Rowan’s lips, how she anchored the rifle against her shoulder, caressed the trigger.
The sheets glided through Bodie’s hands, the knots Rowan had tied straining against the weight, when the one just below his fingers slipped, dropped Alister a foot before Bodie dove forward, grabbed the end before Alister fell the last three floors.
Bodie slammed against the side, cracked his head on a metal seam, splitting open a line along his forehead as the edge of the chute dug a groove into his chest. He squeezed harder, the smooth fabric already slipping through his grasp, until Tierney lunged forward, snagged the ends, then bound them back together.
She tapped his arm, nodded, and he slowly shifted Alister’s weight back onto the line, relaxing a fraction when the connection held.
Tierney looked up at him. “You okay?”
He adjusted his grip, started lowering Alister, again. “Ask me, again, when my heart isn’t about to explode.”
Sparks brightened the seam of the door as Bodie reached the end of the makeshift rope, nothing but a clear drop between Alister and success. “On three, Dalton.”
Bodie counted it off, forced himself to let go. The last sheet slithered over the edge, fluttering in the air as Alister fell out of sight. A grunt sounded a moment later, followed by Dalton giving him the all clear.
Bodie readied his rifle, nodded at Tierney. “Go. We’ll be right behind you.”
Tier clenched her jaw, glanced at the door, then jumped over the edge. A breath, and a whispered prayer, then she let go, boots screaming against the metal, a hushed gasp lingering in the air.
He nudged Rowan. “All right, sweetheart, your turn.”
“You should—”
“Not this time.” He shouldered up beside her. “I promise you can go last the next time we’re staring down mercenaries.”
“Liar.” She planted a quick kiss on his cheek, eyes glassy, what looked dangerously like love staring back at him, then vaulted over the lip and down the slide.
He waited for the noise to stop — Rowan to get clear — when the damn door burst open, a squad of men pouring through, their massive silhouettes outlined in the strobing light. He fired off a few cover rounds, hitting the floor when a stream of bullets sprayed across the wall.
The men moved forward, leap-frogging off each other as they took turns firing, kept him pinned to that square of space. He grabbed a canister, pulled the pin, then tossed it. It bounced along the floor, spinning to a halt in the middle of the room.
“Frag.”
The man’s voice cut off as the flash bang exploded, washing everything into a blinding white light, the deafening roar knocking a few items off the shelves.
Bodie pushed to his feet, ears ringing, the floor tilting beneath him.
One of the men managed to get off a shot, catching him in the vest as he torpedoed into the chute, boots barely touching the sides.
He screamed along the metal slide, tumbled out the bottom onto the stack of pillows Tierney had tossed down. The impact slammed his leg, stabbed pain up his thigh and through his ribs, but he pushed through, shoving it down as Dalton offered him a hand.
Bodie breathed in the stale air, the alarm a distant pulse down the metal tube. One of the old dryers tumbled in the background, a sickeningly sweet fragrance permeating the air. Shouts echoed down the chute, a few bullets emptying into the pillows.
Dalton had Alister over his shoulder, his rifle at the ready before Bodie could argue, though based on the fire shooting up his leg, he would have slowed them down if he’d tried to carry the other man. Instead, he took point, swept toward the door, when it burst open, two men barreling through.
He engaged, kicked one guy in the knee as he throat punched the other, sending them both reeling backwards.
The bigger guy grabbed a wrench, swung it.
Bodie dodged, used the guy’s momentum to send him headlong into a steel cart.
He cracked his head, dropped, as Tierney charged across the room, plowed the other asshole into the wall.
He hit hard, crumpled, passing out a moment later when she finished him off with a sharp, precise blow to his temple.