51. He Is In There
FIFTY-ONE
HE IS IN THERE
Seven
“ T his isn’t R Block,” I muttered as the elevator opened onto a hallway. It was like every other hallway in this hell, except instead of many doors leading to many cells where many hybrids were kept, there was just a single door at the end.
“You thought you’d get to go back to your cushy little brothel after the fucking stunt you pulled?” the agent mocked, wrenching me by the chain down the hallway. “Baxter has other plans for you now. How’s that rib I heard cracking earlier, by the way?”
I refused to answer him, although the rib was mostly healed. It was still tender, but I was sure the break had mended.
“I don’t give a shit, just so you know … but I think that you’ll wish you were injury free if I’m right about what’s waiting for you behind that door.”
This asshole needs to die , the whisper hissed.
I had to agree. I was sick to death of playing nice.
I went limp, just long enough to make some slack in the chain. The idiot almost bumped into me.
Perfect.
I spun, twisting my body, wrenching the chain from his grip. Another spin, and the chain was wrapped around his neck. He let out a gurgling sound, his face going a sickly shade of purple.
“How do you like this fucking stunt?” I muttered, ignoring the screaming pain in my shoulders, contorting myself to strangle him.
It’s worth it! the whisper crowed. Finish him!
He choked out something that sounded like, “Please.”
“It’s too late to try out your manners on me,” I snarled, and with a grunt, twisted myself again, one shoulder dislocating with an agonizing pop. I gritted my teeth through the pain and gave one final yank on the chain.
The snap of his neck echoed in the hallway. His body went limp, dragging the chain and me to the floor. My neck, still attached by the collar to the chain, was cricked to the side violently.
I struggled out from under his body, every muscle screaming as I disentangled the chain from the dead agent’s neck and scooted across the floor until I was fully clear of him.
This is going to be painful, I told the whisper, more to psych myself up than anything else.
We do what we must .
With another resounding pop and a furious grunt of pain, I dislocated the other shoulder, tilted my head to the side, and swung my arms over my head, bringing the cuffs to the front of my body. The collar chafed as it spun to realign the chain at the front.
Panting, I inspected the mechanism on the cuffs. It looked like a fingerprint scanner. I shuffled back over to the dead agent, my arms tingling and painful, numb in places.
I needed to relocate the joints. But if I could get these damned cuffs off first, that would be ideal. Finding his thumb, I maneuvered myself to line the scan pad up and pushed towards him. His thumb slid to the side, missing the panel.
“Shit,” I cursed, trying again. This time it lined up, pressing right into the center of the panel.
Nothing.
I groaned out my frustration. It really would have been too good to be true if his print had worked to open the cuffs.
I staggered to my feet, bracing myself and reaching over my head again.
“Aargh!” I snarled through my teeth, tugging down to one side. With a pop, the joint slipped back into place. The other side was much easier but no less painful.
I rolled my shoulders, sucking in breath after breath, as the pain slowly subsided. When the throbbing had reached a manageable level, I eyed the door at the end of the hallway.
How odd that no one had come to check what was happening. There was a blinking red light in the corner of the ceiling, which meant there was a camera. Someone had watched me take this agent out and decided to do nothing about it.
I wasn’t sure whether that was a good sign … or a very bad one.
“Well,” I said aloud, nudging the corpse with my foot. “I guess there’s nowhere to go but onward. Thanks for getting me this far, you cowardly piece of shit.”
I kicked him hard in the ribs, smiling when I heard them crack.
Eye for an eye … rib for a rib , the whisper joked.
But I wasn’t laughing.
On the other side of the door, mere feet away at the end of the corridor, Baxter waited for me. And there was no way he was alone in there, with no backup.
But this was what I came here to do. I stepped towards the door.
Something rumbled below us. The floor shivered just slightly.
But I walked on.
Baxter was going to die tonight. And I was not.
T he door was locked.
Of course it was.
I growled, shuffling back to the agent’s body. These shackles were really starting to piss me off. Enough that when I got back to him, I didn’t hesitate before I grabbed his wrist and twisted, ripping his hand clean off his body. Blood pooled, but I ignored it, doing the same for the other hand.
I didn’t know which finger he’d used, and I didn’t want to have to shuffle down and back and down again.
On a crazily hopeful whim, I tried each finger on the panel on the cuffs. None of them worked. I shuffled back to the door.
The first hand was useless. I tossed it aside, momentarily enjoying the little, artistic splatter of blood it left as it smacked into the wall. I tried his thumb first on the other hand. No luck.
But when I pressed the pointer finger to the panel, it let out a quiet beep, turning from red to green. The lock snicked, and the door slid away.
Beyond was darkness.
Did Baxter think darkness frightened me? Did he know about Shifter eyesight? I partially shifted, my eyes becoming feline, with night vision that far exceeded that of a human.
It was a cavernous space. So dark that even with tiger eyes, I couldn’t see all the way to the far side of it.
He’s in there … the whisper hissed.
Of course he is . He’s been waiting here for me.
No … the whisper snapped. HE is in there.
And then I smelled it.
Damp earth and salty air.