Chapter 30 Indie
Indie
Limits - Bad Omens
Age Twenty-Three
“This was stupid…like really, really fucking stupid.” My voice trembles through a whisper.
Why the hell did I think this was a good idea?
It’s taken us an hour to walk from the bus stop to the secluded area of the Archives.
We’re currently huddled behind a tree to catch our breath, slipping into a gap in the mesh fence that allowed us easier entry into the grounds.
Completely concealed from the cameras that are anchored at each corner of the boundary.
Regina’s eyes are lit up from the tablet she holds in her hand, the rest of her face concealed by a hood and the balaclava we’re both sporting. Her shaky fingers rattle their way across the screen as she works on the program she’s spent the last year curating.
We’ve only tested it once, and that was on Saint’s dad’s house CCTV. Seeing as both have been out of the country for months now, I thought it was the safest option to test on before the real thing.
Or maybe prompt an excuse for one of them to come home. For him to save me from the desperation that’s dragging me under every single day.
“Okay,” she breathes, her gaze flicking from the screen to the building, “I’ve got a couple minutes recording.”
I don’t speak, holding my breath, waiting for the freak-out that we might be about to willingly walk into our death sentence.
“We need to test it,” she adds, turning around and checking our surroundings.
“What about this?” I pick up a rock that covers the palm of my hand, one big enough to notice if it flies through the air.
She studies it, glancing back over at the camera line of sight, then gives me a nod. “I’ll watch.”
Rising to my feet, I slowly creep towards the fence, careful not to get into any line of sight.
Branches snap beneath my feet, and the wind slinking through the trees causes the metal before me to groan, forcing a shiver to run down my spine.
I push down a swallow, turning to Regina, and she gives me a nod. When I face back into the car park, my chest tightens.
The last time I walked through those doors, my life changed forever.
I’m still crippled by the fuzziness of it all; my mind often tries to fill in the blanks when I’m unguarded.
Therapy has helped, along with upping the training, but I need him back.
I need Saint now more than ever.
Because right now, I feel vulnerable. I don’t have him to run back to if this goes south.
Not that I’d expect him to just welcome me with open arms. Not after I broke his heart.
“Indie?”
I turn my head to Regina, watching me as I get lost in my thoughts, her voice pulling me back just enough from the edge to keep me at my safe distance.
I drag in in a deep breath, my eyes flutter shut briefly, and then I throw the rock with all the force I have.
It tumbles through the air, clattering along the ground as it cracks in two.
My frozen gaze is fixated on the rock, waiting for the reality to crack in two just like it did. That what we’re doing, and the risk we’re taking, will come down on us just as hard.
Regina appears beside me, stuffing the tablet into her bag and handing me a pair of bolt cutters. “We’re good. Let’s head up to the front door.”
We dip under the detached mesh, me holding it for Regina as she slips under, then her keeping a hold whilst I follow. We jog across the car park, and my legs weaken at the knees.
We’ve been watching this place for weeks, the patrols the ‘Chief’ mentioned not once being on or near the grounds.
Just another lie spoken.
My hands fist against the cutters under my jumper, flexing and releasing to try and take my mind off where we are. I need to focus, can’t allow fear to grip me, especially in front of Regina.
She needs me to keep us both strong.
She glances around, a gloved hand patting around the stones for any keys to allow the door to open.
I move on instinct, trying the door handle and twisting it at the knob. My breath catches when it opens, but it doesn’t go far, the inside jamming as chains clank from a padlock.
My hand reaches up and pulls my hood down, allowing me to hear better through the masked material.
“It’s chained from the inside?” I look at her nervously, and she looks just as unsettled as me, her throat flexing on a swallow.
“Okay, you cut and I’ll stick my hand through and catch it.”
Positioning the cutters, I angle it through the door, my head twisting back out into the street when I feel a shiver creep up my spine.
You’re fine, Indie. You’re just paranoid.
“Ready when you are,” she whispers.
I pull the red bars as wide as I can, then fight the resistance before the snap of metal sounds.
Regina catches the padlock, but the chains ultimately clatter to the floor with the weight, the clang echoing through the hallway as they hit the surface.
She freezes, and so do I.
I grip the rattling cutters tightly in my hand, waiting for the door to swing open, for someone to really get their hands on us this time.
For no one to save us.
Seconds go by, the two of us motionless as we wait for fate to slide us another filthy hand.
But it decides not to.
The doors don’t swing open to reveal a shrouded figure, and no one comes bursting out from the car park to take us away.
“I think we’re good,” I whisper, tucking the cutters back into Regina’s backpack as she stays crouched on the ground.
When I zip it up, I tap the bag, and she rises to her feet.
I can’t see her face, but her eyes in the balaclava tell me everything.
I know they mirror my own.
“We get in, and we get out,” she breathes, and I nod.
We slide through the doors, the chains dragging along with it and scraping against the wooden floor.
Hardly any light is inside, a mixture of orange hues from the streetlight mixing in with dust particles, slowly dancing in the air as we disturb their peace.
At least the place looks deserted.
But that type of naivety isn’t going to fly here. I’m suspicious of everything now.
People’s motives, their words. It’s the reason we’re standing back at the place that caused the domino effect.
Regina, Jenna and I targeted out of the blue to join a party here, then we’re attacked, the police not accepting our statements.
Then Jenna is killed.
I know it’s all connected; the root of the answers lies within this building.
Regina slips her bag forward again, handing me a gun as she takes her own, along with a torch.
I never had the urge to own one before, even though my dad taught me how to use one.
Now, I sleep with one under my pillow.
“I think we should check the upper floor.”
She juts her head in a silent response, leading the way through the pitch-black corridor.
I walk up the stairs backwards, my eyes scouring the bottom floor as snippets flash through my mind. The very lockers we were forced to put our phones in beneath my feet.
Bile begins to tighten my throat, and I cock the gun at the thought.
I’ll never accept a drink from a stranger, too scared to even drink alcohol again.
Not being in control?
The thought makes me feel violently ill.
Even when mom offers me a drink at home, I watch her cracking open the water bottle.
“What one do we try first?” Regina whispers, and I walk in front of her, my other hand gripping over the gun.
Palpitations grow in my chest, the subtle roar of my pulse muffling my surroundings. We’re not going into any of the rooms alone, and I’m scared either of us walks into the one where it happened.
Not that I’d be able to tell you what it looked like, but I have a feeling the moment I went in, my skin would feel like it’s been dipped in acid.
“Let’s try this corridor,” I finally answer.
The Archives building is huge; it’s an old, abandoned library. The rooms seem to have been renovated. Now I know why. Whatever secret gang resides here, who host these parties, this is their hideout.
We walk side by side, continuing to have my back facing Regina. It’s something I picked up listening to my dad talking to his military buddies, when they’d sit in the backyard around a fire, beers in hand, and discuss their time on deployment.
A burn threatens the corner of my eye, and I blink it back, walking into Regina as I do.
“Sorry,” I whisper, turning to face her.
My brows dip as I take in the door before us.
All the others are white, a newness on them compared to the one we’re looking at. It’s dark, the wood looking as old as the building, like it’s part of the original structure.
Though the thing that grabs my attention the most is the black and gold, shiny plated snake in the middle.
“It’s padlocked,” she says, and my gaze flicks down to notice the gold metal chain dangling from the old brass latch, winking at us from the outdoor lights. It’s smaller than the front door but needs to be forcefully removed.
I turn the safety of the gun on, tucking it into my waistband before I unzip her bag.
“Here.” I hand her the tablet. “Keep an eye on those cameras.”
She takes it in one hand as she stands back, letting me pierce the cutters through the metal, and I catch it with my knee in the crevasse of the door, avoiding it clattering off the ground again.
I set my jaw, my hand trembling as I twist the handle, my eyes squeezing shut as I slowly push it open.
The room opens up to what looks like a study; it’s like something you’d imagine in a dark academia book. All dark colours and leather sofas. Rows and rows of books litter the walls. A darkened table dominates the centre of the room, ten chairs fitted around in a cult-like circle around it.
There’s a desk directly behind it, the moonlight casting an eerie glow over its surface.
“Fuck, I don’t like this, Indie,” Regina says behind me, and I grip her hand, pulling her in, then gently close the door.
There’s an old, rusted key hanging beside the door, and I grab it, locking it from the inside.
“We’ll be fine. Check that computer and see if there’s anything you can take.”