Children of the Cull (12 page)

We were through the door and up the flight of stairs in seconds, guns in hand and ready to meet resistance.

None had come by the time we reached the ground floor. Sirens blared, lights flashed, but no guns fired. Hopefully that meant that the plan had worked, and the guards were occupied holding back the frontal assault, too busy to even notice we were here.

I opened the door and poked my head into an empty corridor. This was it, Neighbourhood One. If I remembered correctly, and I hoped to God that I did, the Ops centre would be here, the security hub for the entire base. Even if Brennan’s gang had breached the perimeter defences, they had little hope of breaking into the buildings if they were locked down. Every door was steel-lined, every window bullet proof, but the hub could open everything from the inside with a flick of a switch.

“This way,” I said, leading our little band along the corridor. The hub was near the main entrance, not far away—I hoped.

Reaching the end of the passage, we slowed, peering around the corner. No one there. Good. I beckoned the rest on, thankful that even Fenton seemed to be keeping his mouth shut for once. For all we knew we were alone in the building, but there was no point taking chances.

Another corner, another corridor. Nearly there. It was just around this bend and—

I slid to a halt, darting back around the corner I’d been about to take. Brennan stopped short, mouthing a silent
What?

Guards
, I mouthed back, raising two fingers.

Had they spotted me?

They couldn’t have. There were no footsteps, no shouts.

I looked around the corner again, staying close to the wall. They were standing with their backs to me, beside what should be Ops. Two guards a-guarding—and they didn’t stand a chance.

I stepped back, Brennan indicating for Garret to take position. Garret nodded, flattening his back against the wall, rifle up and primed. Then he swung himself around, and sprayed the corridor. There was a cry and Garret pulled back, at least one of the guards returning fire, the plaster on the corner of the wall beside Garret disintegrating.

“One went down,” Garret hissed, the most I’d heard him say. “I know he did.”

The bullets stopped, our assailant waiting for us to make a move. Garret swung around again, squeezing his trigger.

“He’s in the doorway,” he reported, ducking as the guard retaliated.

“The other?” I asked.

“Out of the game.”

“Move in,” Brennan ordered and Garret twisted into the corner, his gun barking. There was a cry and Garret disappeared from sight. Curtis was straight after him, gun raised, and after checking around the corner, Brennan indicated for us to follow.

The first guard was on the floor, a ragged hole in the side of his neck. The second was slouched on the floor, clutching a wound in his shoulder, blood pumping between his gloved fingers.

Fenton took one look at the stricken guard, and put him down.

“What did you do that for?” I snarled. “He could have told us how many men they have left.”

Fenton shrugged. “There’s one less now.”

“Next time you wait for the order,” Brennan berated him as I looked around. Yeah, this was the place, and that was the Ops centre. I crossed to the door, flattening myself against the wood. P99 in one hand, I wrapped my fingers around the door handle. It turned, but was locked.

There was a cry from inside. Short, but distinct, as if someone had clapped a hand over their own mouth to shut themselves up. Brennan motioned for Curtis to bring the battering ram over and the man mountain obliged, hefting the heavy cylinder by himself. This lock offered little in the way of resistance, shattering on first impact, but the door smacked into something. They’d barricaded themselves in. Curtis dropped the battering ram to the side, putting his not insubstantial shoulder to the door. There was a scrape of wood against the floor and the door opened a fraction, enough for Curtis to get his hand into the gap to press against the wall.

Big mistake. Something clanged hard on the back of his hand, and Curtis roared in pain. He yanked his hand back, as Beck raised her gun and fired calmly into the door itself, the wood splintering.

There was a whimper from inside and Beck took her foot to the door. It shifted more and she was in, her gun sweeping up.

I didn’t wait for Brennan to give me permission to squeeze through the gap. On the other side of the door, a Chinese guy cowered beneath a desk. He was shaking where he sat, nostrils flaring, a fire-extinguisher grasped to him like a shield.

“Get out of there,” I ordered, keeping him firmly within my sights as the others followed me in, Garrett shoving the bookcase barricade out of the way.

“D-don’t shoot,” the kid stammered, crawling out from his hiding place, still clinging to the fire-extinguisher like a safety blanket.

“Don’t give us a reason to,” Brennan told him, looking around the messy room. “What’s your name?”

“Lam.”

“Okay, Lam. How many people have you got here? And I’d put that down, by the way.”

Reluctantly, Lam did as he was told, although his eyes flicked to Curtis, who was massaging his bruised hand.

“Fifty-eight,” came the reply. “Well, there was, before...” He glanced at the screens, many of which showed dead and injured guards slumped on the floor.

“Fifty-eight?” Fenton echoed. “All this for fifty-eight people?”

“What do you do here?” Beck demanded.

Lam shrugged. “Research.”

Beck’s grip on her gun tightened. “What kind of research?”

“Medical research,” Lam babbled. “Experiments. I don’t know much about them. I’m only the technician.”

All this time, I had been checking the cameras. The wall was a mass of screens, all showing feeds from around the complex, except for the top row, which were all blank. One of them had a scrap of masking tape beneath it, half pulled off. I reached up and yanked it away. It read
Katy
. Curious.

“Well?” said Brennan, joining me at the console.

“Your people are in the grounds,” I reported, working the controls to cycle through the external cameras. “Although the buildings are still secure.”

“Not now we’re here,” said Fenton, smirking.

I turned to Lam and pointed at the blank screens. “What should those show?”

“Nothing. We don’t use them.” The reply had come too quickly.

“Is that right?” I showed him the scrap of masking tape. “Who’s Katy?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, man. I’m just here to push the buttons, not ask questions.”

Brennan was flicking through the internal cameras.

“Wait there,” I said, as she brought up images of what looked like hospital beds. “Are those... children?”

“What are these rooms?” Brennan barked, pointing at the screen.

“I told you,” Lam whined. “We... well, the medical team... do research. I really don’t understand what. Diseases and stuff.”

That was worrying.

“What kind of diseases?” Beck asked. I was interested to know myself.

“I don’t know. Viruses. DNA.”

“And those kids?” I said.

He looked even more uncomfortable. “They’re the test subjects.”

Even Fenton was incredulous. “Test subjects? Like guinea pigs? Shit, what have you guys been doing here?”

Lam started to stammer a reply. “I-I—”

“You don’t know,” interrupted Brennan. “We get it, but you must know how to work all this. You’re the technician. You press buttons.”

“Y-yeah, I guess.”

“Then show me how to unlock the doors.”

“I can’t!”

Beck hefted the gun in her hands.

“Some technician.”

“No, you don’t understand. There’s something wrong with the computer. We can’t get access to anything except the cameras.”

How convenient.

“So you’re useless?” Fenton sneered.

“Not yet,” I cut in, tapping on the picture of the hospital. “Where is this?”

“Neighbour Three, in the east wing. That’s where all the research takes place.”

“And this is Neighbourhood One, right?” Brennan asked.

Lam nodded. “Support and security.”

“And the rest of your people.”

“Mostly in N-2, in their quarters.”

Now Brennan returned her attention to me. “We can move from building to building through those tunnels?”

“That’s the idea.”

Brennan turned to Lam, looking at the lanyard around his neck. “Will that get us through the doors? I’d like to keep at least some of the locks intact.”

Lam fingered his ID card with shaking hands. “Yeah. There’s a box of them, in that cupboard,” he said, pointing at a metal cabinet across the room.

“Now you’re using your brains,” said Brennan, crossing over to the cupboard. She opened the doors, checking the shelves, Fenton following. Lam saw his chance and ran for the door. Stupid kid. Curtis stepped in front of him and whipped the butt of the rifle across the technician’s head. The kid’s glasses arched across the room as he went down, slapping against the floor to stay still.

Brennan slammed the door of the cupboard. “There are no cards in here. I’m almost impressed.” She walked over to Lam’s prone body and roughly yanked the lanyard over his head. The kid’s head cracked against the floor as she pulled it free. “I’ll take this one. Garret, Curtis; check the guards for passes and then get down to the front doors. Let the others in and then search the building. Your hand okay?”

Curtis nodded, flexing his fingers. “I’ll live.”

“Off you go, then.”

The two grunts left, leaving us with the unconscious technician.

“What about him?” asked Fenton.

Brennan picked up a plastic bag of spare lanyards from the floor. They must have tumbled from the bookcase. “Tie him up. We’ll need someone to show us how everything works. Beck, you go to N-2. Same thing. Open the doors, but be careful—you’ll have company, by the sounds of it.”

“What do you want me to do with them?”

“Round them up, but don’t stand for any nonsense. We can always give them a choice...”

Fenton looked up from where he was tying Lam’s podgy wrists together. “To stay?”

“If they’re scientists, they could be useful. Besides, I want to understand what they’ve been doing here. We need to know the place is safe.”

This was my chance to join the conversation again. “We should check out that ward, in Neighbourhood Three. I’m no medic, but I might be able to see what they’ve been up to.”

“You read my mind. I’ll come with you. Fenton, you too.”

Joy of joys.

“Is he secure?” Brennan asked.

Fenton stood up to admire his handiwork. The kid’s wrists and ankles were bound together, the knots more impressive that I would have given old rat-face credit for. Just to lower my opinion of him again, Fenton gave Lam an unnecessary boot in the side. “He’ll be fine until we get back.”

“Let’s do this, then.”

We turned to leave, and the walkie-talkie on the desk beneath the screens crackled into life. The voice that followed caused by heart to not so much miss a beat as explode in my chest.

“
Control, this is Dr Tomas. Lam, come in.
”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CURE

“L
AM
? L
AM, ARE
you there?”

There was no answer. Did that mean that Neighbourhood One had fallen to the raiders, or that Lam had done a runner? Either was possible, but I couldn’t worry about it now. All that was important was getting the kids down to the bunker.

They were huddled in the corridor between the dorms now, all wide eyes and clasped hands. I’d never had a maternal bone in my body, but my heart went out to them. How could we expect them to cope with all this? We’d had drills, of course, but they never seemed real. Of course they didn’t, locked up in our base, playing games.

No one was playing now.

“Nothing?” asked Eckstein.

I shook my head. “He’s not answering.”

“Do you have a security monitor on this floor?”

Allison pointed down the corridor. “In the far lab, beyond the dorms. There’s a side office.”

“I’ll check,” Eckstein said, clutching his side as he limped away from us. “You get the last kid.”

I bit my lip. Of all the labs, I didn’t want anyone going in there. Something else I didn’t have time to worry about. I turned back to the children, giving them what I hoped was an encouraging look.

“You stay here with Dr Harwood. I’ll fetch Ruth.”

“Yes, Dr Tomas,” they chorused, as one. It was unsettling.

“We’ll be okay, won’t we?” Allison said to them, Dawn cuddling into her side. Of all the subjects, she had been the most scared, barely saying a word since I’d coaxed her out of her room.

I glanced through the window as I walked to Ruth’s door. The girl was sitting on the edge of her bed, her back to me. I slid my card over the reader, paused, and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Ruth called out.

I opened the door and stepped inside, and Ruth looked up at me, her face a blank mask.

“This isn’t a drill, is it, Dr Tomas?”

As direct as ever. “No, Ruth, it’s not. I need you to come with me.”