Seven Days To Brooklyn: A Sara Robinson Adventure (15 page)

“Look,” the kid says as he points at Sara and Mac. The survivor yells at a group of equally formidable-looking thugs before running toward the fence just opposite Mac and Sara, and catching up to the pair, with chain link separating them.
 

“Go to the next street, turn left. Two blocks down, there is a manhole cover. We will meet you there.”
 

Mac nods at him and turns left at the next street and follows Sara to the open manhole cover. Half positioned out of the cover, a grimy man waves for them to come inside. Sara runs up and climbs down into the sewer system, followed by Mac. The foul smell of rotting human feces hits Sara and Mac immediately as they stave off the urge to vomit. Continuing down the six-foot sewer pipe, the three of them walk for fifteen to twenty minutes before coming to another ladder sticking out of the concrete sidewall.
 

“Here, end of the line for me; this will take you inside the compound. Good luck.”
 

 
“Hey, where does this go?” Mac says.
 

“To the Roundhouse,” the thug replies.

“At least it will take us out of this foul-smelling hell hole,” Sara says as she climbs the ladder and out of a manhole into a courtyard of the once operational state government camps. Looking around, she sees the gang leader and a gang of no less than thirty armed thugs, who were on the inside of the fence when they were running alongside. Walking up to the pair, Mac standing beside Sara, the gang leader motions for the gang to check out their new inhabitants.
 

“Where are you headed?”
 

“Just on our way north when we found you.” Mac puts an arm around Sara’s shoulder. Sara reaches down and puts her hand on the revolver in her waistband.
 

“Wouldn’t try that, little lady.”
 

A couple of the survivors quickly takes Sara’s pistol and backpack as well as the pistol that Mac had tucked into the back of his pants.
 

“Now, then, we can be friends,” the gang member says before turning and walking away.
 

“Take these to the chamber. We have a tournament to prepare for.”
 

Mac and Sara know it is useless to resist as they are prodded and pushed forward. Walking toward the large, round, former state capital building of New Mexico, they are led into the interior of the building and thrown into a small room that has been made into a jail cell. Sara takes a seat beside the wall and dips her head, pulling her knees up to her face. Twenty minutes later, the door opens, and a thug motions for the two of them to follow him. Sara and Mac exit the room and notice three more armed men are there as well. Following the thug, they are led into the interior of the building. A large door is in front of them as they walk out into a foyer. On the door in spray paint are the words, “The Maze: Fight, Survive, Release. The ultimate in wasteland entertainment,” are scrolled across haphazardly. On the other side of the door, they can hear the roar of people cheering, then gasping, then silence. The large door opens, and they are pushed inside the darkened room by the thugs before the door slams shut.
 

COLORADO

In the operations center, the satellite operator pans the camera, catching Mac and Sara slipping down inside the sewer system.
 

“Sir, they are inside, and it looks like they are headed to the Roundhouse.”
 

“God help them.” The general replies.

The operator scans the compound area of the Roundhouse then keys in on Mac and Sara as they exit a manhole outside the building.
 

“Here they are, sir,” he says as he works the computer mouse, moving the satellite into position to capture the best image. The general rubs his brow, then turns to his advisor.
 

“Relay to the team, target acquisition at the Roundhouse.”
 

“Yes, sir.”
 

“Timber Wolf, this is Watchman; target is in the Roundhouse.”

“We understand. Acquisition at the Roundhouse, Timber Wolf, out.”
 

Onboard the C-130 aircraft, the team leader gathers his team around him and disseminates the new information. Within a few minutes, the C-130 is over the city of Santa Fe, 25,000 feet above. In the cockpit, the captain flicks a switch turning on a green light near the commandos, signaling it is time to jump. The team leader stands up motioning to his team to take positions by the door and get ready to launch. Standing single file, the group stands at the ready waiting for the green light to flash. Fifteen seconds later, the light starts flashing, and the commandos jump one after another into the blackness. Checking his altimeter, the team leader watches as it rapidly clicks off thousands of feet of altitude as he plummets toward the earth. Pulling a sleeve up, a GPS screen displays the drop zone below them. The team have all assembled and are shoulder to shoulder as they descend. Seconds later, the team leader signals for them to split apart and pull chutes. The parachutes make a faint popping sound that is not heard by the guards that are patrolling the rooftop of the Roundhouse. With the MP5 machine guns at the ready and silenced, the commandos drop onto the roof and assault the five sentries, killing them before they are aware of their presence. With chutes pulled off and stowed on the roof, the team leader motions for the team to move into the building through an open roof vent. The roof vent is the access point, with a hastily positioned wooden ladder the thugs wedged in to allow egress. Climbing down the ladder, the team switch on their night vision goggles, starting their search for the target without speaking a word.
 

“What is that?” Sara says to Mac in the darkness.
 

“I’m not sure.”
 

A low scraping sound is coming from the darkness in the middle of the room, but they are unable to see what it is. Sara reaches down to her pant leg and produces the single night vision monocular that the thugs failed to find. Holding it up to her eye, she switches it on and then realizes the purpose of the room. Forty feet away from her, she can see three flesh-eaters staring at her. Scanning the room, she realizes that the flesh-eaters are separated from them by some kind of plexiglass structure that has walls spaced at irregular intervals. Looking up at the sides of the room, she can see hundreds of people looking down on them, although she is not sure if they can see her and Mac.
 

“Here, take a look.”

Mac fumbles the device as she places it into his hands. Looking around the room, Mac sees the flesh-eaters and layout of the room.

 
“What the hell is this?” He whispers, before handing the monocular back to Sara. She looks back through it before speaking.
 

“I think it is a maze.” Sara replies.

Unfortunately, they are the unwilling contestants in a perverted and twisted post-apocalyptic sporting event. This is a sporting event where the contestants die if they don’t find the exit of the room. The silence of the room is shattered when a loudspeaker hums to life with the voice of the thug they met outside.
 

“Ladies and gentlemen, here tonight, from the wasteland, a man and child will attempt to survive the maze. Can they do it? Will they do it? Only chance will prevail. Only wit will prevail. Common sense will decide. Fate will imply a winner or loser.” He continues as the lights of the auditorium grow brighter. The maze is revealed to Mac and Sara, followed by loud applause from the crowd of spectators.
 

“Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen.”
 

The crowd starts betting, not with money, but with ordinary items that in a post-apocalyptic civilization are worth more than paper money. In front of their seats, the crowd places their items in a bin, and the items are accounted for by guys in jumpsuits who record the items, then place them in a sack with a number attached to them. Bottles of perfume, deodorant, floss, and anything else that they have brought, rattle around in the bag as the items are collected.
 

“Odds tonight, three to one, continue betting. You could be lucky enough to go home with three times what you brought in.” The announcer bellows.

A spotlight operated and controlled by a survivor positioned in the rafters swings its beam of light, highlighting Sara and Mac.
 

“What are your names?” Above them, a microphone is lowered down in front of Mac and Sara. Mac grabs it and keys it up.
 

“Mac.” Mac hands the microphone down to Sara.

“I’m Sara, Sara Robinson, and when I finish this maze, I’m going to kill you.”
 

The crowd go wild, cheering loudly, banging their hands on the arms of the theater-style seating.
 

“There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. A child ready to battle me after she finishes the maze.”

 
A wicked grin comes across his lips as his smile tightens. The lights to the auditorium go out, leaving Mac and Sara in a virtual darkness below. Underneath their feet, dim lights start lighting up the opaque flooring, allowing the spectators a clear view of the maze and its contestants. On the other side of the room, the sound of scraping is followed with the opening of one of the doors, letting the three flesh-eaters loose. They quickly run toward Mac and Sara, who are standing less than twenty feet away. Sara is looking through the monocular when she hears the loud thud of flesh-eaters hitting the plexiglass wall in front of them, just three feet away.
 

“Where are they?” Mac asks.

“Just in front of us. They hit a plexiglass wall. We’re okay for now; let me study the maze.”
 

Mac places his arm on her shoulder and waits for her to look around the room. Looking to her right and then left, Sara studies the room and the bends in the plexiglass. Walking to her left, Mac hanging onto her shoulder, she moves down the wall and stops. The three flesh-eaters have followed her and have stopped right in front of her, just inches away, separated by the wall. Looking further to the right, she sees an opening in the plexiglass ten feet away. The five-foot-wide entrance is open to the flesh-eaters as well. Beyond that opening, the maze goes to the left, then right and makes a few turns into the center of the maze.

“There is a hole, in the center of the room. It’s gotta be the way out. Unfortunately, we have to get there before they get us.”
 

She hands the monocular to Mac. He looks at the room and studies the maze, before handing it back to Sara. Sara studies the maze and notices that there are two paths that will take them to the center. She commits the path off to the right to memory, handing the monocular back to Mac. “Here, take it, and follow me.”
 

She starts walking in the opposite direction, then stops as she feels for the corner of the plexiglass. “Look to the left, just past the opening we were close to; left turn then a right, two more turns around the interior walls and you are in the center at the exit.”
 

Mac scans the room and realizes she has discovered a way out.
 

“What’s the plan?” He says.

Sara closes her eyes then envisions the maze with her mind.
 

“When I say go, start running to the left and make it to the exit in the center; I’ll run to the right and through the maze on the far side,” she pauses before adding in.“Oh, yeah, one more thing. Not too sure how many of the flesh-eaters will follow either one of us. So don’t look back.”

“Okay.” Mac replies.

“ Are you ready?”
 

“Yep.”
 

Sara gets into a sprinting stance.

“Go.”
 

The initial confusion of the two prey running in different directions catches the flesh-eaters by surprise, but they soon turn and run toward the opening that Mac has just run through. Looking through the monocular, Mac makes the opening in time, then scurries down around the first corner and runs through another opening leading toward the center of the maze. The flesh-eaters are close behind him, but incoordination due to a diminished mental capacity causes them to stumble and fall. Sara has run in the opposite direction, stopping at an opening in the wall before moving through the maze opposite Mac. Looking through the monocular, Mac can see her walking around the walls and working her way into the interior. He keeps running up and down the maze, turn after turn, flesh-eaters closing in as he works his way inside. Sara’s plan is going well, when the roar of the crowd fills the auditorium.
 

Above them in the rafters, the team of commandos has made it inside and is watching the event unfold. Looking across the catwalk, the commandos notice the spotlight operator and take him out with a silenced shot from an MP5 machine gun. He slumps over dead onto the catwalk, and it goes unnoticed by the crowd below. Rigging up rappel ropes and a pulley system, one of the commandos hooks up his harness and clips into the rigging directly above the center of the maze. Below, Mac continues to run to the center of the maze and makes it into a circular-style booth that looks and operates like the round turnstile entrance doors you would find in a fancy apartment building in New York. Working the turnstile by pushing on the wall, Mac closes off the opening behind him just in time to separate himself from the flesh-eaters who have now caught up to him. Looking through the monocular, he sees Sara make her way around the last set of walls separating her from the center of the room.
 

“Stop!” He yells.

She stops immediately and waits to hear what he will say next.
 

“I’m in the middle, in a round booth, and am okay, but they are in here next to me, just outside the booths walls.”
 

He looks at her through the monocular and can’t figure how she is going to get past the flesh-eaters and in with him. Just outside the booth, the flesh-eaters are pushing against the wall and trying to get inside. Mac pushes harder to oppose their pushes, spinning the booth clockwise. Looking around at the booth walls, he notices it has three openings and the more he spins it, the closer the second opening will come to opening it back up. The inside of the booth is segmented into three wedges like pie slices with Mac inside one of them. Pushing the booth around five more feet, Mac gives it a final shove and opens up one of the chambers next to him. The flesh-eaters fall inside one by one and press themselves up against the plexiglass next to Mac. Pushing against the wall, they start to overpower him, pushing it counter-clockwise with Mac backing away from them. The floor underneath Mac starts to slide open, and he realizes he will have to wedge himself up inside to keep from dropping down below and having the flesh-eaters drop down on top of him. Mac wedges himself up just in time as the flesh-eaters continue pushing forward, unaware they have missed their prey by mere inches as they drop down through the hole beneath the maze.