The Galilee Falls Trilogy (Book 3): Fall of Heroes (37 page)

He walks out of the office, shutting the door behind himself. Shit.
Shit.
God knows how long it’ll take someone to get here, if they even remember I have the tracker. Hell, who knows if the damn thing still works. Fuck. Think. I attempt to pull against the zip ties, but they’re so tight I can barely feel my fingers. I damn sure feel the rope burns as I struggle against my binds. Double fuck. No go. Hands are out for the moment. Legs, you’re up. I rock back and forth in the chair until the momentum helps me to my feet. Yes! Alright, I—

The door handle jangles and the door begins opening again. Shit. I’m still more or less helpless, even on my feet. On instinct I sit back down just as Duncan enters, carrying a black satchel. The bald, dour hulk barely glances at me as he makes his way to the desk.

“We have limited time, Miss Fallon,” the Brit says. He sets the satchel on the desk, unrolling it to reveal syringes, scalpels, knives, pliers, everything a torturer could need. It’s here. Bile rises into my throat. Okay, here comes the terror. It’s been creeping forward and is almost here. “We’ve rigged the facility to vaporize and the boss fears your friends are closing in.” He removes the pliers and a knife from the collection. I saw the pictures of what happened to the prison guard Garr to get the codes and key. Flayed, cut, lost fingernails, broken limbs. My breath catches. “So I’m afraid the psychological dance I normally perform is canceled.”

“Please. Don’t,” I gasp.

The veins in his neck bulge as his jaw tightens with disapproval. And a flash of inspiration from the lizard, Neanderthal part of my brain fills my terrified mind. Okay. Okay. Yeah. I can do it. I already did once. No choice then, no choice now. I start breathing heavily, almost panting as he stops a few feet in front of me. He holds up the pliers and knife. “Fingernails or flaying? The choice is yours.”

I can do it.
I can do it.

Still panting as if I’ve climbed a mountain twice in a row, I gaze down and mumble to myself. I can do this. “I-I’m sorry?” Duncan asks. I mumble again, softer this time. He moves closer, but I don’t look up. “Say that again.” I mutter in a whisper this time. He’s right by my face now, so close I can feel his hot breath on my cheek. He presses the knife’s tip against my chin. “I said speak up—”

Now!

As fast as possible, before I lose my nerve, I bite into his neck like an alligator leaping out of the water to catch its prey. I bite.
Hard
. Hot blood fills my mouth, spilling down my chin as the man howls in agony. He pulls away, leaving a large chunk of flesh in my mouth as blood spews all over him down to the floor. He only makes it one step before, with all my might, I kick him in the balls. Once. Twice. Three times until the motherfucker falls to his knees in his own blood. I take all of a moment to spit out the hunk of meat before rocking forward to my feet. The henchman barely has time to register I’m mobile before I twist at my hip and swing the chair right into his face. He finally falls to his back, dazed. I stare at him, my breath still coming out in pants as the adrenaline courses through my every cell. “I said, this is for Garr asshole.”

He reaches for his side arm. Fine. Without hesitation, I position the side of the chair right above his already ravaged throat and bring the fucker down on his windpipe with the full force of my weight. Bones, tendons, cartilage all crack. Nothing. I’m beyond feelings. His hands seize several seconds, trying to move the chair, to claw my legs until they cease moving completely. Until he’s dead. I throw up all over the floor a second later.

I only grant my body and mind ten seconds to recover before the Neanderthal gains control again. I hurry over to the desk and fumble to retrieve a knife. Thirty seconds and many bleeding cuts later, the first zip tie comes off with the second a moment later. “Okay, okay,” I pant to myself. Second order of business. I rinse out my mouth and wash off the blood from my chin. Okay, a plan. I need a plan. I pick up the phone on the desk but there’s no dial tone. Fuck. I need to get out of here. The place is set to blow. That’s why they’re packing up. I need—

Fuck. Shit. It’ll all be gone. The data for the cure. Where they intend to send the virus. And Bennett. If he leaves here, he’ll never be seen again. Even if I get the data out and Dr. Sharpesh develops a cure, if he’s out there in the world, he can start again. Ten years from now we could be right back here with no warning this time. No. This has to end. Tonight.

As I clean off the blood, I watch the surveillance monitors. Things are slowing down in the warehouse. No more canisters moving around, no more vans outside. People in lab coats and Hazmat suits still filter up and down the halls. Where are you asshole? Where…there. In camera 113 Bennett, a woman in a lab coat, and the two computer nerds from before stand in another office. One of the nerds hands something small from the computer to Bennett, who pats the man on the back, before walking out with the lab coat. A moment later I see Bennett step into the hallway and hurry down it, chatting with the woman. Two huge men in black join the walking duo, flanking them. Okay.

A spare white lab coat is draped over the desk chair. I slip it on. It covers some of the wet blood on my shirt but everyone seems too busy to pay each other much attention. It’ll have to do. It also covers the knives I put in each pocket and the dead man’s gun I clip to the waist of my pants. God willing I won’t need them. I’m so into ransacking the corpse I don’t notice the cell phone in his pocket until I’ve already stood. Thank you, Jesus. I dial Justin’s cell first but it switches to voice mail. “Justin, it’s Jo. I-I’m in the facility. I don’t know where exactly. I-I’ve turned on my tracker. Follow it. I…They’re-They’re-It’s going to blow up. I need to find Bennett. I…just get here, okay? Bye.” I hang up and dial 911 this time.

“911 what is your emergency?” the dispatcher asks.

“He-Hello, this is Joanna Fallon. I-I’ve been kidnapped. I-I’m…I don’t know where I am. Somewhere in Poplarville, I think. A man’s been killed. And th-there’s some sort of bio-terrorism event about to occur.”

“Ma’am, slow down,” the woman says.

I take a breath to calm myself. “Listen, you need to contact whoever is in charge of the Xavier Prison break and Dr. Robert Vaugh at the Health Department. Tell them the virus is shipping right now. One or two white panel vans are loaded with live virus. Level 4 biohazard. We also need the bomb squad. This facility is rigged to blow once the personnel have cleared. Could be five minutes or an hour, I don’t know. Responders need to remain out of sight or they could detonate this place prematurely. Bennett Stone. This was all Bennett Stone of Independence. He’s behind it all. He attempted to kill me. Contact all airports, helipads, private airfields, train stations and see if he’s filed a flight plan.”

“Miss Fallon, can you help us find your exact location? Do you see a piece of mail or—”

“No. I need to move from this room. I’m putting the phone in my pocket. Trace it.”

I slip the phone into my pocket with the knife, take a deep breath, and step into the hallway. It’s relatively empty, only about three people, but I keep my head down and walk with purpose past them. Look like you belong, act like you belong, nine times out of ten no one will question you. The problem is I have no idea where I’m going inside this generic office building with my hip aching with every step. I have to turn around twice before I find room 113. Unholstering the gun, I turn the handle and step inside. The two computer nerds glance behind them to me, or really at the raised gun pointed at them. The man with his paws on Doris Jr. raises them up in surrender.

“Holy shit,” the other says.

“Put your hands up too,” I order.

The trembling man obeys. “D-Don’t—”

“I need access to the facility’s records. Everything on the virus, dispersal plans, projections, shipping records, and destinations.”

“I-I can’t—”

I cock the hammer back and press the gun against his forehead. He closes his eyes and whimpers. “This is not a request, asshole.”

“No, h-he really
can’t
,” the other says. “Mr. Motoneslly had him purge the system. Ev-Everything is being deleted right now.”

“Then stop it.”

“I-I-I-I-I
can’t
,” the nerd says. “O-Once the program st-starts, it can’t be shut off. It’s mostly deleted now anyway.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit…I take a step back. “Was it sent to another server somewhere? Is there a back-up?” The nerds exchange a worried glance. Fine. I press the barrel against his head again. “Asshole, do not test my patience right now.”

“Just tell her!”

“He’ll kill us!”

“
I’ll
kill you for sure if you don’t talk.
Now!
” I roar.

“Mr. Motoneslly!” the other says. “He-He-He has two flash drives Kent made him before the purge.”

“And where is he going next?”

“We-We don’t know,” the other whimpers.

I believe him. I take a step back. The reek of urine is a bit much. “Okay. Both of you move to the corner of the room. Now!” Both rise from their chairs and hustle to the corner. Gun still trained on them, I sit in front of Doris. “What were you doing to my computer?”

“Se-Sending a virus to all the people on your email list t-to crash their computers so they’d lose what you stole from Mr. Motoneslly.”

Fuck. “What the hell is the address here?”

“H-here? 7643 Shadowbrooke Rd. Poplarville.”

As Doris’ comms boot up, I pull out the cell phone. “I’m at 7643 Shadowbrooke Rd, Poplarville.” I turn to my hostages. “How long until this place blows?”

“W-We don’t know,” the pee soaked one answers. “When everyone’s clear. Only Mr. Motoneslly and Dr. DeRue can activate the Code Red.”

All these people putting their lives in the hands of maniacs. Books and street smarts don’t always go hand in hand. “What about the test subjects? Where are they?”

The duo exchange another scared glance. “I-I heard the la-last one died last night.”

May God have mercy on their souls. The link to Justin finally boots up on Doris. “White Knight, this is—”

The door opens behind me. By the time I swivel around, and find a woman in a lab coat stepping in, the hostages are shouting, “Get help! Help!”

The woman leaps back into the hallway saying, “Guard! Help! Guard!” Fuck! I leap up from the chair after the woman. “Guard! Guard!”

She rounds the corner out of sight. When I enter the hallway my body stops itself from chasing after her. The bad guys will come from that direction. I quickly spin around and dash the way I came toward the security room. Of course I can’t remember exactly where it is. Most doors are locked and the rest are only offices. I have to backtrack until I find a vaguely familiar hall. I always go left when I should go right. I—

The moment I reach the T-junction again two men dressed in black, guns in their hands, zero in on me. Shit. I dash down the hall just as four gunshots ring out. Fuck. Heavy footsteps grow close. This hall’s a dead end. What—? Fourth on the left. I remember now. I don’t dare look back. I just run to the security room and shut the door. Of course now I’m trapped. Wonderful. There’s no lock on the door. Double fuck. Stepping over the dead Duncan, I grab my old chair and jam it under the handle. That’ll keep them out for ten seconds. Taking a deep breath, I back away. What, what…think! I hide behind the side of the desk out of sight. It’s nothing but plywood. Bullets will rip right through. I’ve got one chance at this. Three against one. I have only one clip. I—

The door handle jiggles.

Fuck. My heart leaps into my throat. Someone bangs against the door. Fuck. I peek over the top of the desk. The chair shimmies and moves a little. I get on my knees and place my hands and gun level on the desk. “You can do thi—”

Bang!
The door and chair fly inward. The henchman’s leg is still up from his kick. He doesn’t get the opportunity to lower it before I shoot him between the eyes, brains splattering backwards onto his friend. I fire twice more, but the other henchmen’s quick reflexes save them. I barely got the second shot out when they duck to either side of the door. My bullets end up in the far wall. Fuck.

I hide behind the desk the moment their guns appear on either side of the door. I cover my head as they fire inside. Nowhere near me. This time. “Cover!” one of them says. Three shots my way, and I don’t break cover. I don’t need to see to know his partner enters the room. I fire around the desk but no screams of pain. Fuck! What—

One shot rings out at the same time a man howls in pain. I barely have a moment to try to wrap my mind around a scenario when two men’s groans begin. I blink and both men zoom past me. Sideways. Into the wall, leaving a crater in the drywall. One lands on top of the other. Another blink, and a tall man in a lab coat and HEPA mask brings his fist down on the top henchman’s face then the other. They’re out.

My savior turns to me. Of course. Thank God. Thank you, God. “You okay?” I leap up and hug my best friend as tight as I can. He hugs me back. “Take that as a yes,” Justin chuckles.

“How did you find me?”

“I stayed in the area. V’s been watching the comms on her computer and radioed when the tracer popped up. From there I just followed the gunfire.”

I release him and take a step back. “We have to find Stone.”

“No, we have to get the hell out of here. This place is set to blow.”

I move to the TV bank. “Not yet. Bennett Stone is the only one with the data to save Jem. And if he gets away…we’ll just be delaying the inevitable. I think he’s already shipped the virus too.” I turn back to my friend, eyes hard. “We are
not
leaving without him.”

“Okay,” Justin concedes. I return to the screens. Where are you, asshole? “Guardian has been found,” Justin says. “All agents move in on our position. The target Stone is active and in possession of vital Intel. Note, building is rigged to detonate and a dozen armed guards are active inside and outside the property.” He listens for a second. “Good to know. Stand-by.” He walks over to me. “The police are five minutes out. What about the virus?”