The Last Girl (34 page)

“There,” she says, pointing again. “Stop ten feet or so to the right of them.” Tia brings the boat beside the pipes and Eli stands, sliding his palm against the rough concrete before bringing them to a halt. Tia drops something into the water and ties off a cord as Chelsea does the same.

“Are you sure this is it?” Tia asks, donning the pack over her shoulders that is attached to the steel tanks. “I really don’t want to cut into the guards’ barracks, but I’d pay good money to see the looks on their faces if I did.”

“Tia, focus,” Merrill’s voice says in their ears.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Zoey says, moving out of the older woman’s way. Tia braces her feet on the bottom of the boat and slides a pair of goggles over her eyes.

“I’d look away, this is gonna get bright.” Zoey turns her head to the side just as a brilliant blue light illuminates the boat and the water surrounding it. The hiss that accompanies the cutter barely competes with the spillway, the sound lost amid the flowing water and thunder that continues to roll above them.

Tia works for minutes that feel like hours. Zoey chances a look up and is nearly blinded by the plasma cutter’s light. In that brief glance, three quarters of a smoking circle is illuminated, and even as Zoey looks away, Tia makes a sign with one hand to Chelsea, who pulls up the front anchor and swivels the boat to one side of the hole Tia’s making.

The blue light abruptly stops and there is a brief pause before a huge chunk of concrete several feet across drops free of the ARC and splashes into the water beside the boat.

“Easier than I thought,” Tia says. “Eli, give me a boost.” Eli moves up beside Tia and stabilizes her as she places one foot on his thigh and climbs upward through the hole she’s made. “Bastard’s still hot,” she says as her legs and feet disappear. “Watch yourself.”

“Chelsea, you next,” Eli rumbles. In a moment the other woman climbs up and out of sight. Eli turns to Zoey and motions to the hole. “After you, my lady.” She stands on the boat’s seat, trying to balance as it rocks beneath her. She reaches up and finds two hands extended and waiting. She grips them and is lifted up with a quick boost from Eli, then she is on her knees, scooting away from the hole several feet from the table where she spent more hours than she can remember folding never-ending amounts of laundry.

She stands up and draws her pistol.

She is inside again.

The thought sends a ripple of dread through her. It is like she’s just been swallowed by an enormous beast and with each minute is being slowly dissolved in its cavernous belly. She steadies herself against the wall as memories wash over her, nearly making her stagger. Zoey blinks, pulls air into her lungs. Expels it.

“Are you in?” Merrill asks.

“We’re in,” Eli replies, standing up next to the hole. “Leaving the laundry in a second.”

“Good. I think I bought us more time. They asked the guard if everything was all right, and I responded that we were working on it. Think they fell for it.”

“Perfect. We’re moving now,” Tia says, stepping up to the door leading out of the laundry. Chelsea and Eli flank her, weapons up. There is a flicker of blue, and the door opens.

“I’ll be in front,” Eli says. “Zoey, you’re behind Tia. Talk us through it.” Then he steps through the doorway into the hall, and she follows close behind.

The hallway is awash in the yellow glow thrown by the few emergency lights mounted on the walls. Their footsteps are too loud in the quiet that grips the corridor, and after a beat Zoey realizes why. The mechanical room is silent behind the door to their right, all of the machinery stilled by the lack of power. The quiet is eerie.

“Through the next door and up the stairs to the third floor,” she whispers. Eli barely nods, sidling up to the closed door at the end of the hallway. Tia places the plasma cutter even with the lock and triggers the blast of blue flame. The door clicks open, and Eli rushes through.

Zoey gets a glimpse of a black uniform and the surprised face of a guard before the butt of Eli’s rifle smashes into his open mouth.

The man drops to the ground, one arm twitching as blood courses out past his ruined teeth and over his broken jaw. Without words, Chelsea unbuckles his belt, stripping his weapons from it in an instant. Zoey peers up the stairway, waiting for a shout of alarm or another guard to appear, but none do.

“Everyone okay?” Merrill asks.

“Fine here. Moving up to the second floor,” Tia whispers, dropping back behind Eli. They move in a line up the stairs, turning so they can see past the handrails to the landing above.

Empty.

“Go, quick,” Tia says, and they hurry up the treads, pausing at the next landing. Somewhere above them are voices. Zoey listens but can’t make out what they’re saying, but the words aren’t frantic, and there’s no thunder of boots rushing down to meet them.

They move again, stopping at the second floor. Two guards stand halfway down the hall with their backs to them, their voices low. Zoey waves the others on, keeping her eyes locked on the two men, until Chelsea taps her on the shoulder. They fly up the next two sets of stairs, halting at the top as a door opens and closes somewhere below them. They wait for an agonizing second to see if there will be a cry of alarm, but nothing comes.

Zoey’s stomach clenches as they stop on the third third-floor landing while Eli takes up position beside the hallway entrance. He holds up one finger and points to the waiting corridor. Thunder rumbles, vibrating the air. Below it is another sound.

Boot steps.

Eli waits, his large chest heaving before he spins and sprints through the opening.

There is a strangled cry that cuts off as quickly as it began. Zoey sidles past Tia and into the hallway she knows so well.

Eli crouches over a guard who’s lying flat on his back. The man’s feet drum for a second and then he is still. Eli stands, drawing the long, thin knife from the guard’s neck in a quick movement. A dark pool is broadening around the prone man’s head, and Zoey looks away.

“Which doors?” Tia asks, moving past Eli. Zoey follows her, swallowing the fear that taints the back of her throat with the taste of blood.

The doors. She can see hers already, the scanner beside it dark. Lily’s is next. She guides them to it, throwing a look down the length of the hall as Tia places the cutter to the lock.

The blue flame ignites.

The door opens, and Zoey pushes through it.

Lily sits on the edge of her bed, her small form barely visible in the single emergency light. Her hair has grown back some in the time Zoey’s been gone, and the stitches have been removed from her forehead. The sight of her there, so innocent and delicate, floods Zoey’s vision with tears as she holsters her pistol and moves forward. Lily cowers back onto her bed as Zoey approaches.

“Nah, nah, don’ ’urt.”

“Lily, it’s me. It’s Zee.” She takes another step forward, the light spilling over her.

Lily freezes, and her mouth slowly opens. “Zee.”

“I came back for you, Lily.” She barely manages to get the words out of her constricted throat before Lily launches herself into her arms. Zoey hugs her fiercely, and Lily squeezes her in return.

“Zee, Zee, Zee,” Lily repeats in a hoarse voice. “I sorry, sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Zoey says, running her hand over the back of the girl’s stubbled scalp.

“Zoey,” Eli says quietly.

Zoey nods and brings Lily to arm’s length. “You’re coming with me, okay, Lily?”

“Kay.”

“You have to be quiet, all right?”

Lily nods her head. “Qui.”

“That’s right, quiet. Let’s go.”

Eli leads the way with Zoey steps behind, her arm around Lily’s thin shoulders. The hallway is still empty, but there is a great pressure building inside her. It is as if she can feel the walls beginning to crumble inward on top of them.

Zoey brings them to a halt at the next door around the corner, and Tia pops the lock. Zoey steps past her and pushes the door open.

Rita stands in the center of the room, hands balled into fists before her. Her narrowed eyes blink once as Zoey enters, leaving Lily in the entrance. They stare at one another for a long second before Rita’s hands fall to her sides.

“You,” the other woman says. Zoey waits, unwilling to drop her gaze. Lightning flashes, bringing a hyper-glow to the room before diminishing. Each of them stands like a statue. Rita’s eyes flick to the hallway, scanning over the others waiting with their rifles. The hardness around her mouth slackens and with a barely perceptible nod, she puts on a pair of shoes beside her bed.

Zoey takes Lily’s hand and points to the door directly across the hall. Tia burns the lock and shoves the door inward.

Sherell sits at her desk, a pen and a piece of paper before her. Her mouth is partially open, and her eyes widen as they step into her room.

“The hell—” she manages before Rita moves into view.

“We’re going,” Rita says, motioning toward the hall. “Get your shoes.” Sherell hesitates but then folds the paper she was working on and tucks it away into a pocket before sliding her shoes on.

In the hallway, Zoey brings them to the last door, and Tia opens it with the cutter. Inside, Penny is at her window, staring out at the storm.
She turns, and even in the almost nonexistent light, Zoey can see the dark
glint in her eyes. Penny glances to each of their faces, hovering last on Rita.

“Penn, we’re getting out of here. C’mon.” Rita jerks her head toward the hallway. Penny’s lips twist up in an awful smile and she moves forward, brushing past Zoey.

“Okay, two more, right?” Chelsea says a little breathlessly. Zoey moves past her without answering. The group follows close behind, their footsteps sounding much too loud.

“Are you almost out?” Merrill’s voice says in her ear.

“Close,” Chelsea replies, coming even with Zoey as they near the main stairwell again. “We just have to get Terra and Meeka.”

Zoey pulls the headset off before she hears Merrill’s reply. The group comes to a halt at the quiet stairway, and she runs her gaze across everyone.

“Take them down to the laundry. Get them in the boat,” Zoey says, backing away.

“What are you talking about?” Chelsea says.

“Just go.” Zoey continues to retreat.

“Where are you going?” Tia says. But then her eyes glaze, as do Eli’s and Chelsea’s.

Eli places his fingers against his earpiece. “What did you say, Merrill?”

Zoey turns and sprints up the stairs.

Their voices hiss after her, but she doesn’t hear any sounds of pursuit. She turns the corner and bounds up the next flight, stopping short before the fourth-floor hallway junction. She draws her pistol and looks around the corner.

The corridor is clear all the way to the infirmary. She sprints down its length, coming even with the infirmary door, and peeks through the glass set in its frame.

The palm of a man’s hand presses against the small window.

Zoey flings herself to the side, crouching in the shadows as a metallic scrape comes from the lock. The door opens a second later.

“—such a pain in the ass when the power goes out,” the first guard says, stepping past her. “I’ve gotten so used to the electronic scans that using keys is like work.”

“You’re one lazy bastard,” the second guard says, tight on his heels. Both chuckle. “Now what was Richards going on about?”

The door begins to swing shut behind them as they walk down the hall.

Zoey tenses, watching it slowly close.

“He said Perry didn’t come back with his booze from ground level or some shit.”

Almost shut.

“We’re checking on a booze run? We’d better get some this time.”

The guards turn the corner toward the stairs.

Zoey leaps forward, stabbing her fingers into the closing door’s gap.

It shuts on her hand hard enough to spring tears from her eyes. Stand
ing, she drags it open and slips through, letting it swing shut behind her.

A flicker of lightning coats the infirmary in a monochromatic flutter.
The doorways of the exam rooms are all closed, operating beds beyond empty and waiting for their next patients. Zoey moves without pause down the center aisle, the gleaming elevator doors appearing out of the gloom.

Alongside them stands a guard she’s never seen before cleaning his fingernails with a small knife. She raises the gun from her side, but the guard doesn’t look up.

“You guys forget something, or was Perry already on his—” He glances up from his cleaning, eyes going wide at the sight of her striding toward him through the semidarkness.

He starts to reach for his sidearm but she speaks, her voice surprising even to her at how level it sounds. “Don’t or I’ll shoot you.”

“Holy shit, what the hell are you doing here? You’re dead.”

“Is that what they told you? Makes sense. They wouldn’t want everyone knowing I got away.”

“What do you want?” She moves closer, and it’s then she can see that he’s terrified. The man trembles, the folded collar of his uniform shaking.

“Call the elevator for me.”

“I can’t. They disabled the bracelets for clearance on it after you got out.” He flashes his bracelet in front of the elevator’s sensor. Nothing happens. Zoey glances around the room, mind whirring.

“Give me your radio.”

“I don’t have one.” She raises the gun even with his forehead. “Okay, okay.” He digs in his pants pocket and draws out a small radio with a blunt antenna on its top. “Here,” he says, extending his arm. Zoey reaches out to take it.

The guard lunges forward.

She fires.

The gunshot is deafening and sends a shrill whining through her eardrums, but she barely notices. She steps forward, pistol aimed at the center of the guard’s chest. He’s sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. Blood pours from between his fingers where he clutches his shoulder.

“Ahh! You bitch, you fucking shot me!” Zoey bends down and retrieves the radio from where he dropped it.

“I told you I would. Now, how do I contact the Director with this?”

“I’m not going to tell you anything.”