TWENTY-TWO
THE GIRL WAS SICK, HER SKIN CLAMMY, HER
attempts to get away from him pathetic and weak.
Reston wished he could get rid of her, just drop her
and run, but he didn't dare. She was his ticket through
the forces on the surface; surely they wouldn't kill one
of their own.
Still, he wished the stupid girl wasn't so ill; she was
slowing him down, hardly able to walk, and he had no
choice but to continue dragging her along, north
through the back corridor, then east at the far corner
of the facility, heading for the connecting door to the
cell block. From the cells the service elevator was a
two-minute walk.
Almost there, almost done with this impossible,
incredible night, not much farther. . .
He was an extremely important man, he was a
respected member of a group that had more money
and power than most countries, he was Jay Wallingford
Reston - and here he was being hunted in his
own facility, forced to take a hostage, to hold a gun to
the head of a sick girl and sneak out like some
criminal; it was ludicrous, just unbelievable.
"Too tight," the girl whispered, her voice strangled
and rasping.
"Too bad," he answered, continuing to drag her
along by her slender throat, her head tucked through
his arm; she should have thought of that before she
decided to invade the Planet.
He pulled her through the door that led into the cell
block, feeling better with each step he took. Each was
another step closer to escape, to survival. He would
not be gunned down by some pious, self-righteous
group of visionless thugs; he'd kill himself first.
Past the empty cells, almost to the door - and the
girl stumbled, falling into him so hard that she almost
knocked him down. She gripped him tightly, trying to
regain her balance, and Reston felt a sudden insane
rush of anger at her, of rage.
Stupid bitch, assassin, spy, I should shoot you right
here, now, blow your slack, stupid brain across the
walls...
He regained control before he could pull the trigger,
but the loss of composure frightened him a little. It
would have been a mistake, and a costly one.
"Do that again and I'll kill you," he said coldly, and
kicked at the door that led into the main hall, pleased
at the merciless quality of his voice. He sounded
strong, like a man who wouldn't hesitate to kill if it
served his purposes - which, he was coming to discover,
was what he was.
Through the door and into the hall...
"Let her go, Reston!"
John and Red were at the corner, both of them with
weapons trained on him. Blocking the path to the
elevator.
Immediately, Reston dragged the girl back, they'd
just have to go back into the cell block while he
decided how to handle...
"Forget it," Red growled. "They're right behind
you, we saw them tailing you. You're trapped."
Reston pushed the gun barrel against the girl's
head, desperate, I've got the hostage, they can't, they
have to let me go...
"I'll kill her!" He backed up again, moving toward
the anteroom of the test program, the girl staggering
to stay on her feet.
"And then we'll kill you," John said, not a whisper
of lie in his deep voice. "If you hurt her, we'll hurt
you. Let her go and we leave."
Reston reached the closed metal door and reached
around for the control panel, hitting the button that
would unlock the gate and the hatch into One.
"You can't possibly expect me to believe that," he
sneered as the sheet metal slid up; there was only one
Dac left alive and he'd left their kennel open - I can
climb, I can still get away from them, it's not too late!
At that second, the door to the cell block opened
and the other two stepped out - stepped in between
the gunmen and him, and he acted before he had time
to think, taking his chance.
Reston pushed the girl away, hard, throwing her
toward all four of them and he jumped left in the
same motion, hitting the hatch with his shoulder. The
door into One flew open and he was through, slamming
it closed. There was a bolt and he threw it, the
the metal making a sound like music.
As long as he stayed away from the clearings, he was
safe. They couldn't touch him.
Strong hands caught her before she could crash into
the ground - and she could breathe again - and John
and Leon were alive ... the relief was an ocean of
warmth rising up over her, making her feel even
weaker than she already was. The extended chokehold
had taken most of what little strength she'd had. In
fact, now that she thought about it, Rebecca felt an
awful lot like death on two legs; like crap on a cracker,
as she used to say when she was a child...
Claire held her steady - it was Claire's strong
hands that she'd felt - and everyone gathered around
her, John picking her up easily. Rebecca closed her
eyes, relaxing into her exhaustion.
"Are you alright?" David asked, and she nodded,
relieved and happy that they were together again, that
no one had been hurt -
- no one but me, anyway -
- and she knew that once she had a chance to rest,
she'd be fine.
"We have to get out of here, now," Leon said, an
urgency in his voice that made Rebecca open her eyes,
the warm and sleepy feelings instantly gone.
"What is it?" David asked, his voice going just as
sharp.
John turned and started carrying her down the hall,
quickly, calling back over his shoulder. "We'll tell you
on the way up, but we've gotta go ASAP, no joke."
"John?" She said, and he looked down at her,
throwing her a small smile, his dark eyes telling a
different story.
"We'll be fine," he said, "you just relax, start
making up stories to tell us about your war wounds."
She'd never seen him look so uneasy, and she
started to tell him that she was wounded, not
stupid when a tremendous, thundering crash came from
somewhere ahead, a sound like walls being torn
down, like glass exploding, like a bull in a china
shop - and John spun around, running back the way
they'd come - then she couldn't see, but heard Claire's
gasp, heard David say, "Oh, my God," in breathless
disbelief, and felt her tired heart start to pound in
fear.
Something very bad was coming.
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