Homecoming, page 29
“We should be okay now,” he said, but still quietly. “The labs along here won't be occupied this time of night, so we should be on our own.”
“Where are we?” Belle asked as she looked around.
“Delta Bravo,” he replied.
“That really doesn't tell me much.”
“Oh, sorry. This is the sister lab set up to mine, the one that Sara ran. Like I said before, what we do and what they do are usually in line with each other, but our departments and work aren't brought together until much later in the developmental progress, and then not always by us. Often another unit will take over the work and our data is simply removed.”
“So you’re working on a sedation transport system, right?” Vanek asked.
The man's voice made Belle jump as she'd forgotten he was even there. He seemed to make no noise and lacked a presence even when standing close by. She guessed it was a skill he had learned for his profession; it didn't make it any less creepy though.
“Yes. Whatever they want it for, we’ll find it in here.”
“So how do we look?” Belle asked, looking around the complicated lab.
“We don't. I do,” Wendell replied as he sat down at a desk.
He paused for a moment looking at a blank screen.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Once I log in, they’ll know it was me. Every terminal requires a key code to work. This’ll be the end of my career; hell, I'll be lucky to stay out of jail after the court martial.”
“But we need to know what they're doing here, Wendell,” she replied gently. “This was Travis’s town; it’s his people that are dying out there,” she pushed.
“I know. He couldn't wait to get out of this place. He never felt that he could be himself here, but deep down he still loved Wellspring. I know that.” Wendell nodded. “If he were here, then he’d want me to find the truth, I know that.” The man sighed heavily. “Not to mention the fact that if all this was down to this place, then I don't know how much of a hand I might have played in it myself,” he finished quietly before turning the computer on and entering his access code.
Belle was glad that Vanek had the good sense to remain silent… after all, he'd been the one to kill Travis. But Wellspring was now the priority. Whatever they were doing here at the Institute had placed everyone in terrible danger, and Wendell’s fingers were about to tell them why.
“Go watch the door.” She turned to Vanek who thankfully did as she asked without argument.
She resisted the urge to repeatedly tell Wendell to hurry up despite her gnawing and growing fear. She trusted that he was more aware than any of them of the time constraints, and nagging at him would achieve nothing.
Minutes passed and it was hard to hold onto her calm. While they weren’t making enough noise to lead to their discovery, she didn't know if the computers would be monitored. If someone saw that one of the terminals was currently operational, then that someone might well take a wander down here to check.
If, as she feared, the military had let one of their projects get loose and wreak havoc in her town, then the three of them would most likely disappear and be chalked up to collateral damage.
While she’d witnessed first-hand third-world government cover-ups, she'd never been quite as cynical to think that it could happen here; that, however, was an opinion she was rapidly starting to rethink.
Eventually, Wendell sat back from the screen and flexed his fingers as though the rapid and intense typing had taken its toll.
He rubbed his temples and let out a deep sigh before placing his interlocked fingers behind his head in a pensive pose.
“So?” she asked him when she couldn't stand waiting for his response any longer.
“Basement level section 3G,” he replied slowly.
“And what's there?”
“I don't know, but whatever they've been working on is down there. This terminal has its limits as far as access goes, but they've been working on organic matter, that much is clear.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Our transport system is to carry organic matter, living tissue; whatever it’s meant for is down in the basement.”
“Or maybe its running loose in my town,” she responded.
“Only one way to find out.”
“Can you get us down there? With your access, I mean.”
“Not directly, but I'm sure that I can figure out a way.”
“You know, it's strange, but I really don't see that happening.” A new voice joined them from behind.
Belle turned to see Doctor Sutherland standing there flanked by two soldiers pointing automatic rifles at them, and their lookout was nowhere in sight.
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Marko couldn't help but be affected by the ranting of a woman clearly in need of psychiatric help. Her echoing voice along the school hallways in the dark made him deeply uneasy, and he had to admit that he was starting to wonder how nuts the woman really was.
If Tara was affected, then she was hiding it well, so he followed her example… mainly, he had to admit to himself, so as not to look scared in front of Lizzie.
The bombastic sermon was still raging on as they made their way up towards the office where the headmistress had set up her pulpit for the long night ahead.
With one of the two remaining long-range radios in town, she had a captive audience in Wellspring and appeared to be taking great delight in hammering her preaching home.
He had tuned out her religious ramblings now, her words offering nothing but bleakness and rants about God’s Old Testament retribution.
While he had been listening, it appeared that she was blaming Tara directly or at least the Devil's forces that were apparently guiding the town constable’s hands. The cancellation of the town’s winter festival was apparently now going to bring about a snowy Armageddon that would never thaw. The offerings of the festival were supposed to bring about God’s favour, and without them, they would be cast out of the world and the light of the Lord.
“Did you know she was this crazy?” he whispered to Lizzie as they walked side by side.
“I might be the town doctor, but I deal with the physical, not the mental state,” she replied. “I mean, I heard a few rumours about her going a little off the deep end, but this? This is a whole new level. She needs our help,” she added, loud enough for Tara to hear her. “Our help, Dan.”
“I know, I know.” He nodded agreeably.
But in truth, he wasn’t so sure. The headmistress didn't sound like she would be in the mood for a friendly fireside chat; she sounded like she was spoiling for a fight. His biggest concern right now was the radio in her office. That wasn't just their way out… it was the whole town’s.
They reached the office door but didn't need to creep about. The woman's raging voice was bellowing out and covering their approach as her voice rose ever higher in pitch and intensity.
“THE DEVIL WALKS AMONG US. HE HAS TAKEN A GUISE TO FOOL US ALL. HE HAS SLIPPED INSIDE OUR SISTER AND NOW HE SEEKS TO RAZE OUR TOWN TO THE GROUND. THE WINTER WILL NEVER END UNTIL WE MAKE PEACE WITH OUR GOD. WE HAVE TO SEEK HIS FORGIVENESS AND OFFER UP BLOOD AND FLESH AS SACRIFICE IN HIS NAME BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!”
Marko stood behind Tara as she reached out and gently grabbed the office door knob. She was seemingly unafraid of the crazy woman inside, and he envied her steady calm as his own heart was pounding way too fast.
Tara turned to him and mouthed 1... 2... before bursting into the office on 3.
The three of them charged in, hoping to catch Huffman off guard. Marko agreed with the tactic, given what they’d already endured during the past couple of days.
They couldn't afford to take anything or anyone for granted right now. While the headmistress was a somewhat slight woman approaching retirement age, he didn't feel like taking any chances.
They burst in and found the office in almost darkness, save for a small, desk lamp. The high-backed, leather-bound chair was facing away from the door and at a table where the long-range radio sat. Upon their sudden entry, Huffman didn't turn the chair around and instead simply continued her speech as her voice carried on raging at an ear-splitting volume.
“REPENT. REPENT, BROTHERS AND SISTERS, BEFORE HIS WRATH SENDS US TO THE VERY DEPTHS OF HELL!” the headmistress’s voice screamed.
Tara marched across the office and spun the chair around violently, only for them all to see that it was unoccupied. Instead, there was an old-fashioned tape recorder machine on the seat playing Huffman’s voice. The mic for the school PA system had been taped down so that it continued to broadcast throughout the building, but the long-range radio itself had been smashed to pieces much like the one at the station.
“DO NOT BE DECEIVED. GOD IS NOT MOCKED. FOR WHATEVER ONE SOWS, THAT WILL HE ALSO REAP! HEAR ME NOW, WELLSPRING. HE SHALL PUNISH US ALL FOR OUR DESERTION FROM THE WAY, FROM HIS OFFERINGS!”
“WHERE THE HELL IS SHE?” Marko yelled over the tape machine.
Tara leant down and yanked the machine’s cord out of the wall, plunging them into a deafening and sudden silence.
“Thank God for that,” Lizzie said, shaking her head, no doubt trying to regain some sense of hearing after the booming voice in the enclosed space.
“What the hell is all this?” Marko asked aloud.
“Insanity,” Tara replied simply as she inspected the radio set without seeing anything to encourage any of them.
The three of them were facing the chair with their backs to the door. Their collective attention was focused on the broken machinery that had represented their best chance of calling the outside world for help. Now that they were two down, there was only the Institute left, and Marko could only pray that the others were having better luck.
Such was their disillusionment that none of them heard the movement behind them until it was too late. It was only when someone let out a high-pitched scream of warrior attacking spirit that they turned around.
Millicent Huffman came charging towards them. One hand was raised high above her head and clasping something glinting silver. The letter opener had been a gift from the school for 30 years of service. Engraved on the side of the blade was the Latin phrase ‘actiones secundum fidei’, which translated aptly into ‘action follows belief’.
Huffman barged past Marko as he tried to put out a hand to stop her, but he clearly wasn’t her intended target. Tara only had time to turn before the blade was driven deeply into her chest.
The headmistress let out a savage scream of triumph as she wrenched the blade free before she turned and fled out of the office as quickly as she had appeared.
Marko caught Tara just as she fell to the ground clutching her chest. He lowered her down gently to the floor, his hands already getting wet with the woman's blood as it trickled out and into her clothing, quickly soaking through.
“Lizzie. LIZZIE!” he yelled, panicked.
The doctor quickly knelt down at his side and started to unzip Tara’s thick winter coat. Marko prayed that the outer garment had absorbed some of the blow to downgrade it from fatal, but as Lizzie opened it, there was so much blood that he couldn't believe Tara was going to make it.
“Lizzie?” he pleaded with both her and God.
She busied herself with medical training as she grabbed his hands and forced them down onto the chest.
“You’re going to apply pressure, hard pressure, Dan. You hear me?” she yelled at him when he didn't reply immediately.
“Yeah, I'm here, hard pressure, got it.”
He did as she ordered and allowed her to place his hands in the correct place, and then he pushed down hard. Tara winced at the touch, but Lizzie didn't allow him to ease up and pushed his hands down harder again.
“Pressure!” she bellowed at him. “That's it. Keep your hands there, and do not let up. You hear me?”
He nodded fiercely as the blood started to ooze through his fingers, but he held firm and swallowed both panic and a little acidic vomit.
Lizzie started to ransack the office, opening cupboards and throwing the contents out.
“I've got to find a first-aid kit,” she called out, but not discovering one. “There must be a nurse’s office around here somewhere,” she said, and Marko heard her moving towards the door.
“Don't go out there!” he called out worriedly.
“I have to. If I don't, then she's going to die.”
“But that lunatic’s still out there! She could get you next.”
“I’ll be careful, Dan, but I can't just let Tara die… not like this, not when I could do something about it.”
“Look, the bleeding’s stopped,” he cried out hopefully as he looked down and saw that the blood was no longer seeping through his fingers at a worrying rate.
“What?”
“Look, it's almost stopped completely now,” he said hopefully.
Lizzie knelt back down by his side and checked the wound. She saw that the blood was indeed no longer spilling out, but she was a lot less happy than Marko when she confirmed it.
She leaned past him and checked Tara’s neck with two fingers. She did the same on the woman's wrist before leaning down and placing her head down onto Tara's chest. When she pulled back up, he could see that there was no blood on her cheek from the wound, and then she placed her hands on his and pulled them away.
“What are you doing?” he demanded. “You said we had to keep pressure on the wound! Hard pressure, you said!”
He knew what she was doing and why; he just didn't want to believe it.
“She’s gone,” Lizzie confirmed. “I’m so sorry, Dan. She's gone.”
He opened his mouth to argue, to tell her that she was mistaken, that there was no way that Tara could go out like this, not stabbed by some lunatic pensioner, but in the end, he didn't say anything; he just clung onto Lizzie as he started to weep.
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CHAPTER 24
The Longest Night Part Two
Vanek had heard the guards coming, but a quick mental evaluation told him that he wouldn't be able to warn the others without also giving himself away. As a result, he simply retreated into the shadows and allowed the soldiers and the white-coated doctor to do their thing without seeing him.
One skill that he'd been born with was the ability to simply blend into the background and go unnoticed by the world around him whenever he needed to.
He’d stood by motionless and silent as Belle and Wendell were escorted out of the lab and away out of sight, but he’d overheard Wendell telling Belle that the answers lay down on the basement level. Whatever the army had been making up here was kept down there.
His first instinct, of course, was to now head for the hills. The army would surely have a vehicle that he could steal, one capable of traversing the storm outside. He had money set aside in untraceable accounts, but with Kline dead, there would be a demand for answers, especially by the Colombians who would scorch the earth to find him and their missing millions. He wasn’t confident that he could evade Alvarez’s wrath on his own.
His boss had taken a drug shipment far larger than he ever had before, and to compound the problem, he'd taken the consignment without paying cash up front. Not only had he agreed to pay over the usual price, but now the shipment had literally gone up in smoke. He knew that the Colombian’s reputation as a merciless killer was a richly deserved one. The man wouldn’t think twice about sending a hit squad over to these shores and wreaking bloody havoc to retrieve what he was owed.
With Kline dead, Vanek wasn't confident that would end the matter. Alvarez was out several million pounds, and he wouldn't let that slide. In their business, you simply couldn't afford to when your reputation was worth far more than any monetary amount. If he couldn't get his money, then an example would have to be made, and that meant bodies in the street.
Any thoughts he'd had about assuming control over Kline's empire were now gone; he knew that. The man's name was toxic and a death sentence to anyone connected to him. Instead of looking to assume control, Vanek now had to disappear. If he ran on his own, then he wasn't confident that he would be able to escape the Colombian’s grasp. That left him with the need for help, the sort of help that perhaps only his government could offer, along with a pardon. Maybe if this motley crew brought down a large-scale conspiracy, he could be a star witness in exchange for immunity and witness protection. On the other hand, if the government sought to cover all this up, then he could easily be bought off for his complicity. But first he had to have something to bring to the table, and that meant a trip downstairs.
Making his way through the facility was relatively simple. He guessed that Belle and even Wendell would see him still being free in here as help to their cause. As a result, he knew that they would keep his presence secret because it benefitted them and not out of any desire to protect him.
The Institute seemed to be a lot more science-oriented on the upper levels, but the lower he went, the more it started to resemble a military operation.
The security was increasing as he descended, and he soon found himself looking for a lazy guard. Fortunately, it didn't take long to find a mark. He guessed that this place, while heavily guarded, wasn't expecting much in the way of a breach, at least not from the outside in.
He found a security room below the main level and a single napping guard. He waited in the shadows, evaluating the situation, and as usual, his patience was rewarded when soon after a second man walked past the booth and banged loudly on the window. The man inside sat up with a start and jerked himself awake.
“I wasn't asleep,” the inside guard lied.
“Bullshit,” the outer one replied. “Look, I know this shit with Lisa is messing with your mind, but you've gotta get it together.”
“Easy for you to say; it's not your wife screwing around while you’re stuck in the ass end of nowhere!”
“Look, man, I get it. I really do, but if Butcher catches you again, you're going to end up wishing you were anywhere else, brother. He's already got a hard-on for you. You really want to give him any more ammunition?”
