Landfall (The Reach, Book 2) (46 page)

“Never heard of it, man,” Burress said, his eyes wild.  “What the fuck are we doing here?”

“I’ve got no friggin’ idea.  This level was meant to be locked off.  The engies made it so you can’t even get here anymore.  The button isn’t supposed to work.”

“Heh, these things break down all the time, man,” Burress said, putting on a brave face.  “We just caught a bad break.”

“Didn’t you hear about the disappearances a few years back?  A couple of constables came here on a dare and only one came back, said the place was haunted.”

“Okay, just stop it with that shit.  Right now.”  Burress directed his gun at Duran’s temple.  “Is this you?  Did you fuckin’ do this?”

Duran jangled the cuffs behind his back.  “Do I look like I can control elevators with my mind?  My hands haven’t been anywhere near those damn buttons.”

Adams peered out into the pitch blackness of Level Eighty-Seven.

“I’m telling you it’s haunted, man–”

“Shut the hell up, you idiot.”  Burress flicked his handgun at the doorway.  “Get out there and try hitting the call button or something.”

“No, thanks.”

“Shit,” Burress said.  “You’re a pussy, you know that?”  He shot Adams a disgusted look, then took a deep breath.  “Wait here.”  He stepped into the doorway.

Burress’ brains exploded against the back of the car and his body thumped against the floor so hard that the elevator car bounced.  Adams shrieked in horror and tried to press himself even further against the wall as his partner lay there staring up at them sightlessly with a gaping hole in his forehead.

Duran stood where he was, never moving a muscle, displaying no real surprise or concern.  Adams took one more look at his dead colleague and then steeled himself, ducking behind Duran and placing his pistol against his head.

“I don’t know who the fuck is out there,” Adams yelled, “but if you think you can get away with this, you’ve got another thing coming!  You just killed an
Enforcer
.  You know that?”

“No point hiding behind me,” Duran said casually.  “We’re both dead men.”

“Bullshit!” Adams hissed.  “That’s your friends out there–”

“No.  This is a hit, not a rescue mission.”

Adams poked his head up just above Duran’s shoulder.

“Well, if that’s true–”

He never said another word.  A bullet whizzed past Duran’s ear and smashed through Adams’ eyeball with a sickening,  meaty thud.  He was thrown against the back of the elevator and then hit the floor, dead.

Duran finally raised his eyes to the darkness outside.

“Nice shootin’, Zoe,” he called out.  “Inch perfect.”  He widened his stance and loosened his shoulders.  “One more to go.”

Beyond the small circle of light cast outside the elevator doors, there was not a thing to see within Level Eighty-S
even, not a sound to be heard.  It might have been a bottomless pit for all Duran could tell.

But he knew she was out there, watching him through telescopic sights at this very moment, her finger on the trigger.

He waited.

“Come on,” he goaded.  “I went against your wishes.  I did the wrong thing.  You can put me down now, just like Jonz.”

It was a better fate than being ripped apart in the Cellar, he thought distantly.  A clean death.  A quick death.  He could do a lot worse.

But there was no response from out there in the darkness.

Sighing, Duran knelt and fumbled for the keys on Burress’ belt, then unlocked the cuffs.  He tossed them aside carelessly and then stepped out onto the charr
ed vinyl floor of Level Eighty-Seven.

“Here!” he called, and his voice echoed around in the emptiness.  He spread his arms wide, accepting of his fate.  “I’m ready to do this.”

Still nothing.

Duran waited for a few moment longer, then lowered his arms and slapped them wearily against his thighs.

“You won’t do it,” he whispered to himself.  Then, raising his voice, he said it again.  “
You won’t do it.
  And I’ll tell you why.”  He took a few more paces forward.  “You’re not going to pull that trigger, Zoe.  You’re not going to do it because you believe in me.  Despite everything you’ve said, you still believe in me.  You
need
to believe in me.”

He saw her then, walking slowly into the light a short distance away, her eyes to her scope as she kept him in her sights.  As she neared he could see wetness on her cheeks where she’d been shedding silent tears.

“You don’t know jack shit,” she said bitterly.  “And you sure as hell don’t know a thing about me or what I need.”

“You watched me for so long that you fell in love with me, didn’t you,
Zoe?  Or at least you fell in love with an ideal version of me.”

“Shut up.”

“And you’ve been waiting for me to become that ideal since the moment you rescued me.”  He shook his head.  “But I’m not him.  I’m someone else.”

“Shut up, Alec.”

“So why can’t you pull that trigger?”

“Just watch me,” she said, stepping up close enough for Duran to see the fierceness in her eyes.

He lifted his fingers to the barrel of the rifle and gently pushed it downward.

“I’m here to tell you that you can still believe in me.  I know what I need to do.”

She glanced doubtfully at him, as if she might still pull the trigger, but then she relented.  The fight went out of her and she wiped the tears from her cheek.

“What are you talking about?”

“Prazor is a puppet.  You know as well as I do that if we took him out of the picture, they’d just replace him with another puppet, despite what de Villiers might think.  We’re wasting our time on a target like that.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“We reassess our targets, go for the ringleaders, the ones who will leave the biggest void in the Reach.  And I know exactly where to start.”

He stepped forward and kissed her, felt her squirm away from him for a moment, but then she relented.  She embraced him.  He felt her need, her desire, just as he had when they’d coupled in the kitchen.  After a moment he drew back and brushed his hand across her cheek tenderly
.

“Say you believe in me.”

She swallowed, searched his face.  “I believe in you, Alec.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.”  He reached down and took the holophone from her pocket, then called up Robson’s number.

After three rings he heard the tech’s voice on the other end.

“This is Switch.  Go ahead.”

“Switch, this is…”  Duran paused.  “This is Phoenix.”  He put his hand on Zoe’s cheek again.  “I need you to bring us home.”

45

The flashing red lights inside the Infirmary faded and the soothing soft glow was restored, and a moment later Knile eased his way back into Roman’s room.  Dr. Sullivan was still there, and as the door opened she positioned herself across the bed as if to protect the boy who lay therein.

Upon seeing Knile, she started and clutched at her breast.

“Wha–?”  She shook her head, disbelieving.  “How are you still here?”

“I’m tougher than I look.”

Sullivan glanced down at Knile’s dusty, torn clothes, his bruised and battered face and the blood that was matted in his hair.

“You’re a mess,” she said.

“Yeah.  But you should see the other guy.”  He moved around the side of the bed and clasped Roman’s arm.  The boy was still sleeping, but his colour had returned and he was much warmer to the touch.  “Is he…?”

“He’ll make it,” Dr. Sullivan said.  “He’ll need rest, a
lot
of rest, but he’ll be okay.”  She looked at Roman’s placid face with something akin to admiration.  “This would have killed a lot of other patients, those who weren’t as strong.  The kid’s tough.  Real tough.”

Knile nodded, feeling tears well behind his eyes.  His chest swelled with pride and affection.

“I know.”

“The Redmen, how did you–?”

“They’re gone,” Knile said simply.  “We made sure of that.”

“We?” Dr. Sullivan said, and then she turned as the massive bulk of Aron Lazarus filled the doorway.  Covered in dust and blood, his armour scorched and partially melted in places, the Redman looked as though he had walked through the very fires of Hell itself to reach them.  Tenuous strands of smoke still drifted from his body, as if something within him was still smouldering, and as always, those piercing eyes stared out from behind the mess of his hair and beard like embers of cobalt blue.

Even Knile had to admit the guy was an awesome sight.

Sullivan gasped and moved to block Roman again, panicked, and Knile understood her confusion immediately.

“No, he’s okay,” Knile assured her, easing her away from the bed.  “This one’s with me.”

“Has the healer saved the boy?” Lazarus said.

“Yes.  He’s going to be all right.”

Lazarus nodded.  “That is well.”  He glanced back in the direction from which they had come.  “We should not delay.  Once the Crimson Shield fail to report in, they will send more to investigate.  Your devilry with the alarms will not fool them for long.”

Knile glanced down at the tablet.  He’d eventually completed the hack that rescinded the Code One alert, but Lazarus was right.  He’d bought them a few more minutes, at best.

“I’ll need that back,” Dr. Sullivan said, holding out her hand.  “If you leave with it, it’ll be my ass.”

Knile smiled and passed the tablet to her.  “Wouldn’t want that.”

“There is a woman,” Lazarus said from the doorway, seemingly unwilling to enter the room.  “Her name is Tosia.  We need to see her.”

“Like hell,” Sullivan said.  “You’re not getting anywhere near one of my patients.”

“Please,” Knile said earnestly.  “We mean her no harm.  We just need to give her something, that’s all.”  He gestured to Lazarus.  “Show her.”

Lazarus reached into his ruined armour, wincing, and extracted the power blue diary from within.  Its edges had been singed and were now yellow and black, but for the most part it had survived the battle unscathed.

“A diary,” Lazarus said, holding it up.  “It belonged to her daughter.  I wish to return it to her.”

Sullivan looked at Knile, doubtful, then exhaled sharply.

“You guys are
just
about out of favours,” she said, tapping on the tablet.  A few moments later she raised her head.  “Room Seventy-One B.  Do what you have to do and then get out.”

Lazarus nodded but made no move to leave.  Knile took a step toward him, then the Redman held up a meaty palm.

“No, Knile.  You have done your part.  I discharge you from your duty.”  He nodded to himself, conviction in his eyes.  “This is something that I have to do.”

He lumbered out of the doorway without another word, and Knile turned back to Sullivan.

“Do you have a gurney I could take?”

“An orderly is already on the way with one.”

“Thank you.”  Knile began to move toward the door, but Sullivan stepped forward to intercept him.

“I can’t figure out if you’re incredibly brave, or just plain stupid, but either way I hope you and Roman make it.”

“Thank you, Dr. Sullivan.  You can’t know how much I appreciate this.”

“Sera,” she said, her stoicism giving way to a smile for the first time.  “Call me Sera.”

Lazarus arrived at room 71B and proceeded quietly inside, the diary held before him like a candle that lit his way in the darkness.  He had never seen Edyta’s mother before, but one look at the woman sleeping on the bed told him that this was indeed her.  Although withered and sickly looking, there was something familiar about Tosia’s nose, her jawline, that reminded him painfully of his lost love.

He stopped to look upon her for a moment, memories of the woman to which he’d once been devoted flooding back to him.  All of a sudden he could
recall
her smile, her laughter all too clearly, and he lifted a hand to cover his eyes.  His body was wracked by a silent, mournful sob.