Out of the Black (16 page)

Trembling, she clinked the tube against the receptacle in her tray several times before she got it stowed. Time to go, time to go, time to go.

Anne had a hand on her tray, lifting it as she pushed her stool back. Then she stopped dead, still sitting on the stool. On the table in front of her, the Harm's head was slowly turning in her direction. Anne wanted to run away screaming, but a terrible curiosity gripped her. The Harm's face was almost in view now, her profile was covered with her platinum and red hair, but as her head continued to turn, the damp hair began to fall from the face... a few strands... a few more.

Silence washed through the ER as the other Harm's screaming cut off. She hoped Wyler had succeeded with his needle, but couldn't force herself to turn away and see.

The Harm's head continued to twist until she was looking directly at Anne and her face was at last visible. Wrong. The eyes were wrong; the mouth was wrong.

The eyes were bulging with a dark amusement that danced like a shadowy bloodshot flame. Like most Harms, her pupils crowded out her irises, but this seemed even less natural, if that were possible. The black of her pupils seemed to be crowding the white out of her eyes, too.

The mouth was pulled into a tight rictus, lips stretched back over clenched teeth, like someone expending all their energy showing the world just how happy they really were. Her top lip split, spilling blood onto her teeth. Veins and tendons stood out on her neck and arms as she struggled against the restraints. In a flash, Anne realized the most disturbing difference in the Harm. It wasn't the eyes, not the smile, not the blue static her imagination painted into the Harm's dead, black eyes. It was control- no screams, no thrashing- the Harm's chaotic insanity had seemingly been replaced with a distilled evil kind of insanity.

There came a sound like the bursting of a watermelon and one of the Harm's shoulders slumped, dislocated. Still, her damaged arm continued to strain at her bonds. Her eyes locked with Anne's, her smile still gathering intensity.

Anne was powerless. She was held fixed by the intense eyes. The strangest sense of déjà vu crept in around her tingling mind... oh yeah, she'd been here before, seen this same video the last time she'd walked home from work. Time to GO!

Anne surged to her feet, sending the stool flying. The edges of the Harm's right eye darkened red-black as a blood vessel burst. New screaming was now coming from the location of the other Harm, but it wasn't him screaming. It was Wyler's terror that rang out loudest among a new cacophony of urgent shouts and crashes. With a large effort, Anne broke eye contact with whatever this Harm was becoming and looked across the room, toward the screams.

The other Harm was a large black man with the most clueless hairstyle Anne had ever seen outside of a mirror. He was behind the doctor with an arm around his neck. Somehow he'd gotten out of the restraints- one of the EMTs was down, holding his face. The other was clearly dead with an unidentifiable piece of metal protruding from the side of her neck.

"Ninjas should not do drugs", Anne said into the ether of unreality that again surrounded her.

Two orderlies were poised a short distance away. They had their stunners out, but were holding their fire, not wanting to hurt the doctor, not wanting to provoke the Harm. The Harm's glare was fixed on Anne with the same lip-splitting grimace. The same distinctive obsidian mirth danced in his eyes.

This was not normal Harm behavior! They were violent, they were psychotic, but they did not work together, they did not have a plan or a purpose. Sure, Harms seemed evil, but these guys looked like the devil's butler on payday.

Like a preoccupied moviegoer might take a bite of popcorn, the Harm bent down and bit a chunk out of Wyler's ear without breaking his stare at Anne. Screams were everywhere. The ambulatory and uncowed were scrambling for the exits. Two beds away from the melee, a mother tried to cover her unconscious and bandaged daughter with her body. This was a bad night to visit your local ER.

Wyler's eyes were straining at their sockets, casting about wildly for help, solace- anything. His hands were clawing ineffectively at the arm around his neck. She could clearly distinguish his scream from the rest of the cacophony.

The ruse worked. Both orderlies fired, one hit the doctor in the side, knocking him thankfully insensate. The other shot hit the Harm full in the face. He staggered back. Wyler began to slip out of his loosening grip. Both orderlies rushed forward, one fired again, but the shot went wide.

Anne noticed three things essentially at once:

First: Things were moving in that surreal dream-state slow motion that trauma survivors often describe.

Second: The Harm wasn't as stunned as he appeared- she could tell from the horrible grin that a direct hit from a stunner should have made impossible. She could actually see his eyes darting between the approaching orderlies, little evil wheels turning in his head. Things were about to get much, much worse. Blood ran down Wyler's slack face, staining his shirt, the Harm's grip was tightening again around his neck. Anne knew Wyler's wife, had played with his new baby in the break room just last week. The Harm wasn't done with him.

And third: (and most disturbing of all) Anne noticed that she was now lumbering toward the Harm, feeling like a slightly heavier version of an enraged rhino. A new feeling coursed through her, warm and smooth. She was going to help.

Well, she was going to die trying to help anyway- 'A' for effort.

She charged toward inevitable death feeling free.

***

"
Less
subtle?" Rae said, astounded. "How could they possibly be
less
subtle?"

"They've probably got uniforms they're going to go put on." Ping said.

"Maybe that was a signal to start a musical number?" Alex said, struggling to keep his voice quiet.

Outside, Good Cop lifted a hand and shouted, "Game's over! Scanners!"

Rae spoke first. "Ok. That is slightly less subtle."

Ping didn't yet see a way out. He pulled out his tablet and switched it out of private mode. He left the recorder running. Nobody was going to believe this.

"What'cha doin?" Rae asked.

"Calling for help."

"Yeah. Good luck." Alex said without enthusiasm.

Ping opened a connection through the emergency ports at dispatch, or tried to. The tablet was out of private mode, but it had not yet connected to the Library's network.

"No luck eh?" Alex was shaking his head. "The first thing they did was yank down the net here. I checked when I first realized we were trapped."

"How're you maintaining connectivity with the camera out there?" Rae asked.

"I love it when you talk technical." Alex smiled, "Old school direct connection. Guy at the spy store told me it was better not to connect to some appliances through the net... guess he was right. I'm direct wired to the archive's bookshelf controls through the box there, too." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the junction box on the wall.

"I'm really trying to resist saying, 'we need to get out of here', guys." Rae said.

Alex was flipping his stylus again. "I've got the beginnings of a plan. You shoot as well as you draw Detective?"

***

Terror, sympathy, fury; the emotions chased each other through Anne's mind. Black, white, red; their heat and color cycled through her, burning her, filling her- waking her.

She approached the Harm and Wyler in a crystal clear slow motion. As she ran, the emotions cycled faster, blurring together until they were only perceptible as a single and unfamiliar emotion. With an almost audible click, she realized that this new feeling was the passion of determination. This was what it was to have a purpose, what it was to be alive. Hmm... so that's what it felt like. Nice to find out so close to the end of her life, but better late than never.

The two orderlies rushed in. The Harm's face smoked from the stunner blast. Wyler flew headfirst into one onrushing orderly. Their heads connected with a sound Anne would hopefully forget soon. Blood filled the Harm's grimace. He turned to the other charging orderly. The orderly faltered, losing the commitment of his attack; the Harm didn't hesitate.

Anne's mind recoiled from the last orderly's fate, not least of all because she was probably about to share it. But her heart beat hotter, her blood flowed wilder; she was either shouting or screaming, but she was doing it so slowly she couldn't tell which. It seemed like she had begun her mad charge minutes ago, but she had only crossed perhaps six meters, and she still had another three to go. This wasn't just the adrenaline slowdown she had earlier thought. Maybe this was her new vampire nature, she thought with an internal shrug- if so, she was definitely going to feast on this Harm's corpse when this was over.

Two meters to go. Running had definitely changed for her. It seemed that her skeleton was moving fasterlt liker flesh, as if she were an Olympic swimmer attempting to race through a pool of her own private jello. Normally, running was about keeping her weight from dragging her to the ground like an over-eager high school wrestler on steroids, but now she was running with efficiency and even grace. Weird, she thought as she vaulted over a wheeled gurney and the tough-looking leather-clad biker-type-guy trying to crawl beneath it.

One meter to go. The Harm had his arms up in front of him like an odd cross between a professional boxer and Frankenstein's monster. He waited for her in blood and cruelty with his demon's smile. Were all the Harms in the ward tonight just misdiagnosed satanic possessions?

As the Harm filled her vision, she wished she didn't have so much time to think about what she was doing. But then, to her great dismay, she got her wish.

Into the oddly muted speedscape through which she ran, the sound of her scream sped and expanded. Everything accelerated and her arms tangled with the Harm's in a blur of movement and jarring pain. Terror quenched her fury as her vision narrowed and she grew numb to her actions.

Her teeth rattled under the impact of the Harm's first savage blow. She was not going to live to regret this.

***

Garvey looked around the library archive. He hated these undercover operations. Though his suit looked good on him, he didn't like wearing it. He didn't like having to play nice with the cops, but mostly he hated having to restrain his natural impulses. At least now the time for restraint was over, at least now it was the time for action. Yep, he had an all day pass for the circus and he was giddy with thoughts of the play to come.

The Grunts were moving though the moveable racks of books, scanning methodically for their prey. He heard the door open and turned back to the entrance. His partner walked through the stairwell entrance with six more grunts behind him. The grunts had their automatic weapons and scanners out.

"Let's fan out!" Nieland shouted at the grunts as he moved to Garvey. "This won't take long."

Garvey nodded. "What's the rush?" They shared a wicked smile.

The lights went out.

It was dark as a tomb for an instant, then the emergency lights above the stairwell engaged, lighting the exit, but not much more. There wasn't even enough light for shadows.

"Find the breakers for this level, Smith!" Garvey shouted.

"Net's down sir!" the shout came back, "Can't access the schematics."

"Then scan for the wires... follow them!" Garvey shouted, then he lowered his voice, "Grunts." he said with derision.

"Yep." Neiland muttered, "you've gotta tell them every little thing." Then he shouted, "Skip your torches! Get your seers on!"

As Garvey fumbled his seers out of his jacket pocket, the room filled with the sound of electric motors and slow mechanical movement. He slipped the stylish glasses on, configured them for zero light operation, and the world turned into a clear, green-tinted approximation of daylight.

Someone had activated all of the densepack library shelving. All the racks of books were sliding on their runners in a seemingly random pattern, closing and opening isles between them as they moved a

The moving shelves were slowing down the search, making traversal between the main aisles slower, but that was all. Like turning out the lights, this was only a distraction. If Lutine's apprentice were going to try something, it would be now.

Standing in the archive's central hallway, Garvey opened his mind and dove into the Underworld, where his Cast stretched out, searching. If the apprentice tried anything, Garvey would be ready for him.

"Stay sharp!" Neiland shouted, "They're probably going to make a break for it!"

***

Weapons drawn, Ping and Rae moved out into the inky blackness of the aisle. Ping went right; Rae went left. They couldn't see a thing since the agents weren't using their flashlights and the exit beacons didn't come close to reaching the back of the cavernous archive. They were blind, but if you could believe Garvey about the seers, his men were not. Ping's sunglasses had a night-vision mode, but he'd left them in the glove box of his car. Alex's camera cluster had a zero light mode, so he could still see from within the utility room, but Ping and Rae had to take it on faith that they weren't currently in the sights of one of the agents. Ping wondered if they were trying to capture him or would just shoot on sight. Either way these palookas were likely to shoot first and ask questions never... they were just that subtle.

There was a corner here that Ping was hoping not to turn. What if these guys really were federal agents? What if Garvey and company were wearing the white hats? What if pigs
could
fly? He didn't yet know exactly what was going on, or who the players were. He didn't want to shoot anyone, but he wanted to be shot even less, and he had the distinct impression these guys didn't bring handcuffs.

His left elbow brushed along the shelf to keep him oriented, both his guns were held close but ready before him as he slipped through the darkness. Before him, a gray patch of darkness resolved from the absolute black. He had reached the end of the aisle, but didn't dare poke his head around it toward the dim light for fear that it would get shot off by the unseen gunmen. He closed his eyes and waited for Alex's big move. Thirteen vs. three, three pistols vs. at least eleven automatic weapons plus whatever Good Cop and Bad Cop were carrying.