Subject Nightingale 1: Birth and Death (3 page)

Chapter 3
Team Up
 

“
They started on the first floor, right?” Nightingale asked the bird, making one-sided conversation because it helped settle her nerves. “So they should all be above us, since they were already on floor fifty.”

She had found a stairwell door at the exit sign, and started making good progress as she rushed down the winding sets of stairs. She was already approaching the 40th floor, each cement landing raising her hopes higher and higher. She held on to the handrail and practically flung herself around the turns, but as she neared floor 30, the nightingale flitted off her shoulder and began chirping.

It dive-bombed straight down the center of the stairs, and Nightingale reached out after it. “Wait, come back!” she called out, but had already lost sight of its tiny body as it flew several floors down. She grabbed her head when she felt a headache building, and crumpled to the floor. She groaned and curled up on the stairs, huddling against the wall as the pain overtook her. “Not now!” she muttered.

That sinking feeling of vertigo hit her, and suddenly she was hurtling toward the first floor. She stopped next to the landing for floor 25, spotting the thick block lettering on the heavy steel door just in time to see it pried open from the other side. A squad of four rushed through, all dressed in the same black gear, each boasting a patch above their left chest pocket:
E.C.H.O.
The first three into the stairwell aimed their rifles all around, ensuring that the area was secure, while the fourth member collapsed a retractable crowbar and tucked it into a pouch on his hip.

“
Is that a bird?” one of them asked, distracted by the nightingale just before it flew away to rejoin Nightingale.

She shook her head when her vision returned, and the pounding began to subside. The headaches were getting shorter, but no less intense. The bird landed on her shoulder and started to sing, and Nightingale scrambled to her feet. She could hear their heavy boots rushing up the stairs.

She pulled herself up to the nearest landing, floor 31, and threw herself against the automatic door. When it didn't open, she began pounding on it and shouting, “Open up, come on! Please!” She grabbed the latch labeled
Pull in Case of Emergency
and tugged it, but the door didn't budge.

Panicking, she turned around and grabbed the handrail to peer down the stairwell. She could see the soldiers getting closer, and one of them spotted her.

“Contact topside!” he shouted, and the entire squad immediately shifted to run against the wall, using the stairs above them for cover as they moved.

Nightingale held her head and looked up the stairs, but doubted she could outrun them. She looked back at the heavy door and grabbed the emergency latch again, tugging it with all her strength, and eventually it eased open with much effort. The scent of smoke filled the threshold, and sparks erupted from around the latch, but the door opened just enough for her to slip through. She sidestepped through the narrow opening, and sprinted in the first direction she faced.

She turned a corner at the end of the hall, and stopped dead in her tracks when she came face to face with another squad of four. This wasn't an ECHO squad, though, it was one just like she had encountered earlier—building security, armed to the teeth, and shooting first without even the vaguest intention to ask questions later.

A hail of bullets erupted from their rifles, and all Nightingale could do was watch. There was no time to react, no time to dodge, she could only watch the bullets fly toward her body in slow motion. Her heart was pounding in her chest, beating in overtime, and she didn't even notice anymore when her nose began to pour blood. The bullets inched closer and closer; she could see them individually, and couldn't help but wonder which little piece of brass would be the one to bring a sudden and abrupt end to her life.

“What the...hell?” one of the security team members said as their gunfire ceased.

They were watching the bullets in slow motion, too.

Several of them had slowed to the point where they stopped completely, floating in midair right before their eyes. Nightingale exhaled when she noticed the bullets—and then when she realized it wasn't just some effect that impending death had on a person, they began moving again.

Most of them fell to the floor with quiet, spent little
clinks!
, a few continued their trajectory at soft-ball pitch speed and bounced off her body harmlessly, but a few resumed their full, natural speed. A few whizzed by her hair and severed a few strands, but one in particular struck her throat, and she felt her flesh torn. The brass burnt her skin, and the acrid stench of burning flesh filled her nostrils as she fell like a ton of bricks.

“
Contact right, contact right!” she heard someone yell as she laid on the floor, her failing sight staring up at the flickering tubes of light.

The gunfire resumed as the ECHO squad from the stairwell stormed the hallway. One of the members fired his automatic rifle from the safety of corner cover, providing a base of cover fire while the other three crouched low and advanced into the hallway where Nightingale laid dying.

“Contact down, confirmed kill!”

A shotgun blast overpowered the sound of so many automatic rifles for just a moment. “Contact down, confirmed kill! Reloading!”

Nightingale watched as one of the members of the ECHO squad kicked a steel gurney onto its side and crouched behind it. “We have an injured girl!” the squad member—a female with a Russian accent—shouted, and then began firing from behind her makeshift cover.

“
Focus on the guys with the guns for now!” a male voice shouted. “Two contacts still up!”

Another shotgun blast rang through the hallway. “Contact down, confirmed kill!”

“Reloading!” the man shouted. “Can anyone see Tommy!? Glitch squad, sound off! Jonny!”

“
Michaela!” the woman beside Nightingale shouted.

“
Theo!” another man shouted between shotgun blasts.

There was just gunfire, and then the first man—Jonny—shouted again, “Tommy, dammit, sound off!”

There was no response.

“
God dammit, where's Tommy!?”

The gunfire came to an abrupt halt. The last enemy contact dropped his rifle and gurgled as blood poured from his throat, the skin sliced from ear to ear by a black-steel combat knife. The missing member of Glitch squad dropped the body and wiped the blood off on his pant leg.

“Tommy. Contact down, confirmed kill. Area secure.”

“
God dammit, Tommy!” Jonny shouted as he let go of his rifle, letting it hang against his torso by its shoulder strap. “This renegade bull $#!% is gonna get you killed! Any one of us could've shot you!”

“
Calm down, we needed to clear these side rooms anyway.” He slipped his knife into a sheath attached to the shoulder of his tactical vest. “So I found a shortcut and flanked them, shouldn't you be commending me on a job well done?”

“
It is okay, little one,” Michaela said quietly, her voice soothing, as she set her rifle aside in exchange for a black kit with a red cross on it.

“
Is she gonna make it?” the man with the shotgun—Theo—asked as he approached Nightingale and the squad medic, reloading and then resting his gun on his shoulder.

“
She will be fine,” Michaela answered as she inspected Nightingale. “There is a lot of blood, but she appears mostly unharmed. She is just dazed.” She lifted her eyelids with her thumb and shone a penlight into her eyes to check her pupils. After that she removed a clean rag from her medical kit and began wiping the blood away from Nightingale's neck and face. “But where did it all come from?” she asked herself quietly as she worked.

Nightingale shifted her eyes away from the bright light and shook her head. Now that the noise and commotion had settled down—now that her pounding headache and the pain in her neck had mostly passed—her vision was clearing up. She could hear the nightingale again. It chirped quietly and hopped onto Nightingale's chest, having been hiding in her hair.

“It's that bird,” Theo said, crouching to get a closer look. “When's the last time I've seen one of them? It must've been years ago.” His dark skin was smudged with a bit of dust from the crumbling walls, which he wiped off his forehead with the back of his fingerless glove.

“
A bird is a very rare sight, little one,” Michaela said as she put her hand under Nightingale's back and helped her sit up. She was tan, her eyes dark blue, and her auburn hair was tied back in a thick, tight braid.

The bird flapped its wings and landed on Nightingale's shoulder. She looked up at the two members of ECHO, and then at the other two—Jonny and Tommy—who had been arguing until a moment ago. Jonny walked over and let out a breath, shaking his head slowly in frustration. “Is she okay?” he asked.

“She is fine, she is just in shock,” Michaela answered as she handed Nightingale a canteen.

She unscrewed the lid and drank the water eagerly.

“What are you doing here? What's your name?” Jonny crouched and looked Nightingale in the eye. His face bore similar markings of combat as the other's—soot, dust, and sweat, all of which had worked its way into his short brown hair to create a bit of an unkempt mess. He combed it flat with his fingers in an attempt to make himself appear a bit friendlier, but he could tell the girl was still frightened.

“
Nightingale...” she answered as she handed the canteen back.

“
Did she say Nightingale?” Tommy said accusingly as he approached, lifting his rifle suddenly and cocking the hammer back. He aimed square at her head, and Nightingale's eyes went wide.

“
Stand down, Tommy.” Jonny stood, immediately putting himself between Tommy's gun and the girl. “What the hell's gotten into you?”

“
There's a file on her in the dossier,” Tommy answered without lowering his weapon. “Check the report, California, Subject Nightingale.” His dark eyes and black hair offset his pale skin, and frightened Nightingale even further.

She scooted back against the wall and huddled in the corner created by Michaela's makeshift cover, and the nightingale once again took up residence in her hair. It seemed to grow frightened along with her, and began to chirp worriedly.

“I won't be checking anything until you lower your weapon!” Jonny raised his voice. “You're pointing a loaded weapon at your commanding officer. Stand down!”

“
Do not worry, little one,” Michaela whispered, “I will not let anyone harm you.”

Tommy's lips twisted into a sneer as he uncocked and lowered his gun.

Jonny lifted his forearm and peeled a piece of fabric off his sleeve to reveal a long, flexible touch-screen. He began quickly swiping through some screens until finding the file labeled
Subject: Nightingale
. Inside was a picture of the girl they had just discovered, and just a few pieces of information: her sex, approximate age, weight, and a brief note indicating her involvement in Doctor Metzger's unsanctioned experiments.

“
She's the reason we're here, California,” Tommy said, and then lifted his gun again. “Did you even read the file, or are you just rushing to wherever the Council throws your chew toy?”

“
I thought I told you to stand down, soldier,” Jonny said as he shut the screen off and covered it back up.

“
We have orders to terminate all experiments being conducted in this Lab,” Tommy stated simply.

Jonny shook his head and turned to face Nightingale. She was huddled in the corner and quivering, and Jonny didn't know what to do.

“We have our orders,” Tommy reminded him.

Jonny touched the elastic band that was fit snug around his throat, and his voice was suddenly carried into the earpieces all the members of his squad were wearing. “ECHO command, come in. This is Jonny California, Glitch squad.”

“Loud and clear, Glitch squad,” a female dispatcher answered.

“
Command, we've located Subject Nightingale. Subject is a girl—she's just a child. Please advise.”

“
Your slash-and-burn orders stand. All Lab staff and experiments are to be terminated on sight.”

“
But she's just a kid,” Jonny said.

“
Your slash-and-burn orders stand, soldier.” The voice was firmer.

Tommy's gun was trained on Nightingale, his finger on the trigger. Michaela was staring up at him and Jonny, her expression defiant as one hand crept to her sidearm and unclasped the holster. Theo eased his shotgun off his shoulder as the tension in the air thickened.

“ECHO command, please repeat,” Jonny eventually said. “Your last two transmissions were garbled. We found a kid, please advise.”

Tommy immediately cocked his rifle and prepared to fire on Nightingale, Michaela drew her pistol and put herself directly in the line of fire, and Theo cocked his shotgun and shoved the barrel into the space between Tommy's armpit and body armor. Jonny tore the band on his throat to sever communications with the command center, and turned to train his rifle on Tommy.