The Red Phoenix 12: Strength Comes in Numbers (39 page)

“On my command, men,” said Braddock, locking his automatic weapon as they drew closer to the office workers.

“Oh, thank God!” said Karen. “I knew somebody would come.”

“We need help out of here,” said a male. “Will you help us?”

Braddock and his men slowed down from jogging to walking briskly towards the employees, gripping their weapons, not saying anything.

“Of course we’ll help you,” Braddock answered as his men lined up in a row.

“Oh, wonderful! I knew that Siddoway was out of his mind,” Karen stated, sighing.

“Siddoway?” asked Osborne.

“Do you mean Dr. Alex Frederick Siddoway?” asked Braddock, holding up a device, showing her an image of him on a small digital screen.

“Yes, that’s him. He’s in the office space around the corner with President Greenfield,” Karen answered.

Braddock and Osborne glanced at each other like she was nuts.

“The president? She’s delusional, Commander,” said Osborne.

“I agree. Hallucinations must be a symptom of the virus, Lieutenant,” Braddock stated.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Karen, raising her voice. “Listen here, I—”

Braddock opened fire with his machine gun, cutting down Karen and the rest of the office workers within seconds as the soldiers joined in, riddling their chests, arms, legs and shoulders with bleeding holes. Their screams were brief until all fifteen of their bodies lay dead across the corridor.

Karen lay on her back, her eyes open as a thin trail of blood streamed down the side of her mouth.

“You’re excused, ma’am,” said Braddock, stepping over Karen in a pleasant voice, loading another magazine.

He scanned over the dead office workers with his device that stated,
CHRISTOPHER JAMES MICHAELS NOT IDENTIFIED.

“What do you want done, Commander?” asked Osborne. “This floor is huge and there are tons of corridors and rooms.”

“To the office area!” Braddock ordered, hurrying around the corner. “We’re going to tear this floor apart until Siddoway and Michaels are located.”

“Yes sir!” the soldiers said, rushing down the corridor, kicking in doors along the passage.

***

Down the far end of a corridor, Siddoway peeked around the corner, having watched the execution of the office workers.

“Oh my God,” he mumbled, frightened. “They just wiped them all out and now they’re coming for me.”

He stood next to Twelve to hide himself.

“Time to hide, sir,” said Siddoway, rushing to a restroom.

Next to the toilet stalls, Siddoway stared into the mirror, afraid. The fear of death was coming upon him.

“Mr. President?” he asked.

“Yes,” Twelve answered.

“They’re going to find us,” said Siddoway, turning around. “It’s time to present yourself to them and tell them that I saved your life. You’ll have to plead with them that we’re not infected by the virus, like the others.”

“Mr. Siddoway, I—”

“—Call me Alex,” he said.

“Alex, since the high probability draws near that your life is at risk, there is something you should know,” said Twelve.

“What’s that, sir?” asked Siddoway.

“I am not the President of the United States,” Twelve answered.

“What?” asked Siddoway.

“I am merely a clone of the one you call your leader,” Twelve replied.

“This can’t be, I… Uh…”

“I was created in Dr. Sanders’ lab along with eleven other clones under the supervision of Chris Michaels,” he continued.

Siddoway leaned against the sink, hanging his head low.

“Before we met, you vaporized two mutated creatures that were previously Dr. Sanders’ and Mr. Hauser’s assistant, Jake Steiner,” Twelve added. “We were on our way to Washington D.C. when the explosion occurred.”

“Michaels and his clones,” Siddoway said in a sad voice, gazing at the floor. “Well, that makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“I am truly sorry,” said Twelve.

“Why didn’t you say something before?” asked Siddoway.

“I am not programmed to impede my objective,” Twelve answered.

“Your objective?” asked Siddoway.

“To act as President Greenfield under any circumstances no matter what,” Twelve responded. “This was my first assignment given to me by Mr. Hauser.”

Siddoway buried his face in his hands with grief, rubbing his forehead.

“I would like to make this up to you, Mr. Siddoway,” stated Twelve.

“I don’t even know what to call you,” said Siddoway.

“My primary name was
Number Twelve
,” he answered. “Please call me Twelve.”

“Well, Mr. Twelve, the soldiers are coming,” said Siddoway. “In fact, I hear them coming down the corridor as we speak. And they will find us in this bathroom. And when they do, they’re going to aim their weapons at us both then shoot us in the head.”

“Then perhaps I shall stop them,” said Twelve.

“I never thought I would die on a bathroom floor somewhere,” said Siddoway, glancing up at the ceiling.

The sounds of the soldiers kicking in the door across the hall was heard in the background.

“They’re almost here,” said Siddoway.

“Stand against the wall, please,” said Twelve, guiding Siddoway to a corner.

“What are you going to do?” asked Siddoway, worried.

“Protect you,” Twelve answered, turning off the light.

The soldiers kicked in the bathroom door with their machine guns up, shining the lights on their weapons on Twelve’s back as he stood in front of Siddoway.

“There they are!” said Ashment.

“Time to die, guys!” Astrade stated.

Twelve turned to them. Their lights shined on his face.

“Hello gentlemen,” said Twelve in a calm tone.

“President Todd Greenfield?” asked Ashment, surprised.

“What the hell?” said Astrade, their guns still on them.

“The lady in the corridor wasn’t kidding,” said Astrade, chuckling. “The president is really here.”

“I’d like to ask you boys to lower those weapons,” said Twelve, moving towards them.

“We understand, sir,” said Astrade, reaching for his radio mic. “It’s just that we’re going to have to call this in to Commander Braddock.”

“You soldiers are going to have to do what you feel is RIGHT!” said Twelve, swiping Astrade’s thigh-holstered sidearm then shooting him in the neck.

A small spray of blood splashed on the wall behind him, as Astrade dropped to the floor, dead.

“Whoa!” said Ashment, aiming his gun at Twelve to shoot him.

Twelve shoved Ashment’s weapon’s barrel to the side. Ashment clenched Twelve’s wrist that held the pistol, forcing its aim to the ceiling as the scuffle caused them to go into a clumsy circle, firing their guns. The machine gun shot a line of holes across the bathroom mirror, soap dispenser, walls, toilet privacy walls and the urinals, while the pistol shot holes in the ceiling until their magazines went empty.

Siddoway crouched to the floor to avoid being shot, while random bullets landed just above him.

Ashment forced Twelve against the wall, punched him in the face, and slammed his wrist against the sink, forcing him to drop the handgun. Ashment pulled his sidearm. Twelve kicked it out of his hand, making it slide across the floor under the toilet stalls. Ashment pulled his combat knife and raised it to strike. Twelve kicked him back then leaped up to fight with his fists. He took off his suit coat, wrapped it around one of his fists.

“This will be over in a few seconds, Mr. President, or whoever you are,” said Ashment in a challenging stance, gripping his knife.

“Be warned, I am an artificial intelligence,” said Twelve.

“Well guess what, Mr. Robot? Your batteries just expired,” Ashment replied, noticing Siddoway over his shoulder.

Siddoway was crouching in the corner, terrified.

“There you are, Siddoway,” said Ashment. “Don’t worry, doc. After I cut this tin-man in half, I’ll be right with you!”

Ashment charged Twelve, slashing his blade at him. Twelve blocked three of his strikes but Ashment sliced him across the left bicep, cutting his sleeve open then kicking Twelve in the chest.

“Ah!” Twelve yelled, slamming against the privacy wall, gripping his arm like he was in pain.

Ashment charged him again. Twelve blocked him, caught his arm, hurried behind him, grabbed him by the head then snapped Ashment’s neck, causing him to fall dead without a groan.

“You okay?” asked Twelve, panting, taking his shirt off.

“That was impressive,” Siddoway replied, standing. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“Thank Michaels,” said Twelve, dropping his pants.

“What are you doing?” asked Siddoway.

“Quickly, we’ll put on their tactical gear and gas masks, blend in with them,” said Twelve.

“Brilliant,” said Siddoway.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE NUCLEAR ARSENAL

Chris and the clones trudged up the subway tracks, making their way to the subway platform of level minus forty-nine. The tunnel’s ceiling was twenty-feet from the rails. The concrete walls were twelve feet apart, making it a snug fit for the
Red Phoenix Express
to go through the passageways. Despite the sporadic twelve-inch round lamps mounted high on the tunnel walls, it made for a dark walk were it not for the lights mounted on their assault rifles.

Chris began to feel queasy. The reality of walking down the dark tunnel commenced a terrible vexation inside of him. He glanced at the walls that appeared to close-in on them like his mind was playing a horrible trick on him. His heart began to pound as anxiety started to trouble him. He began to see hallucinogenic images of his fellow soldiers trapped in the cellar in Pakistan, bleeding and screaming from being tortured on the sides of the tunnel, reaching out to him. He closed his eyes and focused on what he learned from his therapy sessions as his forehead began to sweat. He exhaled in a way that the others wouldn’t hear him, using controlled breathing techniques he learned from the therapist. He knew the feeling of failing his clones would be unbearable.
C’mon, don’t do this to me. Not now. Just let me get to the next platform
, he thought, concentrating on his breathing.

“Chris, you’re sweating. Are you all right?” asked Kerry in a caring tone, putting her hand on his shoulder, walking beside him.

“This tunnel is starting to give me the creeps,” he stated, catching his breath.

“You haven’t been the same ever since Pakistan, have you?” Kerry stated, smiling.

“What was that?” asked Chris, slowing to walk beside her.

“Don’t you remember? You were trapped in that cellar for days with the other soldiers, afraid for your life,” she added.

Chris gazed at her, baffled.

“What?” Kerry asked.

“Your memories are increasing,” Chris replied. “I don’t know whether to feel excited or worried.”

Kerry kept her hand on his shoulder. A feeling of comfort that he hadn’t felt for a long time came over him. He was falling for her all over again but, this time, she was accruing memories from the past as time went on and a new love for him.

She’s like a rejuvenated Kerry, but not. I’ll always love the real Kerry but my old feelings are growing for Two
, he thought.

Kirk One crouched and grasped the railing as Chris and the others walked on.

“Chris?” asked One.

Chris didn’t answer. He was still caught in his mental turmoil.

“Chris?” One asked in a louder tone.

“What?” Chris answered, turning to One, shaking out of his state of unease.

“I feel a vibration,” stated One, standing, staring down the tunnel. “Something is coming.”

Chris felt the railing, feeling a vibration that became stronger.

“Damn,” he mumbled.

“Shall we go forward or back, Chris?” asked Kerry.

“Everyone run back to the platform, now!” hollered Chris, sprinting back the way they came.

They ran like they were running for their lives. Kirks Three and Four tripped over the track railing and fell down, dropping their weapons.

“Get up, you two, and run!” shouted Chris, scared.

Three and Four helped each other up and ran on, catching up with the others.

The headlights of the subway train were like flickering, beady eyes in the background at the far end of the tunnel, heading right for them.

“Keep running! Don’t look back!” Chris shouted.

The
Red Phoenix Express
gained on them, picking up speed.

All of them were puffing, running down the tunnel.

“I see the platform!” Kirk One stated.

“It’s gaining on us, Chris!” Kerry cried.

Chris pulled on her arm, hurrying to the platform as the Kirk clones were just about to the station. The subway was right behind Chris and Kerry and looked like it was going to run them over.  The clones jumped onto the three-foot platform then rolled. Chris and Kerry did the same, avoiding being run over by an inch, just as the subway sped up to the platform. Chris and Kerry lay on the hard surface of the platform, catching their breath.

“That was close,” said Chris.

The Kirks walked up to them.

“Are you hurt?” asked Kirk One, helping Chris stand.

“Just glad the train is here,” Chris replied, wiping himself off then helping Kerry.

“Chris? You might want to come see this,” said Kirk Seven, standing next to an open sliding door.

“What is it?” asked Chris.

“It’s bad,” Seven answered.

Chris moved to the subway sliding door, noticing the bullet holes along the side of the train and the shattered windows.

“What the—” Chris mumbled, feeling a bullet hole beneath a broken window.

He peeked into the cabin from the sliding door, looking over the multiple dead passengers who lay on the floor, across the seats and against the metal poles.

“Oh my God,” he muttered in disbelief, entering the cabin.

“Who would have done this?” asked Kerry, following him in, disgusted.

“Siddoway was right,” said Chris, touching a woman’s face that lay on the seats.

“About what, Chris?” asked One.

“The military are here,” Chris replied. “It’s true, they’re killing everybody.”

“So, what’s the plan?” asked Kirk Nine.

“The plan is we need to get the hell out of here and fast,” Chris responded.

“That’s easy, we’ll just take the train,” said Kirk Ten.

“The only thing that worries me is that this is an inbound train,” Chris stated. “That means it has to go all the way down to level minus eighty before it can turn around and head to the outside.”

“Or a pile of rubble that’s blocking us from getting to the outside,” Kerry added.

“Good point,” said Chris.

“What about these bodies, Chris?” asked Kirk Four.

“Let’s place them on the platform,” Chris answered. “May they rest in peace.”

***

Braddock and his men jogged down the corridor. Siddoway and Twelve came around a corner, disguised as Astrade and Ashment with helmet, gas mask, body armor and assault rifles then joined in at the end of the group.

“Astrade? Ashment? Where have you two been?” asked Osborne, noticing them.

“Just looking for Siddoway, sir,” Twelve answered, sounding like Astrade with a Spanish accent.

“We’ve looked everywhere on this floor, commander,” said Siddoway in a rough voice, sounding like Astrade. “The slippery bastard must have got away.

“Any sign of Michaels yet?” asked Braddock.

“We can only hope he is dead,” Osborne answered.

“What was that about the president being down here?” asked a soldier as the group trotted around a corner.

“It’s like Osborne said. The virus made the infected survivors
loco
,” another soldier responded.

Twelve and Siddoway glanced at each other, relieved their disguises remained intact.

Braddock led them past an elevator vestibule.

“You sure you don’t want to test the elevators, Commander?” asked Osborne, jogging up behind him.

“We’ll take our chances with the stairs,” Braddock replied, arriving at a door titled
Stairwell
. “Unfortunately, we may have to use the elevators after the arsenal is deactivated.”

“Yes sir,” Osborne replied.

“You heard the Commander, guys! It’s tactical formation all the way to level minus eighty!” said Osborne. “Soldiers at the rear, watch for anything behind us!”

Braddock led them down the winding, bottomless shaft with his gun up.

“Ashment, Astrade, keep a watch out back there!” Osborne said from the front of the group as they made their way down the stairwell.

“Yes sir,” Siddoway responded, toughening his voice.

***

Chris and the clones moved the last dead passenger from the train and laid him on the platform next to the others. The dead bodies caused a thin trail of blood droplets from the train to the hard floor of the subway depot.

“That’s the last one, Chris,” said Kirk One.

“I simply can’t believe this,” said Chris, gazing at the rows of dead people who were murdered by the soldiers.

“Man’s inhumanity to man?” asked Kerry.

“How does one person decide the fate of hundreds of innocent people and be able to sleep at night?” asked Chris.

“They weren’t soldiers, Chris, they’re ruthless killers,” said Kerry.

“The sad thing is their orders came from the top,” Chris stated. “The leaders of our country.”

“Who?” asked Kerry.

“Like Siddoway hinted, the president,” Chris answered. “It was a numbers thing. Nothing more.”

“I don’t understand,” said Kerry.

“Our leaders believed these people were infected with something, probably a virus,” Chris replied.

“All this death over a virus?” asked Kerry.

“My leaders feared the survivors would release a deadly contagious virus that would infect the world and end the human race,” Chris responded.

“It sounds like we’re on our own then,” she stated.

“Exactly,” Chris answered, putting his arm around her shoulders, leading her back to the subway.

“We’re loaded up, Chris,” said Kirk One. “All ready to take off.”

The doors of the Express train closed and headed down the dark tunnel. Some of the clones leaned against the walls while others held on to the metal poles and sat in the seats. Chris and Kerry sat next to each other, his arm still around her.

There was a sound of wind coming into the cabin because of the shattered windows and holes in the sides, making it sound like a haunted train ride.

The subway continued on around bend after bend, going through one tunnel after another, making its way to the lower levels of the Red Phoenix.

Kerry and Chris looked at each other. He enjoyed the sparkle in her eyes and how much she reminded him of Kerry. He moved his face in and their lips touched. He liked kissing her top lip, bottom lip, both of her lips together as their heads moved in a sensual manner together. Chris paused the passionate moment, staring into her gorgeous eyes again. She placed her hand on his cheek, welcoming his romantic move.