Chương 140

The night outside had not gone quiet. Under floodlights and smoke, people worked through Beckley's damaged streets. Men dragged boards over blown-out windows. Women carried buckets from one line to another. A crew with flashlights worked around a collapsed wall, calling into the dark spaces beneath the broken beams. Blood did not draw attention anymore. Half the people Louis saw had it somewhere. Smoke and dust had made everyone gray. Louis kept the rifle low against his chest and carried himself like a guard.

The jacket pulled tight across his shoulders, and one cuff was stained with blood. He kept that side turned away from the light. Gladice walked beside him in the second uniform, the rifle held with more natural ease than he could manage. The others came between them, heads low, hands visible, moving like detainees being transferred under guard. Angelique was the first to adopt the posture of a detainee. Willa kept her eyes down. Donya held Cherish by the elbow.

Savannah kept the knife hidden beneath her sleeve, with blood still dipping from her hands. They passed the first group without being stopped. A worker glanced at them and looked away. A stretcher team crossed the street in front of them, carrying a corpse. Gladice leaned close without turning her head.

"You know where you're going?"

"No," Louis said.

"Great plan."

"We will find out when we see it." Ahead, six soldiers turned the corner and headed toward them. Louis gripped the rifle more firmly and kept walking. Gladice straightened and lengthened her stride. The squad approached in a loose line, rifles at the ready, their faces dirty and tired. One of them held a small tactical light.

"Hold," the officer said. Louis stopped. The others stopped behind him. His heart hammered, but he kept his face neutral.

"You have a lighter? Mine's dead." The officer lifted a cigarette.

"No," Gladice said before Louis could answer.

"Lost it in the bombing." The officer glanced at their uniforms, then at the faces behind them. His eyes lingered on Cherish's wet cheeks.

"Detainees?" he asked.

"Yes." Louis kept his voice flat.

"Comrade Chairman wants them for questioning." The officer nodded.

"Carry on." They moved past the squad without another word. Louis did not look back. He heard their footsteps fade behind him.

"Good thinking," he said to Gladice.

"Don't die," she said. They kept moving along a path between the damaged buildings.

"That must be it," Willa whispered, pointing toward a larger building with red banners flying from makeshift poles. Soldiers stood guard at the entrance. A sign had been nailed over the original lettering: Central Military Committee. Louis said, "Let's try the side." They found a service entrance around the back. Two guards stood under a lamp near the entrance, one with a cigarette pinched between his fingers, the other with a rifle resting against the wall beside him. Both looked tired.

One had soot caked on his neck. The other had a bandage around his left hand.

"Stop," the bandaged one said. Louis did not slow until he was two steps away. He gave the man a look he had learned from men who never explained themselves twice.

"Emergency Commission transfer." The guard blinked once. He looked over the group.

"At this hour?"

"Comrade Chairman wants the detainees for immediate questioning." Louis kept his voice flat.

"Step aside." The cigarette guard looked at Gladice. Gladice stared back with bored hostility.

"I don't see any paperwork."

"What's your name?" Louis stepped closer.

"Comrade?" He made the word sharp. The guard hesitated. The other took a drag from his cigarette and shrugged.

"Let them through." The bandaged guard stepped aside. Louis opened the door and waved the others forward.

"Move," he said. He led the group past the guards and through the door. Once inside, Gladice gave a soft laugh.

"Your father would be proud."

"He would be disappointed it took this long." Louis looked around the corridor.

"Now we find Maeve."

"I'd keep prisoners in the basement," Gladice said.

"Less chance of them being heard."

"Agreed," Angelique said.

"Let's go down." They found a stairwell marked with faded paint. The basement was dark and smelled of damp concrete and mold. Dim emergency lights marked a corridor. They moved quietly. From behind a door, they heard a man crying. Another man answered angrily. A slap followed, then another. They passed the door without looking in. Cherish flinched and held Donya's hand tighter. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

A guard sat on a stool outside a steel door farther down. He saw their rifles and started to stand.

"Hey, you can't be down—""Where is Comrade Chairman?" Louis snapped, cutting him off. The guard froze.

"Upstairs. In his office."

"And Comrade Fyres? The one they brought in."

"Upstairs too. Interrogation." Gladice snorted.

"He ordered us to bring detainees for questioning and left without telling us which room." The guard looked at them, confused.

"Room 301. Top floor."

"Thanks for nothing." Gladice raised her rifle and slammed the butt into the guard's temple. He slid off the stool and collapsed beside it.

"Glads," Angelique said.

"He saw us. And we aren't coming back this way." Gladice knelt, took hold of his head, and snapped his neck. Cherish made a small noise, and Donya quickly covered her mouth. Gladice pulled the guard's pistol from its holster and gave it to Angelique.

"You are welcome." Angelique checked the magazine.

"Don't kill anyone you see."

"No promises," Gladice muttered. They returned to the main floor and took the stairs to the top. At the far end of the hall, a calm voice came through a closed door.

"Again." A dull blow followed. Louis stopped. Gladice stopped beside him and looked toward the door. The voice continued, muffled but clear enough to understand.

"Are you conspiring with any foreign power? Speak! Now!" No one answered. Another blow landed inside, followed by a chair scraping hard across the floor. Louis raised one hand, and the others stopped behind him. He and Gladice moved quietly down the corridor, keeping their rifles low. The voice grew clearer as they approached.

"Your actions today endangered the revolution," the voice said.

"You abandoned your post during an enemy attack. You reclassified detainees without authority. Who instructed you to do this?"

"I made the call," Maeve answered from inside. Louis reached the door and tested the handle. It did not move.

"Locked," he mouthed. Angelique and Savannah came up behind them.

"Want me to pick the lock?" Savannah whispered.

"Not this time." Gladice raised her rifle.

"Stand back." She stepped to one side and aimed at the latch beside the frame. She fired twice. The shots struck Louis's ears like blows, and splinters flew from the doorframe. The voices inside stopped. Gladice kicked the door open and moved aside. Louis went through first, rifle raised. Maeve Fyres was tied to a metal chair in the center of the room, her hands bound behind her. One eye was badly swollen, her lower lip was split, and dried blood crossed her mouth.

Her jacket was gone, and her work shirt was damp with sweat and ash. The Chairman stood beside her, turning toward the shattered door, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His red jacket lay folded over the back of a chair. A guard by the wall was reaching for the pistol at his belt.

"Hands where I can see—" Gladice fired before Louis finished the sentence. The shot tore into the guard's chest, and blood spread across his shirt. He fell backward against the filing cabinet. The Chairman spun toward the desk. His hand went for a pistol lying beside the black notebook. Louis fired next. The first round struck the desk edge and sent splinters and paper into the air. The second hit the Chairman below the collarbone. He staggered, one hand still reaching for the pistol, his eyes wide.

Gladice fired again. The round took him high in the throat. He fell beside the desk, knocking over a chair. His boots kicked once against the concrete before he lay still. Savannah ran to Maeve and began cutting the cords with the knife.

"Shit," Maeve whispered through her split lip.

"You idiots." Angelique rushed to the desk and began opening drawers. Willa stayed close to Donya and Cherish, her face pale. Louis moved to the doorway and kept his rifle trained down the corridor.

"Hey." Louis glanced back at the three women.

"You okay?" Donya nodded, her arms around Cherish. Cherish stared at the bodies, her face white. Willa breathed out slowly.

"Yeah," Willa said.

"We're still alive." A voice called from the stairwell at the end of the corridor.

"Comrade Chairman?"

"Everything's in control," Louis called back, trying to pitch his voice like a guard.

"Stay at your post." The voice did not answer. No one appeared in the corridor. Behind him, Angelique touched his arm. He turned. She held his M1911 in one hand and her own knife in the other.

"Found our things," she said. She handed him the pistol. Louis tucked it into the back of his waistband. He looked back at the room. Maeve was trying to stand with Savannah's help. Gladice looked at Maeve.

"Can you walk?" Maeve nodded once. Her voice was rough.

"Yes."

"Good." Gladice pulled the pistol from the dead guard's holster and handed it to Maeve.

"We need to go." Maeve's hand shook as she took the pistol.

"You're all insane."

"You're welcome," Savannah said. She picked up the Chairman's pistol and checked its magazine. Angelique found a flashlight under the desk and clicked it on.

"Stop wasting time. We need a route out."

"Follow me." Maeve straightened and pointed to a narrow service door in the back wall.

"That leads to the service stairs. There's a maintenance tunnel in the basement." Louis and Gladice led with their rifles raised. Angelique followed with the flashlight and her pistol raised. Willa and Donya helped Maeve. Savannah stayed at the rear with Cherish. As they reached the first-floor landing, two soldiers ran up from below with their rifles raised. They saw Louis and Gladice in guard uniforms and hesitated. Gladice fired a short burst. Both soldiers fell backward down the steps.

"Down the stairs!" Louis shouted. They ran down the remaining flights to the basement. Savannah grabbed one rifle and handed the other to Angelique before following. Alarms began to blare from the floors above. Red lights flashed in the stairwell.

"In here!" Maeve pointed to a metal access door at the end of the service corridor. She tried to open it. The handle did not move.

"It's locked!" Angelique knelt beside the dead guard's body.

"I'm on it." She pulled a keyring from the guard's belt and threw it to Maeve.

"Try these." Maeve fumbled with the keys. The alarm grew louder.

"Let's release the prisoners!" Gladice suggested.

"It will create confusion!"

"No!" Maeve shook her head.

"That would get them killed!"

"It's us or them!" Gladice stepped toward the cell block control panel. She pressed a series of buttons on the console. Cell doors slid open along the hall.

"Let the revolution begin."

"Gladice!" Louis shouted. She ignored him.

"Free! Free! Free!" A handful of dazed and injured prisoners stumbled into the corridor. Gladice pointed her rifle at them.

"Go! Upstairs! Now!" They hesitated, then ran for the stairs. More alarms sounded. Footsteps echoed from above.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Maeve turned on her.

"You're getting us all killed!" Savannah stepped forward and grabbed the keyring from Maeve's hands. She found the right key and opened the door.

"Let's go!" They pushed through the door into a dark service stairwell. The door slammed shut behind them. Maeve locked it from inside, then kicked a rusted latch into place. They descended fast. The steps were slick. Maeve stumbled halfway down, and Louis caught her. At the bottom, a low, dark tunnel opened ahead, lined with pipes and old cable trays. The flashlight in Angelique's hand flickered, then steadied. A crash sounded above. The door held. Someone shouted orders on the other side.

"This way." Maeve turned right and hurried along the tunnel. They followed. Maeve led them left, then right, then through a gap left by a missing maintenance panel. The tunnel narrowed until they had to move single file. Condensation beaded on the pipes overhead. Cherish slipped once and caught herself against the wall. Donya pulled her forward. Gladice cursed under her breath when her rifle scraped against the wall.

"Where are we going?" Louis asked.

"Vehicle depot." Maeve's voice came back.

"There are exits to the road. Move." They moved quickly for another five minutes. Then Maeve stopped and pointed toward the wall. Angelique raised the flashlight. A ladder had been bolted to the brick. Maeve climbed. The others followed. At the top, Maeve pushed up a rusted metal cover. Cool night air rushed in, carrying smoke and the smell of engines. From a distance, sirens and shouting carried across the camp.