Ballistic: Icarus Series, Book Two Page 9

  “We look like freaking mental patients in this crap,” Bo whispered tugging at his over-sized scrub top. “And why are these guys all wearing masks. They think we have the swine flu or something?”

  “Less talking, more walking, grays,” another soldier said palming the weapon at his hip.

  From there, each of them had their blood drawn and a metal cuff snapped around their wrist. The metal, which was engraved with an eight-digit string of numbers and letters, was uncomfortably tight against his skin. Unfortunately, according to the man who had clamped it in place after he registered, they were also not removable.

  “What is this for, anyway?” Lucas had asked the man at the next station. “It’s hurting my arm.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” The soldier handed Lucas his bag of toiletries and shoved him down the line. “Next!”

  There were at least a couple of hundred people at the refugee camp, some of whom had been brought in from as far away as Wisconsin and Iowa. Lucas and his foster siblings represented three of the seven children who currently resided at Camp Seco. The rest of the refugees they had seen at processing had been adults, but none, Lucas suddenly realized, had been particularly old.

  Had the elderly lost their lives during Icarus? Was that even possible, or had the soldiers simply left them behind to fend for themselves? Lucas shuttered at the thought and pressed on.

  Jazz caught up and stayed close at his heel. Bo kept watch behind them to make sure no one had followed. He needn’t have worried. As was so often the case with children, their presence had gone completely unnoticed. The kids cleared the corridor that housed the bunkrooms and found themselves at the entrance to the main lobby.

  Lucas held a finger to his lips and poked his head around the corner. Three soldiers stood around a folding table behind the large laminated counter top area that had once been the receptionist desk. They were all so busy posturing and complaining that none of them noticed when the children crept past them along the front of the desk. As soon as their backs were turned, the kids crept quickly across the open space and into the corridor that led to the ladies locker room.

  “If this keeps up, we are going to need more supplies,” the youngest soldier said, and Lucas stopped in his tracks.

  “What we need is fewer diseased parasites,” groaned another, as he crept to back to the end of the hall. “They grays have us outnumbered two to one, now.”

  “What are you doing?” Bo hissed at Lucas.

  “Getting answers,” Lucas pressed his finger to his lips then crouched down to listen.

  “Jesus, Deckland,” the young man narrowed his eyes. “Those are people in there.”

  “It’s not that simple anymore, Faber,” Deckland shook his head. “You know as well as I do that anyone outside the clean zone is carrying the virus. I, for one, am not interested in becoming one of those freaks. I doubt Weaver does either.”

  “Lower your voices,” a third man grunted, rubbing his hand down his tired face. “Look, Faber, I don’t like Deckland’s attitude any more than you do, but he has a point. Seco’s ambulatory operating capacity was never meant to exceed seventy-five. We bypassed that two trucks ago and we are still waiting on Delta Crew to dock in.”

  “What about the I.C.T, Sir?” Deckland added. “What’s the latest?”

  “Nothing good,” the tired man sighed. “They were sweeping the asset site fifty clicks out when they ran into some hostiles. Unfortunately, Corporal Metz had already taken it upon himself to redeploy the bulk of his unit to the secondary site, so he was shorthanded and unprepared for the attack.”

  “Damn,” Deckland whistled and shook his head.

  “Did they make it out all right, Sir?” Faber asked.

  “For the most part,” Weaver nodded, “but they blew the charges at MCH, destroying most of the doc’s samples and equipment. Plus, now we are down a deuce, a generator, and half of the grays escaped. As if the whole mission wasn’t enough of a soup-sandwich already, the hostiles burned James’ house to the ground. Most, if not all, of our actionable intel went with it.”

  “I knew it,” Deckland muttered. “I don’t care if Metz is his bastard son, Vladinov should have known better than to send that arrogant little grunt on a mission like this.”

  “Discretion, gentlemen.” An older woman in blue scrubs and a white mask appeared through the door behind them, glaring at them over the top of a stack of files.

  “Ma’am,” Weaver squared his shoulders. “We didn’t hear you coming.”

  “Funny, because I could hear you idiots grumbling from all the way across the tunnel and halfway into med wing.” She pulled her mask down under her chin and scowled at the men.

  “Our apologies,” Weaver muttered.

  “I only have enough chem-swabs to test seven more grays, and it is vital that I do so selectively,” the doctor said. “Finding a viable candidate takes precedence over all other matters. As for the rest of the grays, we’ll have to wait for the retinal scanners to confirm infection. Vladinov assures me they will be here in less than seventy-two hours. Once they arrive, I will do my final evaluation of the residents and your population concerns will be moot.”

  “Are we shipping them off on the train, then, Doctor?” Deckland asked.

  “Some of them, yes,” the woman nodded. “The Adaptive pairs will be taken to Devil’s Lake for assessment and reconditioning. The strongest Drafts and most valuable Drones will be shipped north to St. Cloud on the old freight railway.”

  “And what about the others?” Faber asked.

  “They will be sent to extraction.” The woman waved her hand dismissively.

  “Is that absolutely necessary, ma’am?” Faber shifted his weight nervously. “Perhaps, there is another way.”

  “I’m sorry, Faber, is it?” The doctor narrowed her eyes at the soldier’s tag and clutched the files to her chest. “Are you questioning your orders?”

  “No, ma’am,” Faber lowered his gaze. “It’s just…this whole extraction thing doesn’t feel right.”

  “Your feelings are irrelevant, soldier,” said the woman in blue scrubs. “In case you hadn’t noticed, our resources are quite limited. What remains must be reserved for those individuals capable of contributing to our survival. Thus far, you have been deemed capable, but things can change quickly in such a volatile situation.”

  The doctor crossed her arms and raised a brow at him. It was subtle, but even Lucas picked up on her threat. Faber opened his mouth to respond. A chirp cut him short. It came from the strange-looking radio that sat between them on the folding table.

  “Blackstar-three, Blackstar-three, this is Gatekeeper Alpha. Do you copy? Over.” Static.

  Weaver snatched the radio up and spoke. “Acknowledged, Gatekeeper Alpha. This is Blackstar-three. What is your sit-rep? Over.”

  “Copy, Blackstar-three. ICT is confirmed, five clicks west, inbound at G1. Car—”

  The radio chirped and fuzzed, cutting out the last of the message. Lucas lowered himself to the floor and inched out into the foyer.

  “Get back,” Bo hissed and grabbed onto the boy’s ankle. “They’ll see you.”

  “Say again, Gatekeeper Alpha. You’re at a two of five, over.” Weaver held the radio close to his ear.

  “Copy th—ack…three.” The radio crackled and hummed as the settings were being adjusted. “Blackstar-three, how do you read?”

  “That’s a five, Gatekeeper,” Weaver said. “Repeat last transmission, over.”

  “Copy that, Blackstar-three, repeating last.” Chirp-hiss. “ICT is five clicks west, inbound at G1, with Gamma cargo on board.”

  “Oh, excellent!” The doctor sneered and pointed at the radio. “Male or female? Ask him.”

  “Roger that last, Gatekeeper,” Weaver said, his jaw clenched. “Requesting clarification. Please confirm if cargo is male or female, over.”

  “Copy, Blackstar-three. Stand by,” the voice on the other end said. Weaver dropped his chin and listened th
rough the static until the voice returned. “Cargo is male, over.”

  “Finally,” the woman squared her shoulders proudly.

  “Copy that, Gatekeeper,” Weaver said. “Deliver cargo to Med-Bay one upon arrival. Blackstar three, out.”

  “Roger, Wilco. Out.” The radio chirped as Weaver set it onto the table.

  “You two,” the doctor held thick, white masks out to Weaver and Deckland. “Put these on and come with me, please. You, with the puppy-dog eyes, I’d suggest you find something productive to do with your time, or I’ll have your status revoked in exchange for a one-way ticket on the train.”

  The woman in the blue scrubs spun away and stormed off with the soldiers at her heels, effectively eliminating any chances Lucas had of obtaining more information. He nodded to Bo, who dragged him back into the corridor by his foot. Once out of sight, the kids sprinted to the locker room and ducked inside.

  “That was awesome,” Jazz whispered stifling a giggle as the locker room door closed softly behind them. “The clones didn’t even see us.”

  “See? I told you this would be fun.” Lucas forced a smile, tussling Jazz’s hair the way Liv used to do to his. Her braids swung back and forth, and she swatted at his hand. “Go ahead and have a look around, Jazzy. See if you can find any treasures…but be very quiet.”

  “Okay,” Jazz whispered holding a finger to her lips. She smiled broadly, shoved Chewy under her arm, and scampered off into the depths of the locker room to explore.

  “Okay, this is bad,” Lucas muttered quietly as he turned to Bo. “There is something seriously off about this place.”

  “Gee, you think?” Bo’s brow furrowed and he crossed his arms over his chest. “I knew something was wonky when they slapped on these tracking bracelets, and now this?”

  “Is that what these things are?” Lucas scratched at the metal cuff. It pinched at his skin every time he moved. “I asked a bunch of times, but no one would answer me.”

  “No surprise there,” Bo said rolling his eyes.

  “Something big is going down, Bo, and soon,” Lucas said. “We have to get out of here.”

  “I’m with you, brother,” Bo said banging his tracker against the corner of the sink. It beeped once and lit up red. The boys froze in place, staring down at the small light glowing inside a ridge that ran the length of Bo’s bracelet. After a few tense moments, the light turned green, then blue, and once again went dark.

  “First, we gotta figure out the deal with these stupid bracelets.” Bo finally exhaled, staring down at the cuff on his wrist. “There has to be a way to get them off, or at least deactivate them.”

  “That’s going to be tough considering no one give us any information,” Lucas shook his head.

  “If they won’t give, we’ll have to take,” Bo shrugged. “What do you think, Skywalker? Should we go possum or secret agent?”

  “Why choose?” Lucas smirked and held out his fist.

  “I like the way you think.” Bo grinned and pressed their knuckles together.

  “I want to fist-bump, too,” Jazz said as she came skipping over.

  “Hey, Jazz,” Lucas said, lightly bumping her clenched fingers. “Did you find any treasures?”

  “Even better,” Jazz squealed. Excitement lit up her face. “You guys gotta come see!”

  “Lead the way, Captain,” Lucas whispered pressing his finger to his lips.

  Jazz put her hands over her mouth and giggled softly. “Okay, Skywalker.”

  She grabbed Lucas’s hand. Bo grabbed the back of his shirt, and the three of them tiptoed off into the darkness. Their feet shuffled lightly against the sleek tiles as they moved. Soon enough, they rounded the end of a long line of metal lockers where they emerged into a large shower stall.

  “Where the heck are we going?” Bo said, groaning when his toe banged against something hard on the floor. “Ow.”

  “This way,” Jazz whispered, pulling them toward the back corner.

  “I don’t see anything,” Bo whispered.

  “Almost there, aha!” Jazz giggled and pulled her hand free. “Here it is…the passage.”

  Plastic rustled in the dark, and a moment later, the room was illuminated in an odd yellow glow. Jazz stood there, smiling as she struggled to hold back the thick gray tarp that had been covering the gaping hole the middle of the shower wall. A large plastic chute jutted out from the hole and angled sharply downward.

  “Hey, I know what that is,” Bo said cocking his head to the side. ”It’s one of those construction chute things. They must have been doing some work on the place.”

  “Isn’t it awesome?” Jazz beamed proudly.

  She nearly buckled under the weight of the plastic. Bo rushed to her side and gathered the tarp in his arms. Lucas ran to the mouth of the tunnel and peeked inside.

  After so many days spent in the dark, the bright, buttery color hurt his eyes. He blinked away the tears that sprang to his lashes and leaned further into the chute, excited by the prospect of a future escape. The good news was it looked like the tunnel extended all the way to the ground. The bad news; the whole thing was a twisted maze of broken boards, jagged chunks of concrete, and spears of rusted rebar.

  “Looks kind of dangerous, doesn’t it?” Bo scowled. “How are we supposed to get out this way without dying?”

  “This passage isn’t for us, sillies,” Jazz interrupted, shaking her head at the boys. “It is a warrior’s quest.”

  Chapter 10

  Apologies

  “She’s got the right idea, Liv,” Riley said, nodding toward the dog.

  Bella had been pacing in front of the vault door for the last ten minutes. At first, I thought maybe she needed to go to the bathroom, but there was something restless and almost happy in her step. Bella looked over at me and yipped softly then rose onto her back legs and put her front paw on the door.

  “We’ll get out of here as soon as we can, Ry,” I said as I climbed to my feet and headed toward the door.

  “It’s getting hard to breathe,” Riley said her voice cracking.

  “Your respiration is fine. The shortness of breath you are experiencing is just a psychosomatic side effect of your claustrophobia,” Eli said matter-of-factly and pointed his flashlight up toward the ceiling. “This vault has been modified and vented, so you were never at a risk of hypoxia.”

  “Really?” I glared at him.

  “What?” Eli shrugged and went back to stuffing the few remaining medical supplies back into his pack.

  “Can you at least try to be a human being?” I asked, shaking my head. “You seriously have the worst bedside manner of any doctor, ever.”

  “Maybe,” he shrugged, “but I’m smart enough that it doesn’t matter.”

  “And modest,” I said. “Don’t forget modest.”

  I leaned into the door and listened, but the only thing I could hear was the sound of my own breath against the metal and my friends moving about behind me. Bella wagged her tail anxiously against my leg and continued to sniff at the seam around the door. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “Obviously,” Eli muttered as he zipped his pack.

  “Let me try,” Zander leaned against the vault door. He had been much calmer since he woke up from his brief nap but he definitely still seemed shaken. “Liv’s right. It’s quiet.”

  “That’s six inches of solid steel,” Eli said throwing his hands in the air. “Of course it’s quiet. It’s been quiet for the last four hours.”

  “What are ya talkin’ about,” Ty’s brow furrowed. “Them damn things have been chatterin’ like an army of angry squirrels since we shut that door. All that bitin’ and the scratchin’ and carryin’ on, it’s a wonder I got any sleep at all. They’re right, y’all, it’s dead quiet out there now.”

  “You’re serious.” Eli said cocked his head at Ty. “Isn’t that interesting?”

  “Not now, Eli,” I glared at him then turned to Ty. “How long ago did the noise stop, Ty?”

 
“Ten, maybe fifteen minutes, I’d say,” Ty looked nervous. “Wait, y’all really couldn’t hear none of that?”

  “Uh-uh,” Christa said as she tightened her ponytail then wrapped herself around Ty’s arm. “If anything, it was too quiet.”

  “Jake?” Ty questioned. Jake raised a brow and shook his head. Ty rubbed the back of his neck and muttered under his breath. “Aww, hell.”

  “I’m gonna check it out,” Zander said. “Ty, come and help me with this door. The rest of you get back and be ready, just in case.”

  “Come on,” I said grabbing Christa by the arm.

  While the rest of us shuffled to the back of the vault, Zander and Ty wrestled to push the heavy metal door open. They cracked it a few inches and listened, then pushed it open far enough for Zander to wedge his blackened arm through the gap. When he pulled his arm back in, and no creatures hung from it, I finally released the breath I had been holding and rushed toward him.

  “All clear,” Zander said, wiggling his fingers and smiling at me for the first time in hours. I launched myself at him and wrapped my arms around his neck. He returned my embrace and held me tight against his chest. “Hey, easy, Liv. I’m okay.”

  “Zander, I thought—,” I mumbled against him unable to put into words the relief I felt at his touch.

  “I’m sorry I pushed you away,” he whispered as the group filed past us and climbed through the vault door. “It was just too much. When the scritters came, it was like…I was just—”

  “Shut up,” I said, pressing my lips to his and sinking into his embrace.

  “Break it up, you two,” Falisha said poking her head back in. “You are going to want to see this.”

  “Right behind you,” I said reluctantly pulling away. I held Zander’s hand as I stepped over the lower lip of the vault door and out into the Renaissance Room.

  “Whoa,” Zander said.

  “Jesus,” I muttered staring down at the shredded remains of the vinyl tiles.

  The scritters had scratched the floor bare down to the concrete. Slivered vinyl littered the room like piles of pencil shavings dumped from a sharpener. The cement had long thin trench marks etched in it from thousands of tiny, razor sharp claws. Nearly all of the black paint on the vault door had been scratched off. Raw steel had been hiding beneath years of cosmetic repairs.