Authors: Phoenix Williams
He turned the
corner and went down a slight incline to the basement entrance.
Gigantic, thick sheets of metal blocked the doors that vehicles drove
through. The area was devoid of life. The surviving merc-cops must
have made it inside the building safely.
With only a slight
delay for thought, Barney rushed to the man-sized high security door
in the wall. He gazed over the electronic locking mechanism as he
struggled with the keys in his pocket. It was a sturdy, shiny box
that was bolted onto the concrete wall. The buttons on the keypad
glowed with a blue light along the edges.
Barney started to
panic after he pulled the keys out of his pocket. He scanned it in
front of the device and it beeped once, paused, then beeped twice
rapidly. Barney pulled on the handle, but the door would not unlock.
He tried it again, tugging on the door. Fear overtook him as he
screamed, kicking at the door. Bitter tears collected in his eyes.
“It needs a
PIN,” a strong female voice explained from behind him.
Barney turned
around, his breathing heavy. All of the man's cool and calm had been
squeezed out of him and all that remained was an avatar of fear
driven by the concept of his own survival. His eyes were wide.
“Are you a
sergeant?” Rosa asked him, her gun aimed at his head. Two other
Knights stood beside her.
Barney exposed the
keys in his hand.
“Hand them
over,” Rosa instructed him.
Barney looked down
at the collection of metal in his hand. Tears poured out of the man's
scared little eyes. “Please don't kill me,” he pleaded in
a broken voice.
The Latina stood
steady with her hand outstretched, demanding the keys. She said
nothing.
“Please!”
Barney cried. “I'm on the wrong side here!”
“I'm sorry,”
Rosa said, trying to mask the sincerity in her voice.
“It's war,”
one of her lieutenants commented.
Barney's voice ran
at an intense speed. “You're trying to get Graves, right?”
He looked back and forth between the three militants. “I've
been to his office before.”
Rosa shared a look
with the man on her left. Barney could sense her interest. Try though
he might not to, a small smirk bent his lips.
“What're the
fortifications on his office like?” Rosa asked.
“You ever
been in a bank vault?” Barney asked. No laughs were shared, but
understanding achieved. “Look, I might know how to get in.”
“Might?”
Rosa said.
It was true. When
Barney had joined up with the Decree military, he attended a
mandatory orientation for all of the new recruits. It was a decorated
gathering in one of several of the large conference rooms within the
tower. As many men and women that could fit inside the room stood
around with small flutes of wine, socializing. The chatter died down
once a large television had turned on and Leroy Graves' image smiled
out at everyone.
Memory didn't serve
well on the exact words that Graves used, but Barney recalled an
awe-inspiring speech about the importance of change and the Decree
way of life ensuing. He had mentioned the faults of our current
system. The words had been carefully arranged, the inflection
rehearsed to its most effective form. Barney didn't feel one way or
another about it, but he absorbed the impact it had on his peers.
The man who worked
somewhat as the instructor to the recruits led them around the tower
on a tour. As they followed him, he would declare small fun facts
about the building. Most of it was boring and vague, but at that
exact moment, Barney remembered one in particular.
They had gathered
in a compound of cubicle offices, discussing the financial history of
that department. “We deal with some sensitive information here,
some stuff that is
very
confidential,” the guide
started. “A lot of people's jobs can be at risk, not to mention
their personal financial security, if any of this information were to
leak. To prevent that from happening, the security crew has installed
heavy explosives in ten key points on every single floor of the
tower. In the case of an emergency, the personnel will be evacuated
as quickly as possible and then processed at an outside location. The
charges will then be detonated to destroy all sensitive materials.”
Barney only
remembered this because Paul, who stood next to Barney for the
duration of the orientation, leaned in and said, “I don't
believe they evacuate everyone.”
Back in the
present, Barney explained this. Skeptical looks hung on the Knights'
faces, but they listened to his claim.
“It's a tough
door,” Barney continued. “But the wall can be demolished.
Gather enough of those bombs and there's no way that it is still
going to be standing.”
Rosa glanced down
at the ground while she thought.
The guards stared
at the television monitor that displayed the feeds of the outside
security cameras with a scary intensity.
“When the
hell is Graves going to finish up?” one of them exclaimed in
frustration to a coworker. The other man looked sternly in response
to him with eyes worn by worry.
“I'm sorry,
but you know it's true,” the first one continued. “Him
being here is putting us all in danger. This attack is about him.”
“Just shut up
and pay attention,” the second mercenary replied. “Your
whining is putting us in danger.”
The buzzer for the
garage door rang out, a bland loud noise. The men inside tensed up.
Those who were sitting stood up and looked toward the door. Then they
all looked at each other, at a loss for what to do.
“Isn't that
the one that goes off for sergeant clearance?” a third merc-cop
asked to no one in particular.
Another guard
shushed him as the door buzzed again. “Who is it?” that
one asked the guy nearest to the monitor.
The adjacent
mercenary hurried to the screen. He was joined by his three comrades.
Barney was on the television set, standing outside the metal door by
himself. He paced, pounding on the door in between steps. The men
inside recognized the uniform, but all of them hesitated to move. The
first one walked up to the door, but one of his peers held out an arm
to stop him.
“What're you
doing?” the second guard asked.
“We gotta let
him in,” the first one replied. “We can't keep losing
men.”
“He's
expendable. We can't risk opening the door.”
“He's a
sergeant though!”
The buzzer went off
a third time.
“It's true,”
the fourth mercenary started. “Graves wants all of the
sergeants and higher ups inside the garage”
“He does?”
the second one asked.
“He needs
them so we can leave,” the fourth one emphasized.
After a considering
pause, the guard removed his arm and allowed his colleague to
continue. When he came to the door, he pressed the intercom button
and asked which sergeant Barney was.
“Winestock,”
Barney's voice cracked with static through the indoor speaker.
The guard at the
door looked over his shoulder at one of the other mercenaries who
checked the registry on the computer.
“There is a
Winestock,” the researching mercenary said to the others. “He's
been posted close to New York, but he's been unaccounted for. Looks
like it could be him.”
The merc-cop at the
intercom sighed. “Could be,” he muttered before opening
the metal door.
Barney stood
hunched in an uncomfortable posture. He looked up at the mercenary
who opened the door. “I'm so sorry,” Barney said.
The Knights swarmed
in, shooting down each of the guards. Bodies hit the floor in the
blink of an eye. Barney braced himself for the moment, but still
stood in the doorway with shock in his eyes.
“Get in,”
Rosa ordered him.
Barney was pulled
into the garage by Rosa's men. They kept guns on him once he was
inside, peering into the dark room. A light switch was flipped on and
a row of fluorescent tubes illuminated in succession. The garage
floor they were on was an empty concrete room. Only three Decree vans
remained parked in their spots. Metal rigs hung off the walls,
unrecognizable to Barney. Rosa stepped up to him. She put her hand on
her lieutenants' guns, lowering them away from Barney.
“Why're we
letting him go?” the lieutenant asked her in a wounded tone.
“He got us in
here,” Rosa started, her voice calmer than his. “We have
nothing to gain by killing him.”
The lieutenant
looked frustrated. “We have nothing to gain by letting him
live,” he argued.
“Nothing to
lose, either,” Rosa raised her voice.
“When has it
been a problem?” the Knight asked her. “We are tying up
loose ends.”
“Please,”
Barney piped in. His body was flushed and cold, but he hadn't the
energy to panic. Rosa and the other two Knights turned to him and
stared into his eyes. “I can help you get around the building
faster. I can help you gather the bombs.”
Genuine sympathy
pulled down on the skin around Rosa's eyes as she looked over the
mercenary. Barney was unimpressive to behold. She couldn't imagine
being intimidated by the frightened man before her. She felt none of
the anger that she had for the Decree Nation when she looked at him.
The two groups seemed difficult to associate in her mind, their only
similarities being the uniform he wore. Even that didn't fit well.
“What's your
name?” the Latina questioned him.
“Slechta,”
Barney replied. His eyes bounced around on all of the rebels' faces.
They were wide and ablaze with caution. His mouth hung slack with
nerves.
“What do your
friends call you?” she specified.
The mercenary was
surprised. “Barney,” he answered without thinking on it
too long.
Rosa gave a
decisive nod of affirmation to the merc-cop before stepping back
among her followers. “Barney comes with us,” she stated.
The other two Knights shared a look of surprise. The frightened
mercenary winced at their looks. He knew they did not favor him.
“That doesn't
make sense,” the argumentative rebel commented. “That's a
lot of risk. He's like all the other Decree dogs. He needs to be put
down.”
Ferocity burned in
the Latina's irises. Barney himself tightened his muscles in a
bracing manner upon viewing the look of seniority on Rosa's face. Her
thick lips tightened until they turned pale. She looked back and
forth between her two lieutenants' faces.
“Why did you
join the Knights?” Rosa interrogated the man. “To save
people or to kill mercenaries?”
With shame, the man
took a step back to signal that he couldn't argue any longer. Rosa
looked to the other Knight, who made an uncomfortable expression. He
shook his head to signify that he had no objections.
“We're going
to keep an eye on him,” Rosa explained, turning to face Barney
again. “He's not going to lead in front of us, but he'll direct
us where to go. He's going to show us where the explosives are, but
he will NOT touch them.” She walked up close to the mercenary,
who sighed to himself in relief. “You get that? If you try to
dupe us at all, I'm going to shoot you in the legs and leave you next
to the bombs as they go off.”
Barney swallowed
hard, nodding.
“Let's go,”
Rosa ordered.
“We're in the
kitchen now?” one of the Knights asked as they made it up the
stairs.
“Cafeteria,”
Barney replied, his boots squeaking on the polished tile. The large,
cavernous room was empty, the gigantic ceiling lights dead. Not a
soul occupied the gloom. The atmosphere echoed each footstep the four
of them took as if they were mic'd. They moved with haste, following
Barney's verbose directions. He hung back in the middle of the
formation beside Rosa herself. Barney led the Knights through the
sterile cafeteria and toward a backroom hallway.
“When I was
here, they mentioned the explosives, but they never told us where
they were,” Barney began to explain. “However, I remember
being told that they were in key points on every floor. Ten of them.”
“What key
points?” Rosa said, trying to keep up with the mercenary.