Authors: Stuart Keane
FORTY-ONE
As darkness descended, Rupert ducked behind the desk before him. The light from the vast TV screen was more than enough to illuminate the room. The tablet computer was still in his hand. He guessed he had maybe five minutes before the guards would be on him.
Shit.
You’re trapped
, he thought.
Rupert looked down at the tablet. He swiped the image of the guards with his finger. They were still outside the lift, each of them carrying a machine gun. They moved smoothly, silently, in formation, as if they were following protocol. Rupert hoped they would check each door in turn. It would buy him some time, several minutes at the most. He noticed one guard taking the lead, swiping the first door. The other two remained behind him. Which meant that they only had one keycard. Excellent.
Five doors left.
He moved the image to the left and noticed the two women. He enlarged the film strip. The pair were standing in what looked like a disused railway yard. The image was grainy, as if the camera was low quality, which struck Rupert as odd. Why was this camera of a lesser quality than the hundreds of others?
Bringing his thoughts back to his own predicament, he realised that he was trapped and knew that he wasn’t getting out of there alive. Three versus one, and they had machine guns. It was a death sentence. Rupert knew the best he could hope to achieve was to try and help the other prisoners. And he knew he had to act fast.
Four doors left.
Rupert placed two fingers on the tablet and used them to enlarge the picture of the two women. They seemed to be examining a keypad. The picture was still grainy. Rupert noticed a small arrow on the base of the image. He tapped it and the camera moved. A menu came up. The camera’s movement came to a stop. As it did, the two women looked up at it. The more slender of the two stepped forward and waved. Rupert read the menu. He had three options: ALERT, SHUT DOWN, UNLOCK. He didn’t know what they meant. He glanced at the guards on the other screen.
Three doors left.
Rupert gave a wave at the tablet’s screen, then felt a wave of embarrassment, realising that they couldn’t see him. He rubbed his lips with the back of his hand, and realised how much he was sweating. ALERT sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. He realised the prompts pertained to the image before him, not to the overall images on the TV behind him. He hit SHUT DOWN. Nothing happened. Then the image before him darkened a little. SHUT DOWN was replaced by INITIATE. Realising his error, Rupert hit INITIATE again and the image brightened a little.
Two doors left.
Rupert placed the tablet on the floor beside him. He laid down his briefcase and opened it, pulling out the pistol. He pushed the case aside, knowing he wouldn’t be needing it anymore. It was almost go time.
Returning to the tablet, he could see that the two women were pointing to the keypad frantically. The chunky woman was staring at something off camera. Rupert suddenly realised what he had to do.
The arched doorway opened. Rupert heard two sets of footsteps coming into the room.
There was one door left though, surely?
He realised his error. Of course, with only one door remaining, the other men would be able to follow their leader without waiting for the order.
Fuck!
The table above Rupert exploded in a hail of gunfire. Glass smashed, plastic shredded, paper flew everywhere. The noise in the room was deafening as the debris rained down on him. The monitor toppled over and hung from its cord before crashing to the floor. The keyboard was propelled into the wall and shattered into pieces. The frame bent and the table above collapsed inwards, as glass rained down on him
Then all was quiet.
Rupert readied his pistol. The tablet was below him. He realised a stream of blood was running down his forehead. A shard of flying glass had cut him. He brushed the blood away with his hand, mixing it with the sweat. As he held his breath he saw the shadows of the guards approaching where he was hiding.
“We have you surrounded,” came the voice. “You can’t escape. Give up now and we will not kill you.”
The words were spoken with precision and zero emotion: cold and clinical. Rupert knew they were lying. If he gave himself up, he would be dead within minutes. Game time.
Rupert reached into his briefcase and grabbed the screwdriver. He tossed it to the left, beyond the desk. It bounced off the TV with a loud CLANG. The guards turned towards it, moving away from the desk. Rupert closed his eyes, said a small prayer, and stood up.
If you get out of here,
he thought,
you owe God a favour.
He shot the closest guard in the back. The bullet smashed into his spine, spraying a red mist into the air and exited on the other side, erupting in a spray of blood and muscle. He fired two more times:
PHUP, PHUP!
The body hit the floor with a thud.
Rupert missed the second guard, who was hiding behind a pillar. The bullet embedded into the plaster. There was a burst of return fire, but Rupert kept them at bay with more shots, standing behind a pillar for cover. The room went silent for a moment.
“Give it up, man, you ain’t gettin’ outta here!”
“Fuck you,” Rupert replied.
“Ha, we got ourselves a proper Wyatt Earp, have we?”
Rupert said nothing.
He stepped out of cover. As he did, the guard did the same thing and for a second, they were looking directly at one another. The moment’s impasse seemed to go on for more than the split second it actually did.
Rupert fired first. The bullet hit the guard in the leg and he collapsed back against the wall, screaming in pain. He dropped his gun and crawled back to cover. Rupert lowered his weapon and approached the guard.
Unfortunately he didn’t see the door in the archway opening again.
Didn’t see the third guard step through.
When he did, it was too late.
He heard gunfire.
The burst of automatic gunfire shredded Rupert’s torso and tore the rest of his body to pieces. Rupert saw his own flesh and blood blasted into the air right before his eyes. He dropped the pistol, fell back against the desk and collapsed. He landed hard on the ground, the very place he had been positioned moments before. He heard glass crunch under his back. The gunfire stopped.
Blood frothed from his mouth and nose, and he was paralysed by a tidal wave of pain. Rupert felt his eyelids closing. Was aware of a blue light before him. His hand reached out for it.
But he was unable to do anything as his body convulsed. His eyes closed completely.
Rupert saw his mother was standing before him. Her arms were open. A white light enticed him and Rupert felt a warmth run through his body, relief filling his very soul. Rupert felt tears in his eyes as they closed for the final time.
As his hand fell, his fingers glanced across the tablet’s screen. His dying movement had tapped on UNLOCK.
Rupert Shaw, a hero and a life saver, died before the guard stepped over to his body.
***
The code just wouldn’t come to Kathryn.
Her birth date had been wrong. She had tried her usual password from work, which also hadn’t worked. She only had one attempt left. Seconds after entering the second code, she cursed herself. Why would it be that code? After asking the question, she cursed again. It could be anything. If The Game had taught her anything, it was that the organisers knew Kathryn better than she knew herself. Which enhanced the possibilities.
A needle in a haystack was being generous.
There were literally endless possibilities.
“Fuck.”
Hannah said nothing. She stood off to Kathryn’s left with her arms folded. Kathryn felt sweat trickling down her neck. The pressure was truly on. Several times she had lifted her hand to type in a code and then resisted the urge. Realising they would die if she got it wrong, racked her with indecision, so that as soon as she thought of something, she instantly rejected it. She started tapping her teeth again, a vain attempt to help her to think.
Which is when she saw the camera move.
Hannah spotted it a fraction of a second before she did. She tapped Kathryn on the shoulder and pointed at it. Kathryn stepped away from the keypad and waved. “Hello?
Hello?
” she called out.
The camera stared back at her. It didn’t move. The sheer stillness infuriated Kathryn. She turned to Hannah. “Who the fuck is watching us? The Chronicle isn’t in charge anymore.”
“I’m not sure. Iain said no one would replace the Chronicles, but who knows? I never noticed that camera before. Spooky, huh?” Kathryn nodded. She ran her hands through her hair.
Suddenly an alarm started chirping. It was faint at first, almost imperceptible. Hannah spun and glared at the doorway they had emerged from. She closed her eyes and started humming along, following the rhythm of the noise. Her eyes then snapped open, realisation and fear on her face.
“Kathryn, we have to go! That alarm, that’s the reset button. Someone has shut off the power. Which means we'll be surrounded by guards in about ten minutes.”
Kathryn’s head dropped downwards, wondering if things could get any worse. She turned back to the keypad. Looking up at the camera, she pointed at it once, hoping that whoever was watching got the hint. She took a breath and closed her eyes. She tried to calm herself. Hannah’s eyes were glued to the doorway.
“Hurry, Kathryn!”
“Shhh. Let me think.”
They heard a commotion. The sound echoing down the tunnels. They could hear people talking. Hannah gulped, realising the guards must have found one of their own, injured and unconscious. It would only be a matter of time before they found them. Suddenly, the alarm stopped and all was quiet.
Then the commotion picked up.
Hannah heard the clattering of footsteps. Kathryn opened her eyes and heard it too. She looked at the camera again, frantically pointed at the keypad and shrugged at the camera, a desperate appeal for help. She couldn’t think of what else to do.
The footsteps were getting louder.
And closer.
“C’mon, Kathryn!” snapped Hannah. “We’re running out of time!”
Kathryn closed her eyes. She ran a series of numbers through her head. Every one that came to her was doubted instantly. The sweat was soaking her back now, the cold chill making her tremble. Hannah moved back so that she was beside her.
Kathryn opened her eyes.
She knew the code!
Well, she was about eighty per cent sure she knew it. Aware of the implications of a third incorrect entry, she still hesitated.
The footsteps grew louder, as if they were now walking down a street. Hannah strained to listen. “Shit! They must be outside the grate. Did I close it?”
Kathryn nodded. “I did, we have a few minutes. I hope.”
“Have you thought of the code?”
“Maybe. At least I’m about eighty per cent—”
“—That’s not good enough! Eighty per cent is dog-shit! Got any other ideas?” Hannah shouted at her.
Kathryn considered Hannah with indecision. If she was wrong, an innocent woman would lose her life. “I think I have it. But if it’s wrong, I want to tell you that getting you killed wasn’t on my agenda tonight – even if you did hit me with a baseball bat.”
“If you get us out of here alive, you can have your revenge. I will even sign the bat before you bash my face in.”
“Deal.” There was a short silence. After a moment, Kathryn took the decision. “If this doesn’t work, I’m sorry.”
A tear ran down Hannah’s face. Kathryn tapped in the code: 8762. She checked the number that came up on the screen three times.
The grate crashed open. They heard subdued voices. Footsteps echoed along the tunnel. Hannah guessed there were four of them. They had a minute, two minutes tops.
Kathryn pushed ENTER.
ACCESS DENIED.
Kathryn’s heart dropped. Her blood chilled. She stepped back, felt her body grow limp. Hannah looked at her and then at the keypad. Her eyes widened and then the tears came faster.
Kathryn stuck an arm out and gripped Hannah’s shoulder. Hannah grabbed her hand for a second. The footsteps grew louder. One more tunnel and the guards would be upon them. Kathryn refused to turn around to face them, didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.
CLUNK.
The keypad turned green. The word UNLOCKED flashed up on the screen.
The door started to rumble and then slid to the right, opening. The two women were transfixed at the sight.
And then the train carriage door was open. A second door on the opposite of the carriage was open too. Beyond it stood a clear, plastic tunnel that curved off to the right, while the carriage itself was empty. Kathryn stepped forward. Hannah turned around.
The footsteps were now coming from the final tunnel. Within seconds, their pursuers would see the two women. Hannah shoved Kathryn through the door. In one jump, Kathryn stood aboard the train, pulling Hannah up beside her. As they scrabbled onto the carriage, three soldiers burst through the door. They were armed with batons, no guns. They took a second to comprehend the sight before them.