“How’s Karen?”
“She’s fine. A strong woman, but as you might guess, worried.”
“Good,” Morgan said. “Now how exactly am I escaping? You make it sound too easy.”
“I’ve set up a program that will go into effect at eight p.m. It will unlock your restraints and set off the bio-alarm, indicating that there’s a dangerous biological leak on this level of the facility. All the doors will automatically lock on this level and the levels directly above and below. The door to this room, however, will remain unlocked as well as the fire exit. The guards will don gas masks and remain stationed so you’ll have to take them out. I’m scheduled to leave at six and will be well gone from here when it happens.”
Morgan stared at Paul. “How are you able to do this without getting caught? You had said all terminals require a passkey.”
Paul stared back at Morgan, his face hardened.
“I can’t,” he said. “They’ll know it was me; there was no other way to get into the system. I can never come back here. I’ve already moved my things to your house, what little I had. This is it. No going back and no more fuck ups.”
“I owe you, Paul. Big time.” Morgan wanted to reach out, but wouldn’t, even if the restraints allowed it. He couldn’t give Paul away. The door to the room opened, and two more scientists entered.
Paul spun around.
“Morning, Paul,” one of the men said. “How is the subject?”
“Weak,” Paul answered, as if annoyed. “Kubek didn’t give him any blood after his session. You’ll have to supply him when General Krueger gives the okay. Otherwise this subject is useless to work with.”
“Damn barbarians,” the scientist said.
Later that evening, ten minutes to eight p.m. Morgan lay awake, waiting anxiously for the restraints to open. He was weak again, not having been given much blood after his most recent session. No matter. Soon, he’d be free, drink some blood—a lot of blood—and then break out of the Murphy compound. The door to the room swung open. Morgan craned his neck to see Kubek entering the room.
“Did my favorite torturer forget something?” Morgan asked.
“Thought I’d have another go at you,” Kubek said, not a hint of joy in his monotone voice. “The General’s growing impatient and wants the truth. If you ask me, I say he just likes torturing you. You’re here, not going anywhere, and obviously working alone. But orders are orders and I love my job.”
The man stood at Morgan’s side, tools of torment being laid out on a large tray: knives of various shapes and sizes; syringes filled with bleach, ammonia, and garlic; scalpels; electric shock devices; saws; and, of course, hammers.
Morgan looked up at the clock: five minutes until eight. He couldn’t believe the man’s timing. Knowing it would do no good, but furious anyway, Morgan told Kubek to get the fuck out.
“Sorry, buddy. I have my orders. I’ve never failed at my job, and although you’re a tough cookie, I will eventually crack you.”
Three minutes to go…
“You’ve taken up enough of the team’s time. The scientists have enough data from you and no longer need you in top form, yet alone alive. I’ve been ordered to get as much out of you before you beg to be killed, then proceed further until your body gives out and you die.”
Two minutes….
“I came here to see what this group of shitheads were up to, that’s all,” Morgan said. “You want to kill me, go ahead.”
Kubek raised one of the large crochet-like needles into the air and sunk it into Morgan’s left leg. Morgan howled in pain, not ready for that one.
One minute…
The final seconds dragged on, with Kubek threatening Morgan’s chance at escape by weakening him further. Another needle sank into Morgan’s chest, stopping a quarter of the way in. Kubek picked up a hammer and pounded it the rest of the way through
“I’m going to teach you the true meaning of pain, of suffering,” Kubek began as he picked up another spike. As he readied to strike, Morgan’s restraints unlocked and popped open. The man’s face contorted into a confused look, as if he didn’t understand what he was witnessing.
Morgan’s right arm shot up, grabbing Kubek’s hand that was holding the needle, and drove the implement into the man’s stomach. Kubek’s body buckled, a breath of expelled air coming from his mouth.
Morgan sat up, pain exploding in his chest. He grabbed Kubek’s throat and ripped it open. Kubek staggered backward, eyes wide with disbelief, stumbling into the tray of torture implements and then to the cold tiled floor.
Morgan yanked the needle out of his chest. Then he reached down and did the same with its twin. Weakened, only his anger fueling him, Morgan made his way over to the fridge, opened the door, and sank his teeth into a bag of vamp blood. He emptied two more in quick order and felt reborn, his wounds all but healed. If only it was daylight outside.
He ran toward the door and worked it open. The loud chirping sound of the alarm filled his ears, and the flashing of emergency lights bathed everything in red.
The hallway was clear except for two guards at the end, scrambling with their biohazard masks. Morgan grinned and raced forward, lightning-quick.
One of the guards attempted to raise his M-5 machine gun. Morgan collided with the soldier, pinning the man’s weapon against his body. With his right arm, Morgan punched a hole into the man’s chest, breaking through the breast bone and destroying the heart, before cracking the spine. The soldier died instantly.
A sharp pain exploded in his jaw as the other guard swung the butt of his weapon. Morgan went with the blow, his body twisting low. Coming back around, he upper cut the man, connecting with the guard’s chin and snapping the man’s head back so fast that his vertebrae shattered. Unable to move, the guard fell to the floor next to his comrade, convulsing. Morgan raised his foot and stomped on the man’s neck, killing him.
He raced through the fire door and up the flights of stairs until he reached the parking level. A guard manned the other side, visible through the small square of window glass. Morgan rammed it with his shoulder, full force. The door slammed into the unknowing guard, sending him unconscious to the parking garage floor.
Morgan wondered where the other guard was. Paul had said there’d be two. He heard voices from below, guards were coming. Someone must have seen him during his escape, called the control room, and now more soldiers were on his tail.
Not waiting for specifics, Morgan sprang out of the stairwell and into the parking garage. Gunshots rang out from behind, each followed by a stinging sensation in his back. He spun around and ducked low, avoiding the next round of bullets.
Morgan charged the soldier and ripped out his throat. He grabbed the M-5 and fired shots at the doorway and the direction of other footsteps and voices. Seeing no one emerge or firing back, he dashed for the garage’s exit. Gunshots sounded, and a moment later he felt the bullets bite as they sunk into his flesh.
The original guard he’d knocked down was up again and firing at him. Taking more bullets, Morgan pointed his gun and returned fire. The bullets from his gun hit their mark, the man’s body jolting from the impact, but the guard continued firing at him. The bastard was outfitted in body armor. Morgan drew closer, running in a zig-zag pattern while firing. The man’s unprotected face exploded after one of Morgan’s shots hit its target.
With still a few hundred feet to cover before reaching the barn door, then having to open it, Morgan heard gunfire from his left. Turning, he saw three more soldiers with M-5s charging in his direction. Dodging to his right, he seized the faceless body and held it before him like a shield.
Multiple bullets riddled the dead man’s corpse. Morgan returned fire and managed to take down one of the new arrivals, but two more joined the fray. There might be others behind them, waiting to exit the stairwell. Morgan was strong, almost invincible to a point, but even with the amount of blood he’d drank, eventually the sheer number of men and their weapons would kill him. Realizing he needed to do something, he charged for the stairwell, holding the bullet-riddled corpse out in front of him.
A few more bullets managed to hit him in the legs, the rest of his body hidden well behind the large soldier, as he reached the men. As guns clicked empty, soldiers tried changing positions, but Morgan dove onto them. He hurled the dead body into the throng of soldiers, disrupting their grouping and making it impossible for them to do anything but protect themselves.
Inside the small enclosure at the top of the stairs, Morgan clawed and ripped into flesh, tearing off limbs, jaws, and gouging eyes. At such close range, the Murphy soldiers soon ceased firing.
Covered in blood, Morgan raced through the garage and toward the exit. The main door trundled open. Two guards from outside bent low and swept the interior with their rifles. Morgan was on them instantly, twisting one’s neck around until it popped. He then ripped it off and tossed it hard at the other man. The soldier went down. Morgan was on him in a second, crushing his throat and killing him.
He raced outside to a rousing chorus of gunfire. Bullets stung at his flesh. Morgan turned toward the nearest of the guard towers and scaled the ladder, three rungs at a time. He burst through the trap door with ease, sending the guard who had been standing on it over the side and crashing to the ground below.
The fence surrounding the perimeter was easily ten feet away and electrically charged. Bracing himself, he stood on the tower’s ledge and launched himself forward, almost clearing the fence. His left foot brushed the electrified razor wire. His body ignited in pain, his insides feeling as if they were on fire. He tumbled to the ground, rolling into the forest. Bullets whizzed past him, destroying trees, leaves, and spitting up dirt. He managed to get to his feet, ignoring the pain radiating throughout his body, and took off running.
Chapter 52
Karen and Paul waited inside the warehouse, each taking turns looking from the doorway, eagerly awaiting any sign of Morgan’s return.
When inside, Karen paced back and forth, not knowing what else to do. She stared at the pile of boxes in the corner, Paul’s things. He’d had to pack last minute, not able to take much, leaving most of his material possessions behind. He could not risk taking things from the house over time for fear someone from The Murphy Unit might take notice. Karen’s heart sank. She felt horrible for Paul— having to leave his life behind, as she had.
“Anything?” she asked.
Paul shook his head. “He’ll be here.”
“It’s ten o’clock, two hours after the time your program should’ve activated.”
“He’s on foot and most likely encountered some form of resistance on his way out. But nothing he can’t handle. They wouldn’t have been prepared for his escape.”
Karen brushed past Paul, wanting fresh air. She inhaled deeply and gazed up at the night sky, taking in the enormity of the universe. A sound from up on the hill, in the thick bush, startled her. Something was rustling about. Then the silhouette of a figure appeared, before tumbling down the slope.
“Paul,” Karen yelled. “Get out here.”
He was at her side in what seemed to be an instant, as if he had teleported to the position. Together they dragged Morgan inside, the fluorescent lights revealing how bloodied up his body was.
“He’s a mess,” Karen said, although she’d seen him in much worse condition.
Morgan’s clothes were riddled with tiny holes, blood seeping from them. Karen began to tear up without realizing it, until Paul told her to watch herself. She backed up, quickly wiping the tears away with her shirt sleeve.
“I figured this might happen,” he said, walking away from Morgan to his pile of items. A briefcase lay by itself. Paul grabbed it and removed a large clear baggy filled with crimson fluid.
“You brought vampire blood?” Karen asked, her voice shining with hope.
“Of course, I’m always prepared.”
Morgan stirred. “What’s going on? Karen?”
“Yes, it’s me,” she answered, finding it almost impossible not to cry. “Me and Paul are here. You made it back to us.”
Paul held the bag over Morgan’s face, lowering it to his mouth. “Bite into the bag and drink, my friend.”
Morgan opened his mouth, closing it around the bag, his fangs easily piercing the plastic. Karen watched as the muscles in his throat worked, his Adam’s apple moving up and down. He was weak, his drinking slow at first, but as the bag’s contents diminished, she saw his form renewing itself, as if he was touched by magic. He reached up, wrapping his hands around the bag, and gulped the blood.
“Another,” he said, after sucking every drop of blood from the bag. Paul took another one out and handed it to Morgan. Three bags later, and Morgan was sitting up, his wounds healed. “I’m going to need new clothes,” he said, fingering a bullet hole in his pants.
Morgan stood. Karen wrapped her arms around him.
“Welcome home.”
***
Later that night, Morgan shared the details of his escape.
“We make quite a team,” Paul said.
“What about you guys?” Morgan asked. “Find out anything?”
Karen and Paul told their tale.
“So we have a day and a half to ready ourselves,” Morgan said. “Until then, I need you two to sit tight. We have to be careful now, more than ever.”
“We stay at your place tonight, Morgan,” she said. “Rest up, eat, and drink. Then tomorrow we prepare.”
“Actually,” Morgan said. “I’ll need to begin preparing tonight.”
Chapter 53
The following day was a busy one for Morgan. He snuck into the Hendrickson Fueling Company, stealing a uniform that would fit Karen.
Next, one of Elise’s contacts resulted in the prize: a small explosive device that was easily concealable, didn’t look like a bomb, and was powerful enough to incinerate a single human body or blow the lid off a sealed metal container. Using a minute amount of Semtex and a cell phone, the bomb was rigged to detonate as soon as the phone rang.