The Red Phoenix 12: Strength Comes in Numbers (37 page)

“Will you just leave?” he whispered in frustration, glaring at the helicopter, concealing himself.

The gunman on the helicopter kept his aim at the cement structure below, with his finger over the trigger, still scanning the area, watching for anything to move.

“So, do you have a shot or what?” asked the pilot in a loud voice.

“I thought I saw something crawl under the wreckage down there,” the gunman answered. “I’m not sure what it was though.”

“Why don’t you see if you can flush it out?” the pilot suggested. “We might as well have a little excitement.”

“Move to the other side of the cement structure down there,” the gunman replied. “I’ll nail this thing, whatever it is.”

Siddoway watched the helicopter drift to the other side of his cover like it was repositioning for a cleaner shot.

“Are you kidding me?” he mumbled, moving carefully to the other side of the cement structure, trying not to be seen by the gunman or pilot.

The gunman fired his mounted automatic weapon, tearing up the lobby wall that leaned against the cement structure. Dust, dirt, bits of cement and sheetrock showered over the top of Siddoway on the reverse side as large caliber shots came in with a deafening noise, blowing the awning-sized wall into smithereens, while other bullets ricocheted off the concrete, and the ground.

“Whew! Damn, you see that wall come apart down there?” asked the gunman, laughing. “Just like freaking Baghdad, man!”

“Must have been a rodent that made its way into the wreckage or something,” the pilot replied.

“Whatever it was, it’s dead now,” said the gunman.

“You want to find another target?” asked the pilot.

“Nah, let’s head back. I got to take a piss,” said the gunman.

“Your bladder problems are ruining my fun out here,” said the pilot.

“When you got to go, you got to go, brother,” the gunman replied.

“Heading back to North Base,” the pilot responded into his headset, moving his controller to the left.

The helicopter flew away.

Siddoway stood sighing, watching the helicopter fly over the trees until it was out of sight and sounds of the propeller faded.

“Damn flyboys,” he said, wiping dirt and bits of cement off his face, hair and chest.

He jogged over some wreckage then climbed up some layers of concrete, making his way back to the lobby elevator.

***

Chris and the clones arrived at the transit depot on level minus fifty. The station resembled that of level minus seven in that the platform was long, narrow and went along the tracks for about seventy yards before it curved. There was also a cement wall on the opposite side of the platform designed to guide the subway down the tracks.

“Damn, the train isn’t even here,” said Chris, walking to the edge of the platform.

“We could walk down the tunnel,” said Kirk Four, jumping down to the track rails, staring down the dark subway passage.

“That could be dangerous,” Kirk One answered.

“Perhaps we should wait,” Kerry suggested. “Maybe it will come.”

“We don’t have time for that,” Chris replied, pacing the platform. “We need to keep moving.”

“What if the train is stalled down the track a ways?” asked Kirk Eight.

“True, it may need repairs,” added Kirk Seven.

“If it isn’t operational, at least we’d know it’s not an option,” said Kirk Six.

“I agree with Chris,” said Kirk three. “Seems like waiting here would be a waste of time.”

Kerry stepped to the edge of the platform, staring down the dark subway tunnel passageway.

“What is it, Kerry?” asked Chris.

“I just don’t like it,” she answered.

“Why?” asked Kirk Five.

“I sense danger,” she replied.

“Excuse me, what do you mean you
sense
danger?” asked Chris, moving towards her.

“I just don’t feel walking down the tracks is the right thing to do,” she added.

“Kerry, you shouldn’t be able to
sense
anything,” said Chris. “You’re a clone.”

“Chris, don’t you remember the time when you and I sat on that fishing boat at the Flaming Gorge and I told you we should head back to shore because of the approaching storm?” asked Kerry. “It’s the same kind of thing.”

“What?” asked Chris, gazing at her in amazement. “Are you having memories? Are you having
Kerry’s
actual memories?”

“I remember that,” Kerry replied.

Chris staggered, rubbing his forehead.

“Are you okay, Chris?” asked Kirk One, placing his hand on him to help him balance.

“This is all just getting to be too weird, guys,” Chris answered.

“What is?” asked Kirk Five.

“My wife and son being cloned,” Chris responded. “Kirk being cloned ten times and Number Two now having Kerry’s memories. It’s a lot to take in.”

“I’m sorry, Chris,” said Kerry. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, no, don’t be,” Chris replied. “I’m grateful for it. I am. It just caught me off-guard is all.”

“I see,” said Kerry.

“Do you remember anything else?” asked Chris, worried.

“That’s it for now,” Kerry answered.

“What about the rest of you, Kirks?” asked Chris. “Having any memories about a boy’s childhood?”

“Not me,” answered Kirk One.

“I don’t have any memories,” said Kirk Six.

“I’m not having any either,” Kirk Nine added as the rest of them shook their heads.

“Well, like I said, we need to keep moving,” said Chris, leaping down to the tracks.

“So, we’re heading up the tunnel then?” asked Kirk One.

“We don’t have much choice,” Chris replied.

“What about the elevators?” Kerry suggested.

“Too risky. The cables have already snapped on many of them,” Chris answered. “Besides, the tunnel is a guarantee towards the upper levels.”

Kerry leaped down to the tracks with the others, apprehensive.

“It’s going to be okay,” said Chris, heading up the tracks.

***

Siddoway climbed to the top of a pile of chunks of concrete, arriving at his secret entrance to the lobby elevator. He made sure no one was watching him as he crawled down through the rubble then fell into the elevator, landing on his side over the small pile of sheetrock, asphalt and bricks, making him holler from the pain. He pushed the
LM29
button for level minus twenty-nine, standing and gripping his side.

The elevator struggled to close from the wreckage in the doorway but closed eventually.
Time to descend back into the pit of hell
, he thought.

As he descended, he thought on about his strange fortune of meeting President Greenfield and saving his life. He knew getting the president out of harm’s way safely and returning Greenfield to the world was the difference between the death penalty and redemption, or any form of amnesty.

Suddenly, the elevator jerked. The ceiling light flickered. Siddoway braced himself in the corner. The elevator stopped on level minus nine, opening its doors.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t do this me,” he said, scared, pushing the
LM29
button repeatedly.

The doors remained opened. He peeked out, making sure the coast was clear. He hurried to the corner of the vestibule and peeked around the corner, checking the corridor.

“The elevators are on the north wing,” he muttered. “Dammit! That’s a hell of a walk.”

Siddoway hurried down the corridor, frightened that he would be noticed. The long corridor seemed never-ending as he scurried past doors, office entrances, a drinking fountain and storage closets. He passed by the lobby area where he noticed the ten employees lying dead on the floor from gunshot wounds. He stopped, looking over them in disgust, crouching next to one of them.

“Gerald?” Siddoway asked in a sincere voice, checking one of the males for a pulse on his neck. “We went way back, didn’t we, Gerry? I know what you’re thinking. All this destruction because of me, right?”

Siddoway closed his eyelids.

“That’s okay. I understand. It’s okay for you to be angry at me,” said Siddoway, talking to himself. “Those Green Beret bastards didn’t show you guys any mercy, did they?”

He looked over the others.

“Bernita?” he said, moving to a female. “I’m so sorry. I know you had a husband and kids at home. I would call them and tell them what happened if I could.”

“Fred?” he said in a soft voice, crossing another male’s hands across his chest. “Your engineering drafts were always the best in my opinion. But good news! You don’t have to worry. They’re coming for me too, I’m sure of it.”

He heard the sound of mutated creatures roaring, startling his attention to the corridor.

“Never a dull moment is there?” he whispered, standing. “Rest in peace, Gerry, it’s time to go.”

Siddoway began a brisk walk down the corridor, passing the other dead male and female who lay on the floor.

Suddenly, a creature growled as it pounded on a door along the corridor, causing it to crack like it was trying to come through. Siddoway, frightened, rushed across the passageway, and entered a double set of doors with the sign,
Seminar Auditorium
above it. He closed the doors to a crack, watching the creature burst through the door on the other side of the corridor, making a crashing noise, sending jagged pieces of door all over the floor. It growled and snarled, running its vicious claws along the wall of the hall, ripping tiles out as it headed up the corridor.

Siddoway sighed, backing away into the auditorium, but was stricken with horror as he turned around. He cast his eyes over the spacious, thousand-seat meeting hall. There were giant spider webs, stretching over a hundred feet from one side of the conference hall to the other. The webs continued up to the ceiling that was forty-feet above the floor.

He looked over the thick strands of webs above, noticing multiple motionless people who were caught in the webs, scattered throughout its webbing. The people were still, as if they were dead, as they appeared to be stuck to the web’s powerful adhesive, suspended twenty feet above him.

“Good gracious,” he mumbled, baffled and disgusted.

He looked to the far right side of the conference room, noticing an exit door that would lead him to another corridor.

“And so continued the mutation,” he mumbled, making his departure, heading towards the door. “All the way to a small house spider.”

As he began to pick up speed, a dead human covered in web dropped in front of him, hanging upside down, swaying.

“Ah!” Siddoway cried, falling down.