To Steal a March (Surviving the Fall 11)

“In his bag!”

“Describe it.”

“Small needle, around three inches long, and several vials with a green label. You have to prime the syringe, first though, by—”

“There’s nothing of the sort in his bag.”

Jane rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner. “It’s in a pouch in a side pocket—look, just take me there. I’ll give him the shot, then you can bring me back.”

Carl watched her as he spoke softly again. Another thirty seconds passed in which Rick grew increasingly nervous until the Russian finally relented. “We’re going down one floor. You,” Carl pointed at Rick, “will not move. If you do, she dies.”

Rick shrugged and nodded, then Carl raised his rifle again as he approached the glass door. “Step back!” He barked the order at Jane and she complied, still keeping her hands up at chest level. Carl reached for the door to the conference room, removed the chain around the handle and a support column next to it, pulled it open, then kept it in place with his boot. He motioned at Jane with his free hand, keeping the rifle loose so that he could swing it either in her direction or in Rick’s if either of them tried anything.

Jane’s heart pounded as she walked toward Carl, and time seemed to slow as she thought over Rick’s words to her about waiting for the “opportune moment.” She still wasn’t sure when that moment would arrive, but when he said it she assumed it wouldn’t be until she reached the room where Dr. Evans was being held.

Fortune, as the saying goes, though, favors the bold.

As Jane passed over the threshold out of the conference room, she saw Carl turn and focus his attention on Rick. Seizing upon the Russian’s split second of distraction, she lunged at him, slamming into his frame with her entire weight, which wasn’t even three-quarters of what he weighed. The surprise of the attack overwhelmed him, though, and he tumbled to the ground inside the conference room, the rifle spilling out of his hands and scattering across the floor.

Rick was on the Russian like a panther, springing from his spot on the floor while Jane clawed at Carl’s face. Bile rose in Rick’s throat with the sudden movement but he pushed past it, running around the conference table and delivering a kick to the side of Carl’s head that landed with a satisfying—albeit gruesome—crunch of both mask and bone. Carl’s cursing and flailing movements ceased in an instant as his neck twisted to the side, snapping his spine at the base of his skull.

“Here, quick!” Rick grabbed a knife out of the Russian’s vest with both hands and held it out for Jane. She ran the zip-tie around her wrists over the blade, snapping the plastic in a few seconds. She then took the knife, did the same for Rick and then tossed the weapon aside in favor of Carl’s rifle. Rick, meanwhile, rolled the Russian over and opened his backpack, pulling out the two masks that he had confiscated from Rick and Jane. He turned them over and examined the interiors of the devices before using Carl’s knife to dig out a small plastic plate in the center of each mask. A small bundle of wires and electronics came out with the plate, and Rick tossed them to the side before handing one of the masks to Jane.

All feelings of nausea, exhaustion and dehydration vanished as they put on the masks, breathing in filtered air free of almost all traces of rancid, rotten flesh. Rick and Jane knelt next to Carl, each on one side of the dead Russian, until Jane pushed herself up with the help of the rifle and held out her hand to help Rick to his feet.

“Nice work.” He nodded at her as he caught his breath. “Now we need to take out Ostap and save Dr. Evans.”

“Do you think they heard anything?”

Rick shook his head. “I don’t know. We need to get moving quickly, though, just in case Carl’s mask was transmitting out and Ostap heard something.”

“Agreed. Grab his pistol, I’ll check the hall and make sure the coast is clear.”

Rick nodded and leaned down to pluck Carl’s pistol off his hip. At the same time, Jane turned around and headed back across the threshold of the conference room. She pivoted to the right, taking a look down the hall where the stairs leading down into the next area were located, and let out a muffled shriek. Her cry was barely registered by Rick, though, over the explosive sound of gunfire rattling in the confined space. Several shots rang out and he raised his head, first seeing Jane slowly toppling over, then seeing the blood already beginning to stain her shirt and pants.

Time felt like it was slowing again as he looked to his right, seeing a glimpse of a masked figure moving down the hall, rifle in hand as he continued to put rounds into Jane’s limp body, each shot sounding like cannon fire in the enclos

ed space. Emergency lights, Carl’s flashlight and a headlamp on the advancing figure all flickered and bounced around, though none of it mattered one whit to Rick. He wondered, ever so briefly, if the glass of the conference room walls was bulletproof as he raised Carl’s pistol, lined up the sights on the figure and squeezed the trigger.

Glass exploded as the rounds passed through, thrown ever so slightly off course by the angle at which they penetrated the barrier, but not enough to keep them from hitting their target. So laser-focused was Ostap on gunning down Jane that he didn’t notice he was being shot until the third round penetrated into his side, passing through his kidney and tearing apart his bowels in the process. Pain shot through his body and he felt himself falling as he ran, losing control over his hands and arms and skidding to a stop with a wheezing, gasping breath.

Rick dropped the pistol and ran into the hall before dropping to his knees next to Jane. Blood poured from her wounds, her skin already turning pale, as she opened her eyes at his touch. Her lips moved behind the mask but no words came out, and Rick tore it off to see thick rivulets of blood running down the sides of her face to join that which had already pooled beneath her body. He looked her over, trying to figure out which wound to tend to first when her eyes fluttered open and she tried to speak again.

“Thank you... thank you for everything.” The words were barely a whisper, and Rick shook his head at her.

“You’re not dying! No!” Tears stung Rick’s eyes beneath his mask as he spoke to her, trying to convince himself of what he was saying more than he was trying to convince her. “Ostap’s dead and I’ll go get Dr. Evans; he can help you. We can find the Capitol police again, too! They fixed you up last time; they can do it again!”

Jane’s body heaved and a splatter of blood came from her mouth in a choking, gasping cough before she whispered again. Her eyes widened and she reached for Rick, grabbing at his hand and digging her nails into his skin as she whispered again.

“I’m scared, Rick.”

“I know. It’ll be okay, though. I promise. It’ll be okay!” Rick pulled off his mask and looked her over again. Wounds littered her chest, and two had passed through her right leg. From the paleness of her skin and the amount of blood beneath her, it looked like one of the bullets had torn through an artery.

Her grip on his hand tightened again and she took in one final, ragged, determined breath. Her grip on his hand loosened and he lowered her arm to her side before rocking back onto his heels. The overwhelming smell of the bunker meant nothing as tears poured down his cheeks, though wiping them away did nothing. It took less than a minute for the tears to turn to rage, though, as Rick heard a pained grunt from off to the side, pulling his attention away.

He rose and took a few steps over to Ostap, who was crawling along the ground, trying to get to his rifle. Rick kicked the weapon to the side and pushed Ostap over on his back, unable to repress a sneer at the sound of the Russian crying out in pain. He knelt down, tore Ostap’s mask off and flung it away before taking out Ostap’s knife from his vest and holding it at the man’s throat.

“Why. Would. You. Kill her.”