Terminated (Revivalist 3)

Their advantage, Bryn thought, was that whoever was on the way down would be pinned inside the elevator. Sitting ducks. And it wasn’t a closed steel structure; it had open grating, which wouldn’t be much, if any, protection.

She felt a little sick at the idea of what was going to happen, but she also knew better than to regret it. If it was Jane, or Jane’s people, there would be no hesitation, and no mercy asked or given. “Scatter,” Bryn said. She broke for a large, square block of salt, one of the tactile exhibits, and as good as a steel barrier for bullets. Riley went for a support column, and Joe went for a free-standing informational board.

It was a long ninety seconds, listening to the clattering lurch of the descending elevator. And Bryn double-checked her Glock, wiped her palm, and braced herself against the salt block, aim sure and steady as she glimpsed the first signs of movement. The cage had come down in darkness, so she had no visual on who was within it, or how many, and she took a deep breath as the metal door slid aside.

With a cold start, she took her finger off the trigger. Security guards. Two of them, uniformed—one young and fit, one overweight and graying. They had pistols—revolvers—but they didn’t look particularly dangerous. Just nervous. Of course the place would have security. . . . She remembered that there was film storage, probably rare material. There was always a market for rarity. They’d probably have silent alarms to protect that stuff, at the very least.

That was the problem with having to make snap decisions and no time to research. You missed the obvious.

The two men stepped out and did a quick visual check, but missed Bryn, who was pretty much in plain view. It didn’t say a lot for their abilities.

“Probably nothing,” the younger one said. “I’m telling you, we get those motion detector alarms all the time. Usually it’s just some kind of animal. They don’t hang around. Nothing in here for ’em. ”

“Did a stray cat turn on the lights, too?” So, the brains of the operation was the older man. He also was the first to really focus on Bryn, and the weapon she had aimed at them. His flinch was visible, but he didn’t dive for cover, he just shifted his aim back at her. “Drop it, miss! Drop it now!”

“Can’t do that,” she said. “Sir, you’re covered from two other angles. Please drop your weapons and lie down flat on the ground. ”

“You’re bluffing,” the younger man said, and grinned as he brought his own weapon to bear on her. “We caught a thief, Bud. ”

Bud didn’t seem so convinced of that. Her confidence had caught him off balance. That was good. She definitely did not want to hurt these men.

“She’s not bluffing,” Riley called from her cover, and edged around to point her weapon at the two men.

“Shotgun trumps revolver,” Joe

said, stepping out from behind the information board. “It’s like rock-paper-scissors, but with more pellets. ”

That did it. The older man made an instant, smart decision to drop his weapon to the ground, while the younger one was still staring wide-eyed at the newcomers. Four seconds later, with his partner (or boss) already spread facedown on the ground, the kid realized that he was about to get himself shot, and threw the gun away in a panic, thrusting his hands straight up in the air. More like he was planning a high dive than surrender.

“Down, son,” Joe said, and gestured with the barrel of the shotgun. “Just like your friend there. ” The young man dropped to his knees, arms still up, then looked confused about what to do next. Joe sighed. “You can use your hands to lower yourself. ”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, and stretched out.

Riley, who had the most experience in this kind of thing, given that she was FBI, took charge with calm efficiency, zip-tying their wrists and confiscating the weapons, which she added to her backpack. “Right,” she said, and patted Bud on the shoulder. “The alarms. Did they go straight to the police, too?”

“Yes,” he said. “They’ll be here in about two minutes. So you’d better clear out, fast. ” He sounded confident, and Bryn would have bought it, except she—like Riley—was watching the younger man. He seemed confused.

“Yeah, nice try,” Riley said. “Bryn, the alarms are local only. We’re fine for now. Tell you what, we’re going to call it in for you on the way out, so you don’t have to worry about being stuck here like this for long. ” She rose to her feet, and walked into the elevator, and Joe and Bryn joined her. Bryn slid the gate closed, and the second she did, the elevator began to rise.

“Did you press the button?” she asked Riley, who was next to the control panel. The elevator rose past the ceiling level, and the light from the cavern cut out, leaving them in pitch darkness in the popping, groaning metal of the elevator. A dark ride, for sure. It felt claustrophobic and rickety, and Bryn had to take in slow, deep breaths to stop herself from feeling so trapped.

“No, I didn’t press anything,” Riley’s voice finally said, flat and calm. “I’m pretty sure we’re going to have company up top, and they won’t be rent-a-cops. ”

“On the plus side, they might assume that we are, at least for a second,” Bryn said. “If they know that security’s on the premises and just descended. ”

“You think it’ll slow them down any? Because if it’s Jane’s people, they’re not worried about innocent bystander breakage. ”

That was true. Worryingly true. Bryn counted the seconds, and when she reached seventy she quietly said, “Get ready. Stay against the sides. ”

Joe and Riley took the left, and Bryn took the right, and as the light spilled into the elevator’s cab through the grate, so did a rattle of noise, and the smell of gunfire. Worstcasescenario, Bryn thought in a burst of adrenaline, and time seemed to slow down.

She moved faster.

Opening the grate was too slow; they’d be hit multiple times, probably in the head, before that could happen. So she simply took hold of the grate and shoved, popping it loose from its moorings, and the heavy thing toppled fast and heavy—landing on and smashing two of their attackers to the floor of the lobby. Bryn didn’t pause; she jumped out, aimed, and it seemed almost as if she were laser-targeting each gunman with split-second accuracy.

Seven shots, delivered as fast she could pull the trigger, and seven people went down, hard. Riley was shoulder to shoulder with her, also firing, and before Joe had even moved out of the elevator, the lobby was silent, save for twitches from the fallen bodies. The smell of blood and relaxing bladders and bowels mixed with that of the gunpowder.

Jane’s people, but Jane wasn’t with them. And none of these, as far as Bryn could tell, were Revived; at the very least, the head shots had put them down and out for now. Bryn bent and scooped up two assault rifles; she tossed one to Riley and slung the other over her chest, and looked around the place. It was small. There was a gift shop off to the left that sold T-shirts, hoodies, and—inevitably—salt-related items such as lamps and table condiments. She was more interested in the small food counter that was next to it, though, and vaulted the counter and through the swinging doors to the back, where the refrigerator was kept. They did simple food here, like burgers—sure enough, the raw materials were in place. Bryn grabbed several tubular packs of raw ground beef, and shoved them in her pack.