Authors: C.J. Barry
Body Thief (41 page)
“Tell me again why I’m here?” Ernest asked.
“Because I need you to access their computer systems,” Griffin said. “Just don’t get shot, okay?”
Ernest blew out a long breath. “Shot, Jesus.”
The truck jerked to a stop at the gate, and Griffin could hear the driver talking to the guard. They idled for what seemed like forever until finally the truck moved forward.
“Masks,” Griffin whispered to the Shifters. They donned their masks and then shifted to Primary Shifter form, sealing the masks to their faces. There was no guarantee the masks would work, but it was worth a try. Despite the risks, every Shifter had volunteered for this gig. Griffin was more impressed with them by the hour.
Ernest peered at him through the giant goggles. He was wearing every bit of armor he could find. It was pretty entertaining. “What?”
Griffin tightened his chest armor. “I hate masks.”
Cam handed him one. “Don’t make me hold you down to put it on.”
He grinned slowly. “I don’t know, that’s pretty tempting.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she smiled. “Maybe later.”
He could only hope. Right now, he’d be happy to live through the next ten minutes. He took the mask from her and slipped it over his head.
The truck made a left turn around the side of the building, and Griffin motioned everyone into position. His makeshift team was as ready as they were going to be. They formed three lines, tightly stacked together at the rear door. The three biggest Shifters were first in line. They’d clear the way for the others.
Griffin and Ernest were at the end of the line—the cleanup crew. Two more Shifter teams were ready and waiting near each of the other entrances to the building. Griffin’s team would get inside, open the doors, and let them in. The plan had been worked out ahead of time, and each person had a job to do. His job was to keep Ernest alive.
Of course, like all his other missions, that carefully crafted plan would survive intact for about thirty seconds. Still, it was a plan, and he was sticking to it.
The truck came to a stop, made a beeping noise, and moved in reverse, backing up to the dock. Griffin cast a quick look at Cam. She focused on the door, unarmed like the rest of the Shifters, and second behind the lead Shifter in her line. He wanted to tell her to be careful, to get out if things went bad. But he knew she wouldn’t even if he begged. These were
her
people, and she was risking it all to save them.
her
people, and she was risking it all to save them.
He pushed aside the concern and noted that he was risking it all too. Why? In the beginning, it had been personal. Over the past few days, that dream had all but disappeared. To stop Harding? Definitely part of it, although there would be other Hardings.
Then he cut a glance to Cam just as she turned to look at him and smiled. In that quick exchange, he had all the reason he needed.
The truck stopped, and Griffin heard voices on the other side of the door. Everyone in the truck was motionless and silent, and time slowed. There was a loud
thump
at the door handle, and a few seconds later the roller door began to lift up.
thump
at the door handle, and a few seconds later the roller door began to lift up.
As soon as the door was chest high, they exited in a fluid wave. The Shifters moved fast, disappearing in front of him in a puff of smoke. He tracked them with his vision as they took out the four men working the dock in a matter of seconds and used zip-strips to restrain hands and feet.
Damn.
He wished he had these guys working for him all the time.
Damn.
He wished he had these guys working for him all the time.
“Stay behind me,” he said to Ernest. He scanned the docking area. So far the layout matched the building schematics. Maybe this once, everything would go smoothly.
Suddenly, one of the doors to the dock burst open and three black-garbed guards came through. Bullets flew, and Shifters scattered. Alarms wailed loudly.
“Down!” he said to Ernest, who dropped to his knees in a flash. Griffin knelt in front of him and peppered the guards with his assault rifle.
Glass windows shattered, and the
pop-pop-pop
of gunfire echoed in the dock staging area. The guards, however well trained, didn’t stand a chance against Shifters.
pop-pop-pop
of gunfire echoed in the dock staging area. The guards, however well trained, didn’t stand a chance against Shifters.
“Go!” Griffin yelled to his team. They split up—Griffin’s group moved through the security office positioned between the docking area and the administrative offices. The other two groups took the doors that led into a garage and the main laboratory.
Braxton’s men appeared from every corner, it seemed, but the Shifters mowed them down. Griffin let them go ahead and stayed with Ernest, who’d found a wall of computers and monitors in the security office. The monitors showed the Shifters moving through the facility. Red flashing alarm lights created a surreal strobe effect.
“Any sign of the gas?” he asked Ernest.
Ernest shook his head and pulled off his goggles. “Appears clear.”
Griffin caught a flash of Cam in one of the monitors, and then she was gone. She’d be okay, he told himself for the hundredth time. But he wasn’t with her. He couldn’t protect her. He realized that this was his future. Regardless of what she’d said, humans were and would always be her enemy. This place alone confirmed that.
With a pang of sadness and clarity, he realized that she belonged with her own people. They needed her, and she needed them. She was their only storyteller. The only one who could ground them in this unfriendly world. There was no place for him there. And then he realized what Sani was saying. He would have to sacrifice the one thing he wanted more than anything else in order for her to survive.
Then the alarms shut off, and Griffin welcomed the silence. “Thank you.”
Ernest nodded, hunkered over the keyboard and mouse, and worked fast. “No problem. Accessing the network now.”
Both of the other outside doors had been opened, and the two teams of Shifters rushed in, securing their designated areas. The facility personnel capitulated quickly and were tied up with zip-strips. The whole takedown took less than five minutes.
That had gone far better than he’d imagined, and it worried him. If Harding was so hot to get this gas generated, there should be more people here.
“How many guards did we take out?” he asked aloud.
“I counted eight,” Ernest murmured, zoned out in computer land.
That’s what he counted too, and that was way too low. “We’re missing about ten guards,” he told Ernest. “Where are they?”
“I don’t know,” Ernest said, tapping away. “Give me a sec. Looking for a roster or work schedule now.”
Griffin leaned forward and cycled through all the surveillance cameras. Nothing. If there were guards hiding, they were in the bathrooms or they’d snuck out some other way.
Cam came into the security office, back in human form. She was smiling in victory, but her smile faded when she saw him. “What’s wrong?”
He hit his comm unit and said to the Shifters, “Check every room, every closet. We’re missing ten security staff.”
Her eyes widened. “Missing? Do you know that for sure?”
“Should be eighteen or so on a normal schedule,” he said, cycling through the monitors again. “This is a skeleton crew.”
“Goddamn,” Ernest said. “These time tracking records are a frickin’ mess. How do these people even get paid?”
Cam moved next to Griffin as he studied each camera view. The answer was here somewhere, he could feel it. Then he stopped on the view of the garage used for the facility’s own trucks and other vehicles.
Cam leaned closer. “Where are the trucks?”
That was it. There were oil spots on the floor, but the garage was empty.
“Ernest?” he said.
“On it.”
Harding paced back and forth in front of the roaring fireplace in his home office with Braxton on his cell phone. He could hear Braxton talking to his men and loud noises. They’d positioned themselves over the two manholes at each corner of the intersection along the route he’d laid out. A protective white tent had been erected over each manhole. Cones and blockades had been set up around the trucks. The hoses were positioned deep underground. So what was taking so damn long?
“Just pump the stuff into the hole,” he told Braxton.
There was a rustle, and then Braxton came back into view on his phone. “Why don’t you come down here and give this a try? It’s not as easy as you think. There are people out on the streets, there’s traffic, and it stinks to high heaven.”
Minor details,
Harding thought. “If you don’t start pumping soon, I will come down there myself.”
Harding thought. “If you don’t start pumping soon, I will come down there myself.”
“Right,” Braxton said. “Just sit tight. This is my turf. I’m giving the orders here.”
There was a
clunk
as Braxton set the phone down, and Harding let out a hiss of frustration. Everything he’d worked for was about to come to fruition, and the anticipation was eating at him.
clunk
as Braxton set the phone down, and Harding let out a hiss of frustration. Everything he’d worked for was about to come to fruition, and the anticipation was eating at him.
This city was about to become his again. The gas would flow underground for miles in every direction, killing Shifters for days, even weeks. The others would be forced aboveground where XCEL could catch them. New York City would become a no-fly zone for Shifters.
Once the senate committee announced their findings and pinned the attacks on the Shifters, XCEL would be free to target Shifters everywhere. The thought of it brought a smile to his lips.
“Okay, we’re ready. Breathing apparatus, everyone,” Braxton was saying.
Harding felt his pulse jump. He stood in front of the fire, feeling the warmth on his face.
“Open the valve.”
Harding held his breath.
“Valve open. Gas is releasing.”
There was a loud hissing sound through the phone. The gas was flowing. Harding could barely contain his pleasure.
“So far, so good,” Braxton said, picking up the phone and pointing it toward the manhole for Harding to see.
A full load was enough to kill hundreds of Shifters. Harding imagined their alien bodies bloating and dying. No one would know what happened to them, even if they did find corpses. No one would know that he was the one responsible for saving this city. He could live with that.
Suddenly, there was a loud bang and flash of light. Braxton’s phone toppled to the ground, and someone screamed. Harding heard Braxton yell, “Run! Run!”
“What happened?” he yelled into the phone. “Braxton!”
More loud bangs rang out. People were yelling and coughing. It sounded like Braxton was running. The image in the phone showed a blur of streets and fire. “It exploded!”
Harding felt the rage rise in his throat. “What exploded?”
“Underground!” Braxton started coughing. He peered into the phone, shaking and gasping for breath. “Must have—Must have hit a bad power cable.”
Rage turned to dismay. It was something Harding hadn’t considered before, but it happened with manholes in the city. Power cables aged and touched. Gases exploded.
His
gas exploded. It was one thing they hadn’t tested with their formula. Now his gas would blow out all over the city.
His
gas exploded. It was one thing they hadn’t tested with their formula. Now his gas would blow out all over the city.
“Harding? What do we do?” Braxton said, looking into the phone. His gas mask was broken, and blood flowed down the side of his head in a steady stream. Behind him was chaos and screams.
“Harding!” Braxton yelled, falling to his knees. Then he went silent and let go of the phone. It rattled a few times before pointing up into the night sky.
Harding pressed the End Call button and tossed his cell phone into the fire. Everything inside him turned cold. The plan had failed. He couldn’t allow his anger to overtake the moment. He was still in control, and there was work to be done, files to remove, an airtight case to be maintained around him. Then he sat at his computer and went to work.
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