Dissidence (37 page)

Oh no, no offense at all.

“At least let me go with you,” he pleads.

“Listen
,
Peter, we’re here now, and things are going to go according to plan, and the plan does not involve you babysitting me.”

He gives in pretty easily, but the look on his face warns me that I probably haven’t heard the end of this.

One thing’s for sure, a group our size traipsing through a forest is no quiet endeavor. We may as well have pulled right up to the front door for all the noise we’re making. When we reach the perimeter of
Permatech
, it takes all of about sixty seconds before the troops are on us. I harbor no illusions about my abilities with a weapon, but sometimes the necessity of the situation can make a
person much better at something. A
nd it doesn’t hurt that a person is a much bigger target than a tin can. 

I actually hit a couple of soldiers racing toward me, and part
of me wants to jump up and down
while another part wants to puke. I don’t have time for either
,
though
,
because the troops are still coming. I’ve lost sight of Connor, Peter, Lori, and just about everyone else in the melee. If everything is going according to plan, they should be spreading out with their groups and circling the building. My group is supposed to be covering the northeast side. I honestly haven’t the slightest idea who’s in my group, just that they’re supposed to be following me. So, hoping they’re all paying attention, I start making my way in that direction.

Shots ring out from everywhere
,
one too close for comfort, and I dive behind a tree. At least we have the trees for cover.
Perman’s
soldiers are entirely exposed in the open area surrounding the building. That levels the playing field a little. Almost as though they read my mind, the soldiers start charging the tree line. Okay, so it was probably more likely the actual combat trai
ning that gave them the idea tha
n telepathy, but either way
,
we’re about to lose our only advantage.

“Don’t let them reach the trees,” I shout as loudly as I can, even though I seriously doubt anyone’s still listening to me at this point. 

I take a couple shots at a soldier in front of me. One of them collides squarely with his chest, but he barely even stumbles. As if we weren’t outmatched before, they’re wearing some kind of bulletproof vests.
Fan-freaking-
tastic
.
I hadn’t realized how lucky my first few shots actually were until now. 

“Aim for their heads,” I warn the others, and then try and follow my own advice.

This proves to be a lot harder now that I’m thinking about it. The soldier, who’s still coming at me, can’t be more than five feet away when I finally take him down. That was way too close. I’m still trying to regain the ability to inhale and exhale without choking on air when another soldier comes around from behind me. It’s too late to even lift my weapon, but his is ready for action. There’s a deafening bang, and suddenly
,
it’s
his
blood instead of mine that’s all over me. I stare at the soldiers body slumped at my feet for a second before turning around to find Allan standing there.

“Thanks,” I manage, wiping blood from my face with my shirt sleeve.

“Don’t mention it. Did you find your way in yet?”

“Not yet. I’m going around back to look.” I have to shout to be heard. Only now am I realizing how far from me he really was when he made that shot, with me standing between him and his target. “That was a nice shot.”

“Eh . . . ex-guardian.”

“Really?”
How does a guard end up tossed in a work camp, only to lead a rebellion
and end up here fighting against these guys?

He just shrugs and disappears back into the fray. A man of few words, I can appreciate that. I regret not knowing him better, not knowing his story. There must be thousands of interesting stories that I’ve never bothered to learn. When this is all over
,
I’m going to make an effort to hear them, especially Allan’s. 

Despite my shot to hit ratio being about three hundred percent better here than it ever was at the shooting range, I’m still not making a dent in the army of soldiers we’re standing against. The be
st thing I can do is get inside
and bring all of this to an end as quickly as possible. To do that, I need to find a way in.

I get my group positioned in what my severely limited sense of direction tells me is the northeast corner of the building, and then tell anybody who’s listening not to let anyone get past them. That’s about it. They should
seriously
just pin a star on me and call me General.

Abandoning the others, I start slipping through the trees around the perimeter of the building. From my avid map studying, I know there are
six
entrances to the building.
T
he main doors, two smaller doors on the east side, two on the west side, and one emergency exit in the rear.
The first two doors I pass are heavily guarded by no less than four soldiers each.
Four of them, one of me.
Yeah, I don’t think so. So, I keep moving.

Everywhere I look
,
the battle is still raging. Soldiers and workers alike weave in and out of the trees, firing back and forth at one another. The workers are already being pushed back, and if we don’t do something soon, this isn’t going to end well. I ignore all
of that, focusing
solely on my task. I push through the turmoil, bullets ricocheting off trees as I duck between them. More than a few lodge themselves into the trunks I’m using for cover as I go. They’re not messing around. 

The emergency exit at
the back isn’t much to look at—
just a rusty metal door, with a smal
l flight of concrete stairs—
but it’s possibly the best sight I’ve ever seen in my entire life, mainly because it only includes one soldier.
Just
one
.
That shouldn’t be too difficult, for anyone but me
,
anyway. I line up my shot carefully, and take a deep breath. Once I pull the trigger, he’s going to know I’m here, so I have to make it count. Two eyes open, I stare straight down the barrel of the gun and squeeze the trigger.

The bullet ejects from the chamber and rips
t
hrough the air right into the wall.
Perfect
.
I try to line up a second shot, but he’s already returning fire, and he has much better aim than I do.  Instead, I dive behind the tree and press my back to the trunk, willing myself to be smaller as pieces of bark fly off in every direction around me.  I’m pinn
ed down and then suddenly
everything stops.
T
he gunfire, the sound of bullets whizzing by, the bark exploding from the tree trunk.
Standing there
,
waiting for the barrage to start up again, I find I have a new appreciation for every breath I take. I wait for what feels an eternity but is probably no more than a few seconds. The gunfire doesn’t return. Afraid that he’s moving to get a better shot, I chance a peek around the tree, but he isn’t standing there anymore. He isn’t
standing
anywhere. He’s lying in a heap on the ground. What the . . .?

“Looked like you could use a little help.”
Lori steps up beside me, and I could seriously kiss
her right about now.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Is that our way in?”

“It is now.”

“Nice
shootin
’
.” Connor suddenly materializes from behind another tree.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“Allan told us you were looking for a way in back here.”

“Then who’s telling everyone what to do up there?”

“Th
ey
kind
a
have it figured out. B
esides, Allan has everything under control. He has a real knack for this.”

He should, being ex-military and all. “I noticed.”

I pull the pack off of my shoulder, and rummage around the small green bag until I find what I’m looking for. It’s time to end this.

Chapter 35

I pull in a shaky breath and hold it. I made a deal with the devil, and now it’s time to pay up. The mini explosive creates a tight bulge in my pants pocket, but at least I know it’s secure. I’d hate to drop the thing and blow myself to kingdom come. Rooting through the bag, I pull out the detonator
.
Connor and Lori are still standing there, watching me wordlessly. There’s really only one person I can trust to do this for me.

“Girlie, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Give me fifteen minutes,” I tell Lori, pressin
g the detonator into her hand.
“
Fifteen.
Then you press this, no matter what.”

Lori’s wide-
eyed gaze drops to the chunk of metal in her hand for a moment before returning to mine. “I can’t . . .”

“Someone out here needs to keep the detonator in case I get caught. This is what we came here for, and there’s no one else I trust to do
it
. Please, Lori.”

“Girlie, don’t do this. Let me . . .”

“Connor . . . this is sort of a
covert
plan.” I eye his two hundred pound frame that easily clears six feet. “Hate to break it to
ya
, but you’re hardly the most inconspicuous person on the planet.”

“I can . . .”

“No, you can’t, but
I
can. I have to do it now, though. The sooner we end this, the fewer people have to die.”

The way Connor’s shoulders slump along with his face tells me that he knows I’m right.

“So what do you say, Lori? Are you
gonna
help me end this?”

“All right, Kiddo,” she sighs, “but you had better have yourself back out of there long before the fifteen minutes are up.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Girlie,” Connor snags my hand just as I turn for the door, “just be careful in there,
ya
hear me?”

The finality of this moment feels so real that I can only nod. Then, although it looks like it causes him physical pain to do it, he lets me go.

Nerves and adrenaline blur my vision as I head for the door. Strangely
,
though, the closer I
get
,
the calmer I feel. A confidence I haven’t felt in a long, long time edges in, and I’m suddenly sure that I can do this. One way or another, this ends today, and everything is about to change.

The door is so thick that it manages to block most of the noise from outside. T
he walls must be even thicker—
from th
e look of them, pure concrete—
because as I inch my way further down the hallway, all evidence of what’s happening just on the other side of them disappears entirely. It’s silent as the grave in here. I immediately chide myself for the oh-so-optimistic analogy. Apparently, all of that confidence was short
-
lived once I stepped inside this
creeptastic
building.

The floor is made of the same unyielding cement as the walls, causing each of my
footsteps to echo noisily. Now
I just have to get this thing to the center of the structure, without getting caught while practically announcing my presence with every step I take. Oh yeah, and I have to do it in less than
fourteen minutes
.

I pause just long enough to slip off my shoes, and I’m grateful to find that bare feet on concrete are much quieter. Feeling a bit of that confidence returning, I pick up my pace and hurry along another corridor
, and then another
. The mental image of the map that I spent several days searing into my brain is paying off. In one corner of my mind’s eye
,
I can see it
laid
out before me with a blinking ‘you are here’ light keeping me on track, and in the other is a clock running out my countdown.
Thirteen minutes.

I’m just starting to thi
nk this will be a piece of cake
when that whole ‘quiet as the grave’ thing turns out to be good for me. I hear them coming long before they turn the corner. Ducking into a shadowy alcove, I watch as a pair of soldiers patrols along the hallway. Working in a bakery for so long, I should have remembered that cake isn’t nearly as easy as people seem to think it is.

As soon as they turn another corner, I slip out of my hiding place and hurry in the opposite direction, coming to a sudden halt as voices drift from yet another direction. Crap, they’re everywhere. Why aren’t they outside fighting with their buddies?