Heroes of Falledge Book One: Black Hellebore (4 page)

A sudden movement caught his eye. Someone darted toward the high fence surrounding the lab. The person glanced around and hurried inside.

Who was that, and why was he lurking around the lab at this hour? Nicholas doubted he worked there. He'd acted too nervous to belong there.

The light turned. Instead of driving away, Nicholas parked his bike behind a tall tree and rushed to the linked gate. After lifting up the padlocked chain, he ducked beneath it and squeezed through the gate. It was a tight fit, but he managed. Inside the laboratory perimeter, he hesitated. Trespassing was not something he normally did. Not since high school. How could he turn down a dare from Justina?

He shook the memory away. The sound of metal being struck sounded farther down, and he ran ahead. Following the noise, he rounded the building and discovered the back door had been forced open.

Whoever he trailed was definitely up to no good. Maybe a robber? What would someone want to steal from a lab though? A disgruntled employee made more sense. Whoever the person was, whatever his reason for being here, it could only equal something bad.

Nicholas ducked inside, his heart racing. Maybe all that sugar from the muffins hadn't been such a good idea.

The inside of the lab was dark. Once his eyes adjusted, Nicholas spied huge vats lining the floor, metal catwalks high above them. On one of those catwalks walked the guy, carrying some kind of bundle.

Nicholas ducked behind a vat. The guy hadn't seen him. At least Nicholas didn't think he had. He held his breath and surveyed his surroundings. To the right were stairs, which hopefully led to the catwalk.

He rushed over and climbed the stairs two at a time. Before he could put one foot onto the catwalk, he heard a splash.

Forget burglar or employee. The guy had to be a saboteur.

"Hey, you!" Nicholas yelled.

The guy glanced over. A ski mask hid his face, his body covered in dark clothing. When their eyes locked, the guy straightened and ran.

Heights normally didn't bother Nicholas, but chasing someone on a narrow catwalk with huge tubs of questionable liquids beneath him made him nervous. He kept his gaze on his prey and winced when the guy dropped something into another vat. A loud hissing sound echoed throughout the large room. The black liquid turned a green color, and bubbles formed and broke and formed again.

Nicholas was gaining on the guy. He reached out, and his fingertips brushed against the guy's shirt. The guy burst forward and increased the distance between them. Every so often, he tossed more bundles into vats.

They neared the end of the catwalk. Nicholas stopped, rocked on his heels, and lunged. He plowed into the guy. The rest of the bundles, three or four more, fell to the ground, none of them making it into the nearby vats, for which Nicholas was grateful. He forced the guy to roll over.

Blue eyes, the whites black, stared at him. Terrified, Nicholas jerked back, keeping a tight grip on the guy's collar. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked through gritted teeth. His chest heaved, and he sucked down air from the exertion of the chase.

"What the hell are
you
doing here?" the guy hissed. He relaxed his body in Nicholas' grip before shooting up, connecting the tip of his head with Nicholas' lower jaw.

Nicholas stumbled backward. His grip loosened, and the guy squirmed free. Nicholas' left leg didn't touch the beam, and he started to fall. He managed to grab onto the ledge.

The guy darted forward and ran. He hurried down steps and soon was running beneath Nicholas.

With a deep breath, Nicholas pulled himself back onto the ledge and tore after the guy. He had a decent lead, but Nicholas managed to narrow the distance between them. It helped that the guy ran in a straight line.

That is, until he looked over his shoulder and noticed Nicholas. How he hadn't realized he was still chasing him, Nicholas didn't know, because their footsteps pounded against the concrete floor, not exactly in uniform, and his breathing was hard and laborious. Weights he could handle, running not so much. He needed to work on his endurance.

The guy darted between two huge tubs that stretched many feet above them. Nicholas followed and glanced to the right and left. The guy was nowhere in sight.

Damn it! Where was he?

He should have just kept his nose out of this and never entered in the first place. Should have found a phone and called the police. Should have--

A sudden punch to his kidney had him howling. He whirled around, his hands up. A large piece of wood came toward him. He grabbed it and yanked. They played a vicious game of tug-of-war, but Nicholas was stronger than the scrawny guy. He ripped the wood away, but before he could use it as a weapon, the guy darted away again.

Nicholas ran, still holding the heavy wood, but carrying it was cumbersome, so he tucked it behind a tub.

Now where was the little rat?

He glanced everywhere, finally spying a hunched-over form in the corner. As Nicholas charged him, the tub between them tipped forward, the contents splashing onto the floor, flowing in a rush toward Nicholas. The green liquid bubbled and fizzed, coating the floor. Nicholas jumped around and ran. Screw the guy. He was getting out of here.

Nicholas raced toward the first exit he saw. The handle refused to budge. Locked. He blasted his fist into it and hurried away, having no choice but to return to the catwalks.

The guy must have used another set of stairs because he was up here, too. His thin lips curled into a nasty smile. "You picked the wrong day to be a hero."

Nicholas shook his head. "I'm no hero." He squatted and leaped across to land in front of the guy on the other catwalk.

The guy grabbed his shoulders. They forced each other back in turn, a bizarre, high-stakes dance.

The catwalks swayed suddenly and forced them to let go of each other. Nicholas figured the liquid, whatever it was, was messing with the support structure somehow. He instinctively crouched down and grabbed the catwalk. The guy tried to do the same, but the catwalk shuddered again. With a scream, he fell and plunged into the green liquid.

The scent of burning flesh filled the air. Nicholas used his shirt to cover his nose, but the smell plagued him. A billow of purple smoke rose from the now-pink liquid.

The catwalk shifted again, and Nicholas almost fell. He crawled forward, holding tight to the bar whenever it moved beneath him, slowly making his way to the back of the room. He stepped onto a platform. The stench of melting flesh morphed, filling the air with the nasty perfume of death and decay.

The form of a man struggled to break free of the goo coating his entire body. The mouth opened, his tongue white and thick, much puffier than normal. If he was trying to scream, Nicholas didn't hear it.

Nothing could be done for him. In fact, there didn't seem to be much Nicholas could do for himself. The floor was completely covered. He hadn't realized until now, but the force of the liquid flowing out of the one tub must have been strong enough to knock over several more tubs. Green and pink liquids mixed on the floor, rising up the wall. Yet another tub buckled back and forth before crashing forward and dumping its contents, too.

His breathing returned to normal. Nicholas glanced up. The ceiling loomed only inches from his head. There didn't seem to be any way down nor up. Then he saw his salvation -- a door in the ceiling that must lead to the roof.

Unfortunately, it was all the way on the other side of the room, off to the right.

Nicholas took a deep breath. Before he could climb back onto the catwalk, the building shuddered with a loud, worrisome groan. Although the floor was made of cement, the walls were the same metal as the catwalk. The spilled chemicals were already eating away at the wall. A huge bubble in the fuming liquid burst, and droplets sprayed as high as the catwalk. With a hiss, holes formed at the contact. More massive bubbles burst, and soon the catwalk resembled Swiss cheese.

Wonderful. Not only did he have to make his way across a catwalk that looked ready to fall apart, he had to get out and find a way to safety before the entire building gave way.

He jumped onto the catwalk and hurried forward as fast as he dared. The catwalk didn't seem to appreciate his added weight and groaned and moaned with each step. When the swaying increased to a threatening level, he hugged the beam, wrapping his arms and his legs around it.

The catwalk beam to the left of him dipped down. With a cracking sound, it snapped in half. Nicholas looked away as metal debris flew toward him. He could feel some of them against his neck and the back of his hair.
Hope none of them punctured my coat.
His black trench coat was one of the few possessions that meant anything to him.

Justina always thought he would look dashing in one. Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to afford one until long after she passed away.

Thinking of her gave him the courage to keep going, although he knew his chances of getting out of here alive were slim, and growing bleaker every second. Another catwalk broke a few seconds after another tub vomited its contents.

The door was still feet away when Nicholas' catwalk began to groan. He hugged it, hoping it wouldn't break.

It did.

Chapter Six

The broken catwalk beam swung toward the wall with such force Nicholas feared it would break his arms. Before the catwalk could slam against the wall, he shifted, planting his feet so they connected with it first.

The force of the collision vibrated throughout his entire body and made his teeth chatter as he dropped several feet down the catwalk. His feet dangled, and he slipped down even farther until his arms held onto the bottom of the broken beam.

Inch by inch, he used his arms and once high enough, his legs, too, to climb the beam. His arms burned, as did his chest. He kept his eyes closed and concentrated on his breathing, even as he felt the wall vibrate and the building shake. It wouldn't be long before it collapsed.

With a burst of pain, his head collided with the ceiling.

The platform beneath the door to the roof had collapsed already. Nicholas was running out of options. The door was only two feet away, but he had no easy way to access it.

Pulling himself up even higher, his arms shaking from muscle fatigue, he grabbed onto a ceiling beam. He swung forward to grab the next one with his other hand. Using the parallel beams as monkey bars, he closed the distance between him and the door. A roar sounded as the wall farthest from him caved in. The ceiling slanted horribly.

He had to get out. Now. Or better yet, a minute ago.

Nicholas swung his lower body back and forth. He brought his right leg up toward the door, but missed.

He tried again. This time, his foot brushed it.

The crash of shattering glass filled his ears. He tried to block out all sounds and smells and concentrate. His thundering heartbeat was loud enough, a distraction in its own right.

Again, his foot tapped the door. His jean got caught on the door handle.

He yanked and tugged and finally freed himself, but the door remained shut. The handle hadn't budged. The door must be locked.

This time, both of his legs collided forcefully with the door. It took five tries, but it finally burst open. He swung back and forth countless times, trying to gather the courage to jump through. If he missed, he would meet the same fate as the other guy. Although he loved Justina and wanted to be with her, he wasn't ready to die.

He forced himself to keep his eyes open as he swung his legs toward the door. He tucked his body into a ball to make it through the door, then spread out his arms. They braced against the open door frame, his lower half still in the building, his upper on the roof. He shimmied his body forward until he lay flat out against the slanted roof.

Gasping, ready to cry out from the effort of staying alive, he crawled to the edge of the rooftop. He jumped onto the next roof over and landed in a roll.

The building he had just escaped collapsed into a pile of melted, destroyed metal, the liquids seeping onto the grass. In the earliest glimmer of sunlight, Nicholas watched the grass shrivel up, dying instantly.

The wail of approaching sirens roused him. He had to get away from here. The last thing he needed was for the police to think he had something to do with this.

He climbed to his feet. Hunched over, he put his hands on his knees. His jeans were wet. Sweat?

He brought his hands up. They were covered in blood.

He pulled his trench coat to the side. Sometime during the fight or maybe when the one catwalk beam had shattered, a large chunk of metal had buried itself deep into his side. Adrenaline must still be coursing through his veins, because he felt no pain even though he knew he had to be in a considerable amount.

Nicholas found a fire escape -- luckily it faced away from the still-flowing liquid -- and climbed down to the ground. He moved slower than normal, and each step took a huge amount of effort. His body was shutting down.

The metal piece prevented him from bleeding out. He knew this, but he could smell himself. Between the scent of blood and sweat rose the stench of bowels and pus. It must have punctured his stomach, maybe his lung as well, because he thought he should have been able to breathe easier by now.

His back against the building, he lowered himself to the ground. He had to grip the metal with both hands to have the strength to yank it out. Blood gushed forced. Closing his eyes, he waited to breathe his last.

Chapter Seven

Nicholas opened his eyes and blinked against the bright light. He waited impatiently for his eyes to adjust so he could see his Justina, for surely she would be the first sight he would see.

Instead he saw a purple-haired young woman leaning down in front of him, her face inches from his, her breath smelling of strange herbs.

He tried to back away but couldn't, and he realized he was in a bed. A rather comfortable bed, if he discounted the blood red comforter covered in bizarre black markings.