State of Pursuit (14 page)

Perfect.

This hallway is filled with cells. It’s a standard county jail, with cement flooring and metal bars. The stench of vomit is powerful. We spread into the area, breathing hard, sweating. Check left, check right, scan for threats and the objective – Chris. The first cell holds a skinny man, the second cell holds a woman covered in hundreds of lacerations. My brain registers the fact that this is a torture chamber, but I have no time to dwell on it. We are moving too quickly.

In all, there are ten cells – all of them hold prisoners that I do not recognize.

“Bingo!” Uriah yells. There is a main switch at the end of the hallway – a literal emergency door release in case of fire. I slam my fist against it and the cell doors unclick. They are unlocked. The prisoners seem dazed at first – unable to believe that their cells have been opened.

I don’t have time to make a speech.

“Keep going!” I shout. “Move it!”

Panic hasn’t seized me…yet. I was expecting to find Chris here, on the first floor. I don’t recognize any faces. None. Is he dead? Did Harry Lydell already order his execution?

Alexander grabs my arm and says, “This isn’t
everybody
.”

I nod and move swiftly to the stairs.

A lone guard is coming around the corner. I catch the movement of his body out of the corner of my eye. A symphony of keys jingle on his belt. I automatically shoot him in the chest, never hesitating for a moment. He hits the ground with a thud, a strangled scream still in his throat.

I drop to my knees and yank the keys from his belt.

We run through the hallway, taking another corridor that dives to the left. This one is longer than the others, and more heavily guarded. We quickly kill six more
guards, and as the Omega casualties pile up, the timer in my head starts ticking faster. The more security we encounter, the longer it takes to reach our objective, and we’ve got just minutes to hit, rescue and run.

I spot something on the wall, above a door.

“Whoa, look up!” I say, skidding to a halt.

It reads: DIVISION FIVE

A cellblock we haven’t searched yet.

I share a glance with Manny.

We go inside.

The hallway here is short with fifteen compact cells. Each one is nothing more than a door with a small slit for a window.

“Chris!” I shout. “Where are you?”

I pull back the metal sheet on the window and peek inside the first cell. An emaciated figure is sitting in the corner. A woman. An officer.

I toss the keys to Uriah.

I say, “Get them out.” Then, “Chris Young! Are you here?”

Uriah discards the keys that he took from the guard in the hallway and finds the main switch to the cell doors – they open, just like they did on the floor below. The prisoners inside the cells are starved, beaten, and bruised. Many of them are covered in scabs and dried
blood. The living conditions remind me of the Omega slave labor camp I was imprisoned in.

I come to the last cell. The man in the corner has long hair and a lean build. My mouth goes dry.

“Chris?” I say.

He looks up, but it’s not Chris. Someone else. I have a borderline heart attack.

“He’s not here,” I state, numb. “Chris isn’t here.”

“He’s here
somewhere
,” Uriah replies, shaking me. “Don’t give up.”

God, please. Give me a break! I’m begging you!

Injured and weakened officers stumble into the hallway, disoriented and confused.

“We’re Americans!” I say simply. “We’re here to get you out.” Then, “Do any of you know where Commander Chris Young is?”

I might as well ask. Seriously. What have I got to lose at this point?

My question goes unanswered. So I ask again, louder. This time, someone speaks up. It’s the prisoner that I thought was Chris.

“He’s upstairs,” he croaks. His voice is broken by exhaustion. “I don’t know if he’s coming back or not.”

A stone drops to the pit of my stomach.

“Stick to the plan,” I tell Uriah. “We go upstairs.”

Half a dozen officers manage to drag themselves into the hall with the help of my men. “Okay,” I say, “stick with me. Officers?” I turn to the newly freed prisoners. “Run like hell and don’t stop until you’re safe.”

The clock is ticking. Omega is now totally aware of our presence
inside
the building, and I’m guessing that we have seconds to locate Chris and get out of here before backup rolls in.

The prisoners separate from my team. We leave the hallway and head for the stairwell. We have studied the blueprints for this building so many times that I feel like I’m reenacting some sort of memory.

Manny and Uriah open an exit door and we enter the stairway. The metal steps echo as we stay in formation, climbing to the next level. Emergency sirens screech through the chamber.

We enter the stairway. Omega guards and officers are frantically crawling all over the office cubicles. Computers with lit monitors are sitting on every desk.

Computers.
Working
computers.

An Omega guard fires off a round and hits Manny in the shoulder. He drops to one knee and brings his pistol up, firing back. The soldier is slammed backwards in a spray of blood.

“This is an office area!” Uriah shouts. “Where’s Chris supposed to be?”

“With Harry,” I say.

I don’t know how I know this – I just
do
.

I looked at the layout of the Holding Center more than anybody else. Harry Lydell’s office is here – and if Chris is still alive, that is where he must be.

“Manny, are you okay?” I ask, breathless. I help him to his feet. He clutches his shoulder as blood gushes out of the wound. “Oh, my God. Uriah?”

“I’ve got it,” he says.

Manny looks pale, and he is wincing in pain.

“Keep going,” he warns. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“We’re not leaving you,” I state.

Tick tock, tick tock
.

Bam, bam, bam, bam
.

Fire and return fire. Gunpowder and smoke and screaming sirens. And I see Harry’s office. Two big doors in the back of the room. I recognize them instantly from the layout plans I studied. A jolt of adrenaline seizes me. This is our last chance. We’ve barely got any time left.

“Just
go
!” Manny yells, sweat dripping down his face.

In that moment I know that I have to make a hard decision: save Manny or save the team? I swallow the horror of that realization. He slowly nods his head. He is down.

“We’ll be back for you,” I promise.

It’s a false promise. We are out of time.

We move across the office, systematically coordinating our movements like a SWAT team on a raid. Our presence here is
definitely
not a secret anymore. By the time we reach the office doors, every single Omega trooper that stood in our way is either down or dead. We are just
that
efficient.

“Duck!” Uriah shouts.

I don’t hesitate. I just do as he says. He fires a round over my head and a trooper falls dead, half of his body concealed behind the corner of a hallway. Well hidden. Almost the death of me.

“Thanks,” I say.

He nods.

The office doors are marked with simple bronze plates that read:

DISTRICT PREFECT: HARRY LYDELL

The doors are locked and the wood is too heavy to break.

Tick tock…

“Come on, hurry up!” I command. “We’re running out of time!”

Andrew straps a strip charge to the door and we take cover behind some metal filing cabinets. Five, four, three, two, one…
Boom!
The explosion shatters the door, sending splinters of wood everywhere.

I approach the door. I want to be the first one through. We push the doors aside and walk into the office. Desk, chairs, and a window overlooking the street below. Omega soldiers are rallying around the front of the building, returning fire, blindly attacking distant muzzle flashes. Smoke is rising around the building, a flood of gray fog on the Los Angeles avenue that has become a battlefield.

Brilliant, Derek
, I think proudly.
Keep it up
.

But the office is empty, and my heart sinks again. Harry is nowhere to be found. Uriah walks around the desk and pulls open the drawers. He stuffs his pack with papers and maps. I just stand there, frozen for a moment. Disappointed. The hope drains out of me.

If Chris isn’t in this building, then he’s not alive.

It’s as simple as that.

Panic seizes me. I fight to keep my breathing even, to maintain a grip on my nerves. I can’t have a breakdown in the middle of a rescue operation. These men are counting on me to get them out of here alive.

“Manny, is there anywhere else we can look?” I ask, looking back toward the wall where we last left Manny.

No answer.

“Manny?”

Uriah gives me a confused look, Andrew searches the room.

“He’s not here,” he states. “What the hell?”

“He was
just
here!”

“He couldn’t just disappear.”

“He just did!”

Bam!

A gunshot ricochets off the wall. Bullets crack past my body. We drop down, instantly covering ourselves. Manny is nowhere in sight, and the alarm bells are ringing in my head. Four guards are moving toward us in the office, taking cover behind desks and cubicles. I fire a round at one and hit him square in the chest. He goes down. I roll backward and slide behind Harry’s desk. My ears are ringing and sweat is pouring down my forehead.

“What happened to Manny?” I shout.

“He was here two seconds ago!” Uriah replies.

One shot, two shots, three shots…

What do I do? We have to go. We can’t stay. This was the plan – get in and get out. If we can’t find Chris, we have to leave.
Now
.

“We’re done here!” I yell. “We’ve got to go!”

“But we haven’t found-”

“-I
know
!” I hold my stomach, gasping for breath. “Believe me. I
know
.”

I know right now, in this moment, that the decision I make will define the rest of my life. With or without
Chris, I have to choose to either move on or hesitate and risk the lives of the rescue team.

I steel my nerves.

And I choose to move on.

The tears will come later.

“Get out of here!” I say. “Move out, let’s go!”

I force myself up. The adrenaline of combat keeps my emotions at bay for the time being. We push back through the office. It is actually easier getting out than getting in because of the efficiency of my team – most of the Omega troops are dead and the entrances have been opened on our way inside.

“Manny?” I yell.

To have someone completely disappear during a mission is an anomaly. By the time we reach the other side of the office area, there is a trail of dead Omega troopers in our wake. The frantic scream of the sirens is grating on my nerves. It’s times like these that I wish I could simply throw down my gun and make a run for it. Unfortunately, you can’t do that if you want to stay alive.

We sweep the stairwell, moving back onto the first floor again. The walls are bathed in red light. I continue to scream Manny’s name while we move. Honestly, there’s nowhere Manny could really
be
where we wouldn’t come across him at some point. It’s almost as if he left the building.

And he did it quickly.

Or…he’s dead on the floor with countless other Omega troopers.

Please, God. Not Manny, too. Manny’s a good man
.

I hope God is listening, because nobody else is.

We slam the rear exit doors open and enter the alley. We stick to the plan and retreat around the east side of the alleyway. The airport is clearly visible from here – literally just across the street. Our rendezvous point with Derek is several blocks away from this location. The trick will be
getting
there without being shot.

“Commander!” Uriah says, pointing.

A black helicopter is rumbling to life on the tarmac. Its blades begin to spin – slowly at first, and then faster.

“We should leave,” Andrew advises. “Like, now.”

I don’t disagree. We stick under the cover of the building, rounding the corner. Omega troopers suddenly emerge onto the street. We return with heavy rifle fire, knocking down troops like bowling pins. We retreat back to the opening of the alley. More guards are flooding the street.

“We can go west!” Andrew says.

“If we go west we’ll just run into Omega!” I reply.

We can’t dash across the airport – there is absolutely no cover there.

Patrols are surrounding us from three sides. Our only escape route is straight ahead of us – the airport. It’s surrounded by a chain link fence and barbed wire. Our chances of getting over the fence, running and finding cover are minimal.
Very
minimal. We’re trapped.

The helicopter is pounding the air with its blades, obnoxiously loud, even with the sound of gunfire and shouting here at the end of the street. I grimace. We’re boxed in on
four
sides, now. Three sides by troops and one side by a combat helicopter.

Still in tight, familiar formation, the few people I have with me tuck in and fight valiantly. I take cover behind the wall of the last building on the block. I am exposed to the clearing of the airport, in addition to being in clear sight of the helicopter. Omega is surrounding us from three sides of the building. We fire and peel back, fire and peel back.

A huge blast rips through the cyclone fence around the tarmac. I drop to the ground, covering my head from pieces of hot metal and flying dirt. The fence springs apart like a slinky. The thundering black helicopter swoops forward, the snouts of the heavy automatic weapons visible from the fuselage.

We are so dead.

“Take cover!” I shout.

Heavy, ripping automatic weapons fire razes downward. It misses us! The trail of thudding bullets whips through the air, taking an Omega patrol out with it. They scream, collapsing, blown apart. I stay where I am, firing and reloading furiously.

The Omega patrols closing in on us from the opposite side of the building scramble to take cover behind the brick walls. The helicopter is hovering about one hundred feet away from our position, but the blast from the blades and the roar of the aircraft itself is tremendous. Enough to knock you off your feet.