JACK KILBORN ~ TRAPPED (37 page)

He smiled at her. This had to be the least-fussy, best-behaved child on the planet. She kissed his forehead and tucked him into his sling, then scooped up the hammer and drill, and limped down the stone stairs. They came to an end at the cell room, which was brighter with the lights on, but not by much. She gingerly touched her leg wounds and noted they were bleeding again.

Wouldn’t it be funny if I lived through this and then died of an infection?

She ignored the pain, scurrying over to the kids’ cells. They each had their hands cuffed behind their backs, and Tom was curled up in a ball.

“
Sara!”

“
Shh,” she told Cindy. “I’m going to try to get the doors open. You all need to watch the stairs and the door over there, make sure no one is coming. What happened to Tom?”

“
Lester and Martin,” Tyrone said. “Beat him up pretty good. Why’d you marry that guy anyway?”

“
The man I fell in love with was a good man,” Sara said, squinting at the lock on Cindy’s prison door. “He was turned into something else.”

Sara knew the key for Georgia’s room wouldn’t fit, but she tried it anyway. No suck luck. Then she stuck the ice pick in the keyhole. Sara had no idea how lock mechanisms worked, other than something needed to be turned. She poked around for a minute without getting anywhere.

“
Tyrone, can you pick locks?”

“
Why, ‘cause I’m black?”

“
No, Tyrone. Because you’re a criminal.”

“
Hells no. Only thing I ever needed to bust a lock was my foot, or a gat.”

Sara tucked the ice pick away and wielded the drill.

“
That might work, too,” Tyrone said.

She placed the bit inside the keyhole and pushed while pressing the trigger. The bit was stronger than the old iron, and it immediately began to dig in.

Then the drill whined, and slowly petered to a stop. Sara pressed the trigger a few more times.

The battery was dead.

“
Lester, did you hear that?” Dr. Plincer asked.

Lester hadn’t been paying attention. While Doctor was busy sewing Subject 33 up, Lester had been clandestinely squeezing the paralyzed man’s testicles. Lester got pleasure from the act, as he did whenever he was hurting someone, but was unhappy that Subject 33 couldn’t scream or cry. Pain without screams was like ice cream without chocolate sauce.

Lester would wait for the drug to wear off. Then he’d do much worse things.

“
It sounds like a machine of some sort,” Doctor said. “In the cell room.”

Lester listened, hearing a faint buzzing noise that faded out.

“
Go check it, please, Lester, if you would be so kind.”

Lester gave Subject 33 one more big squeeze and then headed for the door.

Martin sprinted at the metal security door for the third time, slamming his shoulder against it. His nose was bleeding over his mouth, down his neck, but he didn’t pay it any mind. His only goal was to get through this door and get that bitch he married.

“
Don’t you have a key?” Georgia asked.

Martin sneered at her. “If I had a key, would I be trying to bust it down?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “You always were an asshole, Martin. How’s your nose? Looks painful.”

Georgia chewed on her lower lip and gave his nose a stiff poke.

Martin lashed out with a backhand, knocking the little brat across the room. “Don’t touch me ever again. And put on some goddamn clothes.”

He stared at his nemesis, the door, once more. Solid metal. Set in a stone wall. Calling for help was an option, but he didn’t think his voice would carry all the way to the lab. Kicking wouldn’t it be any more useful than ramming it, especially since the door opened inward.

Wait a sec. The hinges are on the inside.

Martin looked around on the floor, found the bloody metal shears. There were three hinges on the door, each with a pin holding the two parts of the shaft together. He knelt down and pried the bottom pin up, like pulling a nail. It took a bit of effort, but he was able to get it out.

The middle pin was more difficult, probably because the door’s weight was no longer evenly distributed. Martin took off his hiking boot, placed the tip of the scissors under the pin’s head, and beat on the end until it came free.

He used the same hammering technique on the last pin, which was the toughest of all. The sucker simply didn’t want to budge. But Martin was ferocious in his determination, and millimeter by millimeter the pin eased out of the shaft until it finally popped out the top and clanged onto the floor.

Now hingeless, Martin could pry the door open. It fell behind him with a crash that made Georgia jump. Martin put his boot back on, stuck the scissors in his back pocket, and wiped his bleeding nose on his sleeve.

Punch me? Let’s see how you punch when I cut your fingers off, Sara.

Sara didn’t bother to curse the universe. Even though it was probably warranted, she didn’t have the time. She tried unplugging the battery and plugging it back in, but it did nothing. The drill was useless.

That left the hammer and the ice pick. She stuck the pick back in the lock and gripped it tight, ready to give the base a whack.

“
Sara!” Cindy’s voice had gone up an octave. “Lester’s coming!”

Sara didn’t bother to look. She continued to beat on the ice pick.

“
Shit,” Tyrone sounded scared. “Martin just came down the stairs. You gotta run, Sara.”

Sara whacked the pick again. “I’m not leaving you here.”

Cindy said, “Lester’s coming this way.”

“
So is Martin,” Tyrone said. “Sara, you gotta
go.
”

She shook her head, not daring to look up. “No. I’m getting you out.”

“
Sara,” Cindy was leaning against the bars. “Go to the gridiron. I dropped a gun in the bushes right next to it. It’s bright out now. You can find it, then come back and save us.”

Sara hit the pick once more. The tip broke in half. She felt like crying.

“
Sara, please. Go.”

Now Sara did look up. Her husband and Lester were heading toward her, and then Martin pointed.

“
There you are!”

Sara stared hard at Cindy. “I’ll be back for you.” Their fingers touched.

Then Sara ran. She ran to the big steel door, turned the lock, and pushed.

Nothing happened.

She pushed harder, leaning into it, and the door squealed and inched open.

“
Sara!” Cindy yelled.

Sara didn’t want to look, but she did. Martin and Lester were twenty yards away at most, both of them running. Sara only had a few seconds.

She strained against the heavy door, putting all of her weight into it, her injured leg trembling and feeling like it was about to burst.

The door opened to a foot wide, maybe an inch or two less. Sara crammed Jack through the crack, holding him by the back of his onesie. Then she tried to wedge herself into the space, sandwiched between the door and the frame, fitting her head through sideways. But her body wouldn’t follow suit, her chest was too big.

I’m stuck.

Sara could hear Martin and Lester almost upon her. She strained, but the door was too heavy, squeezing her too tight.

Incredibly, her subconscious latched on to a solution, a logic problem she liked to tell her kids. A truck, fifteen feet tall, gets struck under an overpass that is only fourteen feet, ten inches high. What’s the easiest way to free the truck?

Let the air out of the tires.

Sara exhaled forcefully, blowing out her cheeks, emptying her lungs.

Someone grabbed her. But Sara had compressed her ribcage just enough, and she slipped through the door and pulled away and ran outside and into the woods and ran around trees and through shrubs and ran and ran and ran.

Eventually, her bad leg just stopped supporting her, and Sara had to lean against an elm and rub out the cramp that had formed around the fork wounds. Her jeans were soaked with blood, and she realized she was still holding on to the hammer.

While she tried to catch her breath, Sara listened to the woods, to see if she was being followed. She didn’t hear the sounds of pursuit, but she did hear another sound.

Sara glanced overhead, and watched a low-flying helicopter skirt the tree canopy, heading toward the prison.

Dr. Plincer tied off his last suture, then used his stethoscope to make sure Subject 33’s lungs were inflated. They both sounded fine. Plincer hooked up an IV filled with antibiotics, then peeled off his latex gloves. Subject 33 would be paralyzed for several more hours, so there was no need to get him locked up right away. Besides, the guests would be arriving in just a few minutes.

Plincer left the lab and strolled down the hallway, into his bedroom. He checked his facial putty in the mirror and judged the scar coverage to be adequate. There were some spatters of blood on his lab coat, but he didn’t see how that would do anything to hurt the negotiations.

In the top drawer of his dresser were a detailed account of his procedure, an ingredient list of his serum, and various notes, charts, and graphs supporting his findings. He also picked up a plastic bag filled with items Captain Prendick had acquired for him at some sex store.

Plincer returned to the lab, where he grabbed a sealed test tube sample of the serum used in the procedure. This was the latest version, the kind that was apparently successful with Georgia.

Then he went into the cell room, to prepare the volunteers. The three children looked suitably cowed. The white one also looked like someone had used him as the board in a game of darts.

The doctor reached into the sex bag and pulled out a ball gag. Red rubber, with a strap that wound around the head to hold it in the mouth.

“
You, young man, if you’d be so kind I need you to put your back against the bars so I can put this on you.”

“
Hells no. You can stick that thing up yo ass, old dude.”

“
It’s just a simple ball gag. Surely you don’t want to annoy our special guests with your screaming.”

“
Ain’ no way you gettin’ that thing in my mouth.”

Plincer nodded. “I do admire a man with convictions. But I must mention the alternative. If you won’t allow me to gag you, I’ll have to sew your lips together.”

The black boy paused, then put his back to the bars and opened his mouth. Plincer made sure the buckle was on tight, then put the next one on the girl in the same fashion. The white boy was difficult—his injuries seemed to limit his range of motion. Plincer managed to coerce him into rolling over to the bars, and put the gag on him as he was lying down.

Doctor Plincer had something else they each needed to wear, also from the sex store, but chose to wait for Lester and Martin to assist, because they’d no doubt balk at the sight of them.

As though God was reading Plincer’s thoughts, Martin suddenly burst in through the outside door. He was pinching his nose, his shirt tie-dyed with blood. Lester strolled in behind him, a large frown creasing his face.

“
Sara got away,” Martin said by way of explanation. “With the baby.”

“
She has no place to run. You can find her after the company leaves. And make sure the baby lives. You know I want him for my next enhancement.” Plincer glanced up at Lester. “And why, might I ask, are you sulking?”

“
Martin told Lester that the Sara woman killed the pet, not Subject 33. Lester wants to bite off the Sara woman’s fingers.”

“
I’m sure you’ll have the chance later, Lester. Martin, you’d better go get cleaned up. Also make sure Georgia is presentable, and please find a tool belt for her with all the standard equipment, if you’d be so kind. Lester, please help me put these on the children. I believe they’re going to object.”

Plincer reached into the bag once again, withdrawing three black leather dog collars.

PART 5

REAPING

General Tope waited for the engine to cut off before he removed the protective hearing muffs from his ears. The chopper ride had been loud and bumpy, and passing over the trees had reminded him of the last time he’d taken a bird into the field. Vietnam, more than thirty years ago.

All for God and country,
Tope thought.

It didn’t matter to the General that his country had no idea he was here. The US Military needed this. Whether they wanted it or not didn’t matter.

With reserves, the US military boasted over two and a half million personnel. But India and Russia each had just as many. China and North Korea each had even more. Turkey, Brazil, Pakistan, and Egypt combined for another four million.

The United Stated of America was outnumbered and outgunned.

Nukes didn’t mean a thing anymore. Tope knew they’d never be used in battle, and their deterrent power ended with the Cold War.