The Left Series (Book 1): Leftovers (24 page)

Smith was dressed in a strange costume which was covered in blood or was it red wine? I remembered him presenting a cooking show on TV. That’s where I was now. A cooking show on TV. The two guys helping him looked familiar. Ah, the chefs that never say anything helping to cook the dish, that’s who they were. The TV studio was smaller than I thought it would be and where were the people in the audience? They usually clapped or laughed or something. No one here though.

“You okay, kiddo?”Dematteo asked. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Wilde didn’t respond. He stared vacantly around the room like he was looking for something. Dematteo thought for a moment.

“Okay, I need a wheelchair for him and a roll of tape.”

“We’ve got some surgical tape in one of the drawers,” Finn said. “And there’s a wheel chair in the room next door, where you were.”Dematteo hadn’t noticed any wheelchairs in the infirmary but he’d had his mind on eliminating the guard as a major priority.

“Right, get me the tape, slowly.”

Finn turned and rummaged through a drawer in the work side and produced a roll of white gauze tape. He showed it to Dematteo and slowly moved towards him.

“Stay there,” Dematteo barked.

Finn did as he was told and stopped dead in his tracks. Dematteo ordered Finn to bind the surgical tape around the barrel of the M-16 and around the doctor’s throat so the muzzle was jammed directly into the nape of his neck.

“A little insurance,” Dematteo said. “If Podolski and his goons try to shoot me, all I have to do is squeeze the trigger once and you’ll be scraping up the doc’s brains.”

“You really think this plan will work?” the doctor stammered. His aloof exterior faded by the second. “Podolski doesn’t care whether we all live or die.”

“Oh, I think he will,” Dematteo said. “Who’ll take care of him and his men if any of them get sick? He’ll especially want to keep you alive.”

The doctor removed his glasses and wiped sweat away from his eyes with shaky hands.

“Not nice is it, doc? Having a gun pointed directly at you. Now let’s get this fucking wheelchair. You lead the way,” Dematteo gestured to Finn by nodding towards the door.

“I cleaned your wounds,” the doctor protested. “I took the bullets out of your body. I kept you alive, for God’s sake.”

Dematteo ignored the doctor’s pathetic pleas for mercy.

Finn opened the laboratory door and moved into the corridor with Dematteo directing the doctor like a string puppet. He kept a firm grip on the rifle trying to ignore the rising sense of nausea. Finn was too shit scared to try and raise the alarm but things were bound to get heavy when they came in contact with any of the soldiers.

Dematteo stood in the corridor between the two rooms positioning the doctor between the doorways. He glanced around. The corridor was windowless which eradicated any chance of a sharp eyed sniper taking him out from any adjacent floors. Finn went into the infirmary and came out a few seconds later with a wheelchair.

“Put the kid in the chair but keep the lab door open so I can see you,” Dematteo ordered Finn. “Try and raise the alarm and I’ll blow the doc’s head off.”

Finn gulped and nodded. He did as he was told and loaded Brett Wilde into the chair. Wilde still looked pale, vacant and sedated. A length of dribble hung from the corner of his mouth.

The little man put me in a little cart, like a circus car. Wee! We were off to the circus. Smith held a puppet with a long stick around his neck. The puppet looked funny, like a clown. Maybe he was a clown with a red nose and big feet.

“Okay, where are they holding the others?”

“In the holding cells on the lower levels,” the doctor grunted.

“Lead the way, slowly.”

Finn pushed Wilde in the wheelchair with the doctor and Dematteo following behind. Dematteo kept the pace slow, wincing in pain every step. His chest and side ached and he wondered if he’d opened up the gunshot wounds with the exertion he was putting his body through. He’d have time to rest and recuperate later if the escape plan worked. Rosenberg could redress his wounds once they got out of there.

They stopped at the end of the corridor outside an elevator door. Dematteo was relieved he wouldn’t have to trudge down a vast number of stairways. He felt a thin layer of sweat forming on his top lip and around his temples. Finn pressed the elevator call button and Dematteo resisted the urge to throw up, his stomach knotting in tenseness.

The elevator chimed softly when it reached their level. The doors swished open revealing an empty interior. They shuffled inside the small area and Dematteo slumped against the back wall, positioning the doctor in front of the doors. Finn pressed the button for the floor number and the elevator began its decent. Sweat dripped from Dematteo’s forehead. The elevator felt hot and cramped and the descending motion made him feel worse, bile rose in his throat and he wanted to lie down.

The elevator doors slid open once it reached the requested level. Dematteo saw another long, gray tiled corridor.

“This way,” Finn whispered and pushed Wilde out of the elevator. Smith followed behind, puffing and trying to keep his concentration while guiding the doctor slowly onward.

They turned left at the end of the corridor into a lobby area with a staircase at the far end. The lobby was flanked by closed doors on each side.

“They’re in these holding cells,” Finn pointed to the doors.

“Okay, get them out of there,” Dematteo barked.

“We can’t,” the doctor sighed. “The doors are locked with a number combination only accessible from that keypad on the wall,” he pointed to the digitally lit numbers on the keypad. “Only Podolski and a few of his men know the numbers.”

“Shit!” Dematteo hissed. He doubted the doctor and his orderly were stalling; they were safe inside the concrete confines of the building.

He had to quickly think of a way to release the others before he lost consciousness.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

“Yo, Smith? Smith, is that you out there?” Eazy’s voice sounded muffled and far away behind the locked door in the confinement of the cell.

“Yeah, it’s me, Eazy,” Dematteo croaked. He found it difficult to keep standing and swayed a little, his head beginning to spin. “Just got to figure a way to get you out of there.”

He was back to plain old Smith again. Why hadn’t he just told them his God damn name from the start? He turned and saw Eazy’s face pressed up against the small window in the door of the cell.

“Good to see you, Smith,” Eazy chirped. “We thought you were a goner, man.”

“Nice to see you too, Eazy,” Smith surprised himself by actually meaning it. “I got to find a way of opening these doors.”

“Just punch in the combination on that keypad on the wall,” Eazy hollered.

“We don’t know it,” Smith was tiring rapidly. He wondered if the dead end they’d hit was the conclusion of their forlorn escape attempt.

“I know it,” Eazy yelled. “It’s 5212, I watched when Podolski opened the doors when we came down here. I used to watch people use their pin numbers at banks…look never mind, just put the damn numbers in.”

“What was the number?” Smith was having desperate trouble keeping alert. He noticed the faces of his other comrades pressed against their respective cell windows. All had a look of hope in their eyes.

“5-2-1-2,” Eazy yelled in slow time.

“Got it,” Finn said and moved towards the keypad.

“Hey, slow down, big fella,” Smith grunted. “Move nice and slow.”

Finn punched in the combination and the cell doors mechanically opened outwards. Eazy, Rosenberg, Julia and Batfish with Spot in her arms raced into the lobby. Batfish stood on tip toe and kissed Smith on the cheek.

“You okay, man? You don’t look too good,” Eazy said, frowning at Smith’s disheveled, blood soaked garments.

“I’ll tell you later,” Smith sighed. “In the meantime, I suggest we try and get the fuck away from this place.”

“What’s wrong with Brett?” Rosenberg asked, horrified. “He’s not turning into a zombie or anything is he?”

Wilde rocked slightly from side to side, mumbling incoherently. His face was deathly white and his eyes stared vacantly into space.

I don’t know who changed the plan. I thought we were going to the circus. Now someone changed the video or DVD. Other people were here now. People I thought I knew from long ago. Or were they people I’d played a computer game with. No, they
were
people in a video game I’d played! I was in a computer game but I didn’t have the controller to move myself around. Why couldn’t I move? I’m useless at this game. I want to play another one.

“He’s been given a sedative,” Finn stammered. “Hopefully, he’ll be okay soon.”

“Only hopefully?” Batfish hissed. “You evil bastards.”

“What shot did you give him? He looks in a bad way,” Rosenberg asked.

“We gave him a shot of mescaline,” Finn sighed. “I’m sorry but we didn’t want him to suffer.”

“What the hell is mescaline?” Batfish asked, her face screwed up in a combination of revulsion and anger. “And what do you mean by not letting him suffer?”

“It’s a hallucinogen not unlike LSD, used for psychiatric research,” Finn explained.

“Jesus, how long is he going to be in this state for?” Batfish asked.

“Probably about twelve hours,” Finn sheepishly admitted.

“This is all very interesting but don’t you all think we should be trying to get the hell out of here, people,” Smith sighed. His body strained to hold himself upright.

“Do you want me to take over on the rifle?” Eazy asked.

“No, I’m okay,” Smith lied. He trusted Eazy with the weapon but had to see this through, whether it ended in success or failure. “If I start to wilt you grab the shooter, Eazy. I’ve a feeling Podolski won’t be too thrilled to let us walk out of here.”

“You’re making a big mistake,” the doctor barked. “Podolski will kill us all before we take one step out of this building.”

“Well, it’s better to die trying,” Smith snorted. “Which way is the exit?”

“We came down that stairway,” Rosenberg pointed to the steep staircase.

Smith groaned. He had enough trouble walking on level ground without climbing several flights of steps.

“We can go back to the elevator,” Finn chirped. “It’ll take us to the exit level.”

“We won’t all fit in there in one go,” the doctor spat.

“We’ll have to give it a go,” Eazy said. “If we split up, Podolski and his men will hunt us down like dogs.”

They agreed to Finn’s suggestion and traipsed along the corridor back to the elevator. Somehow they managed to squeeze into the small area and Finn pushed the button to the exit level.

“Hold onto your hats, guys,” Smith said as the elevator ascended. “This may get hairy.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The elevator pinged before the doors slid open. Smith pushed the doctor out into the building entrance lobby. Two soldiers stood casually by the glass entrance doors and immediately sprung to attention, wielding their rifles in the direction of the elevator. One of the soldiers was about a foot taller than the other and both wore black respirators to help mask the stench of bodies piled around the lobby. The taller one spluttered for back up into his radio mike clipped onto his shoulder.

“Stop right there,” the smaller soldier barked. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Two bad guys came towards us and I needed to shoot them. I couldn’t move and I didn’t have a weapon. Turn this game off, I can’t play anymore.

“Take one more step forward and I’ll blow this motherfuckers head off,” Smith yelled back.

The two soldiers stopped. They were shocked and a little scared of Smith’s blood soaked appearance and the crazy look in his eyes. With adrenalin pumping through his body, Smith kept moving slowly towards the glass double fronted doors, still pushing the sweating doctor in front of him. The others followed behind in a vertical line. The sky was dark outside the glass doors.

The soldiers retreated in backward steps, keeping their rifles trained on the oncoming entourage.

“Back up will be here any minute,” the smaller soldier warned. “You won’t be getting out of here alive.”

“Nor will you if you don’t shut your mouth,” Smith growled. He wanted to get to the exit doors before any more of Podolski’s men showed up but he had to take it slowly. Any sudden movements could lead to a panicky shoot out and once the doc was hit, there were no more bargaining chips to play with.

“Put down that weapon immediately.”

Smith turned his head and saw Podolski, flanked by around ten men, standing on the staircase behind them. The soldiers kept in a crouching stance and crept down the stairs towards the lobby.

“Shit,” Smith spat. Now things were going to get more intense. There would be bloodshed.

Podolski marched down the steps, his face red in fury. Smith swung the doctor around 360 degrees on the axis of the rifle to face the onrushing colonel as he reached the bottom of the staircase.

“Stay where you are, Podolski,” Smith boomed.

Podolski slowed but didn’t stop encroaching. “Listen to me, you asshole. We need to find a cure for this fucking disease and you are hampering government efforts to find that cure. God knows how many laws you’re breaking right now.”

“Hey, fuck you,” Eazy jibbed back.

Podolski’s eyes flashed to Eazy for a second before back to Smith.

“This man, Doctor Soames, is a well respected expert on diseases. You kill him and you wipe out a possible chance for an end to all this shit out there,” Podolsk roared.

“Go find yourself some other Guinea pigs to work on but we’re either walking out of here or the good doctor dies,” Smith said.

Podolski looked to the ground and screwed his fists in rage. He took several deep breaths.

“Okay, four of you can go but you have to leave two behind for an attempt to cure the disease.”Podolski stopped his advance and raised his hand.

“No deal, we’re all out of here.” Smith shook his head. He had to end this standoff soon or he’d collapse on the floor. He knew every second trying to bargain for their lives was a moment one of Podolski’s snipers could zero in on one of them and take them out. “We’re walking.”