Spark, p.18
Spark, page 18
Something stirred behind him, and Lucas turned. Brad, Tim, and Kenny stood up, holding their firearms ready. They all gaped, eyes wide.
“Told you I could help you,” Lucas said, panting.
“They’re here for you,” Brad said gruffly, once he’d recovered his voice.
“What do you mean?” Lucas asked. “Who are they?”
“It’s the Rising. They found us.”
He felt a chill which quickly grew into icy hatred. This was his chance - not just to escape, but to unleash upon the Rising the punishment that they deserved. They had made him, and he was going to make sure they deeply regretted it. He was determined that not a single one of their people made it out of this building alive.
“I’d bet that all that racket upstairs was just a distraction to get a team down here to fetch you,” Brad was saying, interrupting Lucas’ thoughts.
“Well, I’m not going with them,” he replied. “I’d rather die. If I help you get out of here alive, will you let me go?”
“I can’t do that,” Brad answered stiffly. “You’re too valuable, to them and to us.”
“You’ll die down here without me.”
“With all due respect,” Kenny cut in. “What exactly do you think you’re gonna do against them? They have an army, and you’re just a kid.”
“Seriously?” Lucas exclaimed. “You saw what I just did, right? You think any of them stand a chance against me?”
“If there’s enough of them, yes,” Brad replied. “You can’t take them all on, and if you get shot enough times, you’re out of the game.”
“I can heal.”
“They don’t need to kill you, only slow you down. Then they’ll trap you, lock you up, and take you anywhere they want. We’ve done it, and they can do it, too. And, most likely, they know how you work better than you do; they made you, after all.”
“Then help me,” Lucas pleaded. “I have to get back at these people. Besides, we’ll die anyway if we get trapped down here.”
The men’s faces were inscrutable, which only added to their menacing appearance. They did, however, finally lower their weapons.
“It’s our job to keep you out of their hands,” Kenny said. “We’re certainly not going to risk that for revenge.”
“No, but he does have a point,” Tim said ruefully. “We will die if we stay here, one way or another. Either they’ll come for us and beat us with sheer numbers, or they’ll starve us out. Our best chance is to take the fight to them.”
“Won’t we still be outnumbered?” Brad countered.
“Yes, probably. But up there, we’d have a unique advantage. Wouldn’t we, Lucas?”
Lucas nodded. “I’d be able to feel their radios, and hear any conversations they have. I could tell you where they are.”
“And he does pack quite a punch.”
Brad rubbed his chin. He looked at Kenny, who closed his eyes and shook his head, then sighed heavily.
“Alright. But we are duty-bound to save as many of our own agents as we can.”
“Sure,” Lucas replied impatiently. “And there’s one other thing we need.”
He turned and strode toward Bernard’s room. This door didn’t have the failsafe locks; probably because Bernard had no chance of getting anywhere on his own. Lucas commanded the door to open and walked cautiously inside. Bernard lay on the bed; a heavy bandage was taped to the side of his head, covering one eyebrow and shadowing one of his eyes. His eye was swollen shut, and the flesh around it was purple and green, pounded into a pulp during his seizure. He was clutching a book like he was ready to throw it, and gasped when he saw Lucas.
“Come on,” Lucas said quickly. “We’re getting out of here.”
“What’s going on?” Bernard asked weakly.
“The Rising is here, attacking the bunker,” Lucas answered. He looked over his shoulder. Brad and Tim stood in the doorway.
“One of you has to carry him,” Lucas said.
“He’ll slow us down,” Tim said flatly.
“We’re not leaving him.”
“He’s right,” Brad nodded. “The Rising won’t turn up their noses if they find him.”
Tim rolled his eyes, but stepped forward and scooped Bernard up from the bed. Long ago, Bernard would have been far too heavy to carry, even for a man Tim’s size, but now he was so thin and frail that Tim lifted him easily. They left the room behind and hurried for the stairs. The elevator was out of the question.
Brad, Tim and Kenny surrounded Lucas on all sides, with Tim carrying Bernard. The group traveled at a run, taking the stairs swiftly while pausing every few seconds to listen for anyone coming the other way. Lucas was soon panting and sweating; he had pushed his body nearly to its limits. Hunger gnawed at his stomach. He had not eaten anything since breakfast, and it was now early afternoon. Since then, he had healed from gunshots, then spent far too much energy breaking out of his room and taking out a squad of Rising operatives. Not that he had had much physical power to spare; the many months he’d spent lying in stasis had completely ruined any athletic fitness he had before. When he slowed, Brad or Tim put a hand on his back to guide him forward. The group stopped halfway up to rest.
“I can hear them,” Lucas said, panting.
“What’s our status?” Tim asked.
Lucas listened to the cacophony of voices rushing through his head.
“Kowalski’s down, and the rest are dead or captured,” he reported. “And they are real pissed that I haven’t been taken yet; that squad was supposed to incapacitate me. Apparently, they weren’t expecting me to fight back.”
“I don’t think anyone was,” Brad said. “Has Austin been alerted?”
“Yes, and they’re sending choppers.”
“Alright, how many do we have waiting for us when we get up there?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I can feel sixteen radios just above us, right outside the door.”
In his mind’s eye, he saw them fanned out in front of the doorway.
“I don’t suppose you can tell us what kind of weapons they’re packing?” Brad asked.
“No,” Lucas replied. “It doesn’t work like that. I can only sense things that use EMF. But they’re getting closer.”
“So, we’re trapped,” Kenny said acidly. “We can’t take them all out, and they’ll shoot us once we open the door, anyway. It would make more sense for us to wait here until help comes.”
“I’m not sitting and waiting,” Lucas replied. “I’m going to fight. I’ve been waiting almost a year to dish out some payback.”
“You can barely stand.”
“I’m fine,” Lucas snapped.
“Even if you were—and you’re not—how would we get past these guys?”
“Let’s get to the top, and I’ll handle them.”
They continued on. After five more flights, Lucas had to be carried. The men exchanged uneasy looks, but said nothing. The explosions had stopped, and Lucas sensed the presence of one hundred more men total, gathering in the bunker. Brad asked about their formation, and Lucas reported that they seemed be moving in groups of twenty or fewer, moving in on the bunker from different entry points. There also seemed to be a sort of radio system set up about twenty yards outside the bunker that all the Rising were reporting to.
“Probably a mobile command center,” Kenny surmised. “Can you take it out?”
“That would cut off whoever’s in charge from the action,” Brad nodded. “Start some chaos. Good idea.”
Lucas shook his head, then sank down onto one of the stairs.
“It’s really far away,” he said weakly. “And… I need to eat.”
“Here,” Brad replied, reaching into a zipped pouch on his belt. He handed him a protein bar and a packet of nuts. Tim followed suit, and gave Lucas half a sandwich. He ate the sandwich first and felt better almost immediately.
“Well?” Tim said after a moment.
Lucas reached a tendril of thought outward, feeling for the comm center he had brushed up against earlier. It was like creeping along the perimeter of a spider web, searching for its center. Like piano wires, the radio signals were all tuned to the same note, and he was determined to find it. He wormed his consciousness through the chorus of voices, until one in particular froze him.
“It’s Kowalski!” he said with a start.
“What?” Brad asked incredulously.
The voice was unmistakable. This is Seth Kowalski… is anyone on our side alive? I’m down… over…
“Kowalski is calling for help,” Lucas relayed. “He’s hurt.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know yet, and he didn’t say.”
“Is anyone close by?” Brad asked. “Any of ours responding?”
Lucas expanded his reach, listening.
“I don’t sense anyone,” he answered.
Tim responded by scooping up Bernard.
“Well, let’s go find him,” he said. “Then we can all get the hell out of here.”
“Alright,” Brad replied. “We’ll go, then figure out a plan for getting to the helicopters, or hijacking one of theirs.”
They began to climb once more, but froze when the door at the top suddenly opened with a bang. The Rising stormed the stairwell; their footsteps pounded like hammers above. The group cowered down, pressing themselves against the wall. Lucas felt a trickle of courage as he met Brad’s eyes.
“Watch,” Lucas mouthed.
He closed his eyes and focused. It took some effort to reach for his power; it was like digging down into a deep well that was now mostly dry. Once he found it, he craved the energy, but sent it instead at the enemy’s radios. At his command, the batteries inside them were filled with energy to the point of bursting, then well beyond that. A series of popping noises signified the devices exploding, and they were quickly followed by screams of pain and frightened shouts. One by one, bodies dropped to the ground with loud thuds. Some rolled down the stairs, and one tumbled to a stop directly at his feet. He opened his eyes. The body in front of him bore a massive, gaping hole in his stomach that smoldered with the smell of cooked meat. Through his mask, an expression of terror was frozen in his eyes.
“Okay,” Lucas said shakily. “I’m going to open the door; you can come or not, but one of you has to stay with Bernard. I’ll be coming back for him.”
If I survive, he thought to himself. Some sensible part of him insisted that this was madness, but he was too revenge-hungry to care. His mind and body were on fire; each beat of his heart pumped white-hot energy to through his veins.
“I’ll come,” Brad said grimly.
“Count me in,” Tim said.
Kenny shook his head. Lucas looked at Bernard. His head leaned against the wall, but his eyes were sharp.
I will come back for you, Lucas thought to him.
Give ’em hell for me, came Bernard’s grim reply.
He reached for the doorknob and gave Brad a short nod, and he raised his gun. After silently counting to three, Lucas opened the door. He burst forward with impossible speed, as if he was shot from a cannon. A group of the Rising rounded the corner, and Lucas was ready. Heat and sparks rushed to his hands; he raised them, but instead of a lightning bolt, a flickering wall of light rushed at the men, flattening them to the ground. Lucas started in surprise. That’s not what I was expecting… what the hell was that?
He stared down at his hands, bewildered. He was changing; his powers were evolving. He wondered where they would stop, but there was no time to think about that now.
Brad and Tim appeared beside him. They gestured silently to each other, then at the hallway, then appeared to reach some sort of an agreement. With guns raised, the two men took up position on either side of the opening. Brad motioned for Lucas to follow him. Lucas nodded, then they began to move slowly and stealthily down the hallway. The lights were out, but emergency bulbs embedded in the walls glowed red, providing enough light to see just a few steps ahead. Lucas walked like someone in a dream. His head was fogged, his body enervated, and the edges of his vision were blurred. Fear was beginning to creep into him; he was evolving, and he had killed at least sixteen men, probably more. It ate into him. He couldn’t deny that he was beginning to second-guess himself. Revenge had been his desire, but was it really his right to kill? Clearly, he was willing to go all the way to obtain his freedom, and that scared him. What would he become, when this was all over?
Suddenly, gunshots rang out. Brad and Tim dropped to the ground in the hall, and Tim dragged Lucas down with him and crouched protectively over him. Between Tim’s arms, Lucas looked back. It was complete chaos in the Bullpen; people were running and ducking behind tables and chairs, and there were more than a few screams. Agents were returning fire, then ducking back down. They seemed to be firing at each other. Then Lucas spotted Kowalski on the ground, lying on his side. His hand was in his jacket, and his face twisted in pain. With his other hand, he held his phone and appeared to be trying to make a call. His radio sat on the ground beside him.
Brad had seen him, too.
“There he is,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll go for Kowalski—you two cover me.”
“What’s going on?” Lucas whispered. “Why are they shooting each other?”
“We seem to have moles in the agency,” Tim replied. “Now come on, and stay low.”
Tim pulled him up to his feet but kept a firm hand on his shoulder, and Brad guarded his other side. Lucas began to stumble forward, head down and shoulders hunched. He could hear Kowalski dialing, but nothing made it through. Then he quit trying. Lucas suddenly realized that there was no cellular signal anywhere; no calls or texts coming in or going out from anywhere in the building. He looked backward at Kowalski. One hand was staunching the blood from his wound, while the other clutched his gun. He had spotted Brad, and they made signs to each other. Then he began to crawl, very slowly, on his stomach while Brad inched toward him, his back to the wall. There was roughly ten feet of distance between them, with no means of cover.
“Get ready,” Tim said in his ear. He raised his gun and cocked it. Lucas felt stiff; blood pounded in his ears, and his hands shook. He took a breath and reached for the power that seemed to be sinking farther and farther down, deep inside of him.
At that moment, Brad took a shot in the leg and went down. Another bullet tore through his head, and he flopped lifelessly to the ground. Kowalski retreated under a table as gunfire racketed over his head. Lucas stared at Brad’s body, his head burst open; dark blood and chunks of brain matter were sprayed across the hard floor. Ice gripped Lucas’ heart, and he found his fists clenched. His nails dug into his palms and drew blood.
“Lucas! Lucas!”
Tim shook him by the shoulders. His voice sounded muffled through the ringing in his head.
“Lucas,” he said firmly. “Snap out of it!”
“I can’t—I can’t do this,” Lucas mumbled in response. Something hot trickled down his cheeks. Am I crying?
“Look, I need you!” Tim said. “We’re committed now, there’s no going back. We’ve got to get Kowalski. Can you help?”
Lucas nodded, swallowing hard. He couldn’t shake the image of Brad’s destroyed face from his mind.
“Alright, cover me,” Tim said, beginning to edge past him.
“No, I’ll go,” he said. “I can heal; you can’t. It would be worse for you, if you got shot.”
“Alright, be careful.”
Lucas’ heart was racing. Though he knew he could heal, he didn’t want to be shot again. He crept to the end of the hallway, just ahead of the Bullpen. Tim was just behind him. Heavy gunfire began outside, and then an explosion shook the walls. They both ducked at the sound. Lucas wondered what was going on outside.
Then the gunfire ceased, and the relative silence was deafening.
“Now, go now,” Tim whispered.
Lucas looked at Kowalski, who met his eyes. He bore a grim, determined expression. His eyes flicked to his right, to a spot just around the corner. Lucas heard a breath and the smallest crunch of glass. Someone was approaching from his left side. He sprang, reaching almost blindly. The black barrel of a gun passed over his head, and a large man in a mask and bulletproof vest jumped in surprise. Lucas shot out with his hand, catching the man’s knee, and lightning crackled as it coursed through his body. The man’s muscles seized and his gun fired into the ceiling. He flew backward, and a second man behind him rushed forward. A bullet whizzed past Lucas’ head, making his ears ring. Lightning leapt from his hands and blasted into the man, throwing him off his feet. Lucas rolled to Kowalski’s side. Not a second later, bullets peppered the wall behind him, and Tim and Kowalski returned fire.
“Hey,” Lucas gasped, ducking under the table.
“G-good job,” Kowalski replied shakily. “That was some great w-work.”
His face looked gray, and sweat beaded on his forehead. Blood soaked through his shirt and jacket. His breathing was ragged, and the hand that clutched his gun now shook uncontrollably. Shooting back seemed to have taken the last of his energy. His gun dropped to the ground beside him, next to his phone; Lucas picked up the phone and tucked it into his pocket.
“Are you shot?” Lucas asked.
“N-no, s-s-stabbed,” he said. “Iweala… she’s one of them. She was a mole.”
Lucas gritted his teeth. He had held suspicions; now that they were confirmed, he felt his blood boil.
“She’s been working for them this whole time,” Kowalski said, straining. “Giving them intel. They’re going to overrun this place. You’ve got to get out of here. It’s no good; I’ll just slow you down.”
“I’m not leaving you here,” Lucas said.
Kowalski lowered his brows.
“Why not?”
