They worked quickly and easily together, in a silence broken only by the occasional murmured direction. Around every corner Jones expected to come face-to-face with Aloria or with some trap of hers, but they made it to the back of the building without encountering anyone, even a guard. Lea squeezed his shoulder as she moved past him to start laying out the detonators, giving him a quick smile. He returned it, gradually relaxing and just hoping that Drae, Shiki, and Shasta could maintain whatever they were doing to keep the place quiet.
They worked their way back towards the front, setting the detonators—all linked together so they could create a domino effect by only activating one once they got back to the front door—in place with quick assured movements. When they reached the labs Jones ducked inside to start looking through the files while Lea set detonators around the room. She joined him once she was done and found a box they could carry the files out in, helping him to stuff them in.
It was such a small sound, only a dull pop, that Jones didn’t even notice it at first, and didn’t realize anything was wrong until he heard Lea sigh and then the mailsack thud of something hitting the ground. Thinking that maybe she had accidentally dropped something, he glanced over his shoulder, then spun around when he saw her sprawled out on her back on the tile floor. The front of her shirt was swiftly darkening with blood and she was breathing in quick hard pants, her wide eyes fixed on the banks of dead fluorescent lights on the ceiling.
“Lea?” He dropped the file he was holding and went down on his knees beside her, using the knife at his belt to slice her shirt open. Blood pulsed slowly from a hole the size of his thumb, centered between her breasts. He pressed a hand to it automatically, grimacing at the hot, sticky dampness against his palm, and turned her face towards him. Her eyes looked right through him, seeing nothing, and her breathing began to hitch and choke.
Swearing under his breath he tried to use her shirt as a makeshift bandage, but as he pressed it against the wound she convulsed, arching up so hard all the tendons in her neck stood out in cords. She coughed a spray of thick, bright red blood and collapsed back, her eyes glazing over. Under his hands her chest hitched once, twice, and stopped.
Hardly aware that he was muttering, ‘No, no, no’ under his breath, he started CPR, tasting her blood as he tried to blow air into her lungs. More blood spread in a slow pool around them, soaking into the knees of his jeans before he made himself stop and sit back. For a moment he just knelt there, his head hanging, then he gently closed her staring eyes and got to his feet again.
Something exploded in the back of the building, rocking the floor under his feet. He cast a startled glance in that direction, though he saw nothing but the opposite wall of the lab. Another explosion caused the file cabinets along the wall to rattle and he dazedly realized that something was setting off the detonators early. He hesitated over Lea’s body and the files both, then spun on his heel and bolted for the door.
The explosion that turned the building into a giant fireball was so loud that he didn’t register hearing it; he only felt a giant, hot hand pick him up and fling him down the hallway. He fetched up in a corner, his ears ringing, and had just enough time to throw his arms over his head as part of the ceiling came down on top of him. The floor creaked warningly beneath him but he couldn’t even move; a heavy chunk of wood and plaster pinned his leg. He struggled to free himself, trying not to breathe in the smoke that was beginning to fill the air as fire hungrily ate its way through the walls.
He finally managed to shove the chunk of wood away and pushed himself out from under the lean-to the collapsing ceiling had created around him. His leg ached and he could feel blood running down his calf but he could walk on it. Beyond his little corner the building had turned into a fiery hell, flames licking their way up the walls and across the remains of the blackened ceiling. He could just see a glimpse of the night sky through it, and a single twinkling star.
Sweat ran down his cheeks like tears and he used his sleeve to wipe it away, already finding it hard to breathe in the overheated air. He pulled his collar up over his mouth in an attempt to try and filter the smoke and limped towards what he hoped was a way out, crouching down for the fresher air closer to the floor. The heat baked against his back and he heard something behind him collapse, sending sparks stinging the back of his neck.
He began to feel dizzy before he’d gone more than a few feet, and his vision blurred. He rubbed at his eyes with one sooty hand, unable to draw more than a shallow, painful breath. Between one blink and the next he found himself down on his knees, palms pressed flat against the hot floor, his head hanging. He tried to get up but his muscles were too weak; he shook so badly that he nearly ended up on his face. All he could do was kneel there, feeling the fire creep ever closer.
Sudden pain hit him like a spike straight to the center of his brain. He cried out, hoarse from the smoke he’d already breathed in, dimly aware that his nose had started dripping thick blood. Black sunbursts exploded in front of his eyes and he collapsed onto his belly, gasping for air. Underneath the crackle of the flames he heard something snap and had time to wonder if it was something inside him before the floor collapsed beneath him.
He should have landed in a mess of wooden beams and plaster but instead he landed in thick grass, still damp with dew. The sky overhead was a pale grey just touched with the first tinges of dawn. He rolled over onto his back to look up at it, then turned his head to the side to spit out a mouthful of blood. His nose was still bleeding but sluggishly, and the pain was fading, leaving him feeling heavy-eyed and worn. He closed his eyes, just meaning to rest for a moment, and instead dropped down into darkness.
He woke in a cell, sprawled out on a cot with a thin, musty blanket draped across his legs. His head pounded and he felt his stomach twist as he tried to sit up; all he could do was roll over and throw up on the stone floor. The metallic taste of blood was in the back of his throat and he spit to get rid of it and the taste of vomit, wishing for a glass of water.
The rattle of chains alerted him and he sat up so fast he nearly made himself throw up again. Swallowing hard against nausea, he squinted into the dim opposite corner of the cell, trying to get a better look at the hulking shadow seated there. The light coming in from the hallway outside was negligible and all he could see was a bit of reflection from a thick length of chain and a vaguely humanoid shape.
“Hello?” His voice cracked in the middle of the word and he cleared his throat. “Hey, who’s there?” He’d put a hand to his hip automatically but of course his guns were gone, along with everything but his boots, jeans, and shirt.
The shadow stirred and slowly straightened up, coming out into what little light there was. The man was as big as his shadow had suggested, easily four or five inches taller than Jones’s own six-foot-two, but built along lean rather than muscular lines. His hair was a dark brown, long and matted into dreadlocks, and a pair of spiralled ivory horns jutted out of it. There was something feline about his face and his tanned skin was marked on cheeks, arms, and bare chest by black tribal tattoos. The heavy chain was attached to his ankle and wrapped around a ring as thick as Jones’s wrist, set in the wall.
“Hi,” Jones said cautiously.
“Hello,” the stranger said in accented English, giving him a slight bow. “My name is Khaldros.”
“Jones.” He offered a hand, which was nearly swallowed up in Khaldros’s. “Where are we?”
“Jail.” Khaldros smiled a little, showing a hint of sharp teeth.
“Yeah, thanks. Helpful.” Jones went to lean against the bars and looked up and down the hall, but he didn’t see much more than a few flickering lights, a dirty floor, and the shadowed fronts of other cells.
“I don’t plan on being here long enough to care what it is called. Sit and wait, Jones.” Khaldros took his own advice, settling back down in the corner with his knees drawn up and his long arms wrapped around them.
Jones spared him a look then started examining the cell’s bars for any sign of weakness. It looked solidly built despite the general grungy air to the entire area, and the wall it was set in seemed perfectly whole. In frustration he rattled it then returned to sit on the cot, rubbing at his temple. Khaldros’s calmness infuriated him but he bit back the urge to start yelling, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm down.
“Time to go,” Khaldros said after a long stretch of silence. He got to his feet again and offered Jones a hand. “Would you like to come?”
Jones eyed his hand suspiciously, then looked around the cell again. Wherever Khaldros planned to take him—and how he planned to do it—it had to be better than being trapped in a dirty, dank cell in a place he didn’t even know the name of. Hesitantly he reached out and took Khaldros’s hand.
“Hold on,” Khaldros said, and took the hand that had suddenly thrust through the wall. Jonesy had time to make a startled noise and then Khaldros yanked him forward, straight towards the dirty bricks. He flinched, using his free arm to protect his face, but instead of crashing into the wall he stumbled out into clean air filled with the heavy scent of lilacs.
He cautiously dropped his arm and found himself standing in a field full of purple lilacs, while Khaldros watched him in amusement. Another man had joined them—or they had joined him—and he was studying Jones with one pale eyebrow raised, though he offered a ready smile once Jones looked at him.
“Kalani, Jones,” Khaldros said. “Jones, Kalani.”
“A pleasure, probably,” Kalani said. He too had an accent but it wasn’t the same as Khaldros’s; in fact Jones almost thought he could place it. “Have we met?”
“I don’t think so,” Jones said, after studying his face. “I’m looking for people though, maybe they came here too. Do the names Andraeon, Shiki Kanemura, or Shasta Lockwood ring a bell?”
Kalani’s smile brightened, softening his sharp features, and he nodded. “I know Shasta. You are a friend of his? I don’t think he’s ever mentioned you.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Jones said, laughing a little out of pure relief. “Can you help me find him?”
“Of course. Follow me, please.” Kalani opened one of the now-familiar gateways, and together they stepped into the between places.
No comments:
Post a Comment