Incineration (The Incubation Trilogy Book 2) (24 page)

Chapter Thirty One

I duck. The workstations between me and the door hide me from view, I hope, but did the newcomer see the glow from my display? Apparently not, because there’s no outcry. Footsteps cross parallel to my position, and then there’s a pause, a click like the iris scanner makes when it identifies someone, and lights go on in Keegan’s office. I lick my dry lips with an equally dry tongue. This could not be much worse. No way can I make it to the door without him seeing me through the clear walls of his office. Chair wheels scrape against the floor and his computer hums on. He’s catching up on the work he missed while he was in Jacksonville, I guess. Damn  him for being so conscientious.

I don’t waste two seconds on wondering if I can talk myself out of this. Based on Dr. Ronan’s message, I’m certain Keegan is the one who fingered me for the IPF. If he sees me here, it’ll be less than a nanosecond before he summons them. I wonder briefly if I can outwait him, hunker here until he finishes up and leaves. My muscles already feel cramped and I have to pee. The thought of hiding for what might be two or more hours makes the need that much more urgent. Still, it’s the best option available. If I move, he’ll see me. Trying to make myself even smaller, I huddle against the workstation partition, keeping below the clear part that starts at waist height.

“Aaaghnooo!”

The tortured cry from Keegan's office brings up an image of Griselda splayed on the chair. I wince away the picture and make the partition shiver. Did he see? Crashes and shatterings sound from the office now. I raise up on my knees to see. Keegan’s standing, sweeping everything off his desk in a rage. Computer, papers, readers, and more go flying. When the desk is clear, he dashes to the long table and uses both arms to fling the models viruses off. They smash against the walls and splinter into fragments on the floor. I shrink instinctively. What has set him off?

“Damnherdamnherdamnher,” he bites out in an ever louder voice. “Damn the bitch to hell!”

I’m suddenly sure he’s talking about me. He’s just read or seen something that told him about my breakthrough and my presentation for the Premier. The jealousy that drove him to try and kill me as a kid has roared to life again, if it was ever dormant. He stands in the middle of the chaos, chest heaving, hands clutching at his hair. It stands out around his head like a fiery halo. Shaking his head—To deny the damage? To deny what he’s learned?—he returns to his computer.  I can hear him giving voice commands, but I can’t make out the words. My calf cramps so painfully I have to straighten it. As I’m flexing my foot up and down to loosen the muscle, my display suddenly springs to life.

I suck in a quick breath. What—? Has Keegan seen the glow? I risk a peep. He’s still bent over his computer. I’m reaching up to shut down my computer when file names start flashing across the display, a stream of letters and numbers. I stare uncomprehendingly. Then I realize. It’s Keegan. He’s deleting my research, my notes, my correspondence, everything I’ve done. He’s wiping out the locust solution! As the lab director, he’s got access to everything. I strangle the scream of fury and despair that wants to rip from my throat. I can’t stop him. It’s already done. At least I’ve got the data on my button. Feeling pain in my hands, I open my fists to see my nails have gouged bloody half-moons in my palms.

I breathe deliberately, trying to calm myself. I need to get out of here. I know Keegan won’t be satisfied with merely destroying my work. On the thought, footsteps tell me he’s on the move. He’s headed toward the door. Maybe this is my chance. The steps become  a trot and then a run. He’s out the lab door—gone. Has something happened? I half-rise, ready to seize the opportunity to escape. Something tells me he’s coming back, though, and I can’t afford to run into him in the hall. I sink again a second before he bursts through the door.

Carrying a bulky weapon with a reservoir on the stock and a cone-shaped muzzle, he strides down the middle of the lab, straight toward the locust enclosure. He puts the weapon down as he fumbles to get the door open and I recognize it. It's an experimental flamejet, probably from the weapons lab next door. No! He’s going to destroy the locusts, wipe out months of research. Without the locusts themselves or my research notes, the eradication project will be starting over almost from scratch. If the locusts continue evolving, which they will, he could set it back more than a year. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of people will die, eaten by the locusts, if we don’t release this batch of genetically modified locusts to mate with the wild population. He’s going to sentence thousands to death to get back at me, to destroy my work. He’s sick. Insane.

I can’t let him do it.

I stand. “Keegan!”

He whirls at the sound of my voice, eyes popping like he’s seen a ghost.

“It’s really me.”

“Everly-fucking-Jax.”

Well, something like that.

The door to the locust lab stands open and their hum fills the air. Keegan takes a step toward me, and then another. He nicks the flamejet with his foot and it slides half an inch. I breathe a little easier; the locusts are safe for the moment. I, however, am in imminent danger. I can see it in his eyes, his absolute determination to kill me. My gaze lands on the scalpel I used to cut out the locator and I palm it, sliding it into my pocket. Will he be satisfied with my death, if it comes to that, or will he still destroy the locusts? I can’t risk it—I have to find some way to summon help, even if it means I’m captured or killed. There are alarms in every lab, in case of emergency, but I don’t know if I can get to the one near the door to activate it. I sure as hell can’t get to the one in the locust lab, not with Keegan blocking the way.

He’s gotten closer and a smile thin as a blade stretches his lips. The tip of his pink tongue pokes out and he licks the upper one.

His silence, his laser focus, is intimidating. I slip out of the cubicle so I’m not trapped in there. I need room to defend myself. I’m in the middle of the lab now, with him stalking me from the far end. I could run for the door, but I’d never make it.

“I hated you from the moment the proctor brought you to our house,” he says conversationally.

“I remember.”

He’s pacing forward with deliberation. He’s taller than I am, outweighs me by seventy pounds, and has a longer reach. He’ll be on me in a moment. I back up a step.

“I should have killed you then.”

“You tried. You failed.”

His eyes narrow and he hisses.

His anger—I can use his anger against him.

“You’ve got a history of failure, don’t you? Couldn’t kill me, can’t get the top job here, got beaten to the locust solution by a teenager. Poor Keegan . . . nothing but a failure.” I try to sound as scornful as possible, but my voice shakes.

With an unintelligible cry, he lunges, too far away for maximum impact. He’s put himself off-balance and I take advantage. I surprise him by stepping toward him and launch a palm strike at his nose. He sees it coming at the last second and turns his head slightly. His momentum carries him into it and his nose crumples with a crackling sound under the heel of my palm. He’s deflected the blow enough, though, that it doesn’t drive the nasal bone into his head. Blood spurts. Keegan bellows and lashes out with a powerful backhand before I can dance out of the way.

His fist catches me on the side of my throat and sends me reeling. I slip on blood and go down. I roll automatically and send silent thanks to Fiere who made me practice falls so many times. I spring up. My reflexes aren’t what they were. Exercising in my cell and then in my billet has kept me fit, but I had no one to spar with. My timing is gone, my fighting edge dulled. I turn in time with Keegan who is circling me. I’m trying to back up, lead him away from the locust lab, and get close enough to the alarm to activate it.

Keegan’s breathing hard through gritted teeth, making an eerie hissing noise. He’s in a half-crouch, a feral animal ready to spring. Deliberately letting my gaze drift over his shoulder, I widen my eyes and let my mouth drop open as if I’ve seen something surprising. He falls for it and starts to look over his shoulder before some instinct brings his head forward again. Too late. My roundhouse kick connects with his jaw, snapping his head up, and he staggers backwards. He plows into a cubicle wall. It collapses beneath him, but cushions his fall. The connected cubicle wall sags inward, making it impossible for me to jump on him and finish him off. I whirl and run flat-out for the alarm at the exit.

I’m reaching for it, fingertips almost grazing it, when he tackles me. I instinctively tuck to roll, but I’m too close to the wall and he’s got his arms around my knees. As I fall, my head slams into the wall, and then my elbow hits the floor and takes the brunt of my weight. The pain jolts up to my shoulder and down to my wrist. My hand goes numb. I roll, but Keegan drops onto me with his full weight. Air explodes from my lungs.

While I’m trying to suck air in, Keegan gets his hands around my neck. His torso lifts off me so he can extend his arms and put more weight on my throat. My lungs inflate, and it’s like I’ve been pumped full of endorphins as the pain in my chest eases. The relief is short-lived as his fingers constrict my airway. I feel like I’m breathing through a narrow reed, and then I can’t get any air at all. My functioning hand comes up to claw at his hands, but he only laughs. I buck my lower body, but his weight barely shifts.

“Now who’s the failure, Jax?” Blood drips from his nose and spatters on my cheek. “I think it’s the stupid nat. You tried to worm your way into my parents’ affections, to steal them from me. I never understood what they saw in you, but in the end they sent you back. They got rid of you. They wanted me, me, me.” With each repetition, he bounces and my head whams against the floor. Blackness shimmers at the edge of my vision. I inch my hand toward my pocket.

Suddenly, the pressure lets up, although his fingers still encircle my neck. “What’s it feel like, dying?” he asks. There’s genuine curiosity in his voice. “No one’s ever been able to explain it to me before. But you, you’re a scientist, Jax. Tell me what it feels like as every cell gasps for oxygen, as the carbon dioxide builds up in your blood.”

“Fu—” I start to say, startled by the roughness of my voice, but he immediately throttles me again.

“I can do this all night,” he says, bringing his face within inches of mine. His breath is rank. “Bring you to the edge of death, and let you come back a little way.  After I found out the truth at the Kube, I was going to let the IPF have you, re-arrest you and throw you back in prison for killing that soldier. But this is so much more satisfying. I don’t know what I’ll tell them. It doesn’t much matter because you’re a wanted criminal and I’m a respected citizen. I’ve got all night to think of a story. Maybe I can even come up with something that will implicate that bitch Alden. That would be perfect.” His gold eyes gleam and seem to expand and contract in changing patterns, like a kaleidoscope.

“Are you experiencing cerebral hypoxia, Jax? Do you feel your brain cells dying? Maybe I won’t kill you—maybe I’ll just deprive you of oxygen long enough to turn you into a vegetable.” He giggles and I feel his erection pressing against my thigh. His brutality, the excitement of killing me, has aroused him. He eases up slightly so I can suck in a thin breath.

I’m ready this time. My fingers close around the scalpel. I get my feet flat on the floor.

“I wonder how much pressure it will take to burst the blood vessels in your eyes? I’ll—”

I drive the scalpel blade sideways into his neck with all the force I can muster. I try to slice it toward his jugular, but the angle is awkward and his arm blocks the downward slash. He lets out a high-pitched scream and grabs at the scalpel. I buck upwards and shift his body weight to his left.  Rolling to my left, I scramble to my feet. I’m dizzy, but the will to survive keeps me standing. If Keegan gets me again, he won’t mess around with his sick games—he’ll kill me instantly.

Keegan staggers up, his hand fastened around the scalpel still stuck in his neck. A snarl twists his face and murder glitters in his eyes. He tugs the scalpel blade free. I hope for gouts of arterial blood, but only a thin line of red pulses down his neck. With the gore from his nose, he’s a bloody mess, but he’s up and coming after me and he’s between me and the door.

Pulses
.

Hope flares. I’ve nicked the artery. He will bleed out without treatment. Trouble is, he might manage to kill me before he goes down. My left arm is useless, my elbow possibly broken. I can’t fight him. I can’t get around him. I run the other way, to the locust lab. His thudding footsteps are right behind me. I jump through the locust lab’s open door. The hum of thousands of insect wings envelops me, shooting me back to when I ran into a swarm to escape the IPF. I hope this works better than that did. I try to yank the door closed, but Keegan’s fingers close around the edge when there’s only an inch left to go.

He strains to open it, the tendons in his neck standing out with the effort. Is it my imagination, or is the blood pulsing faster? The artery is tearing open. Not fast enough. I hesitate, and then slam my hand against the alarm by the door, knowing I’m signing my death warrant. I have to stop Keegan from wiping out the locusts. Whatever happens to me, I’ve got to make sure the genetically modified locusts live to be released and infect the wild population with their death-bringing mutation. The alarm lets out a keening
blip, blip, blip
that notifies everyone in the building there’s been a lab incident and protective equipment may be required.