Last Light Falling (44 page)

“Yes, and I thought you would be much smarter, especially a fine specimen like yourself who seems to have abandoned her comrades,” he says while pouring another drink.

“The only thing I’ve abandoned is the will to die,” I say.

“Hard to survive when you’re bound to a chair and surrounded by men who want nothing better than to see you bleed to death,” he says, laughing. His laughter makes me shudder with disgust as the vile shrill crawls up my skin.

“I’ve seen enough blood from your men; some of it is on my boots,” I retort.

“Enough!” he shouts, throwing his glass toward my chair and breaking it. “Your reverence for my men may be lacking, but you will show respect in here.”

“Don’t you talk to me about respect. It’s the lack of it that got your men killed.”

“I admire your confidence, but your pride will be the death of you. Alluring or not, it’s your skills that I seek. Soon, you will succumb to our program and be one of us,” he says.

“Then you’ll have to kill me.”

He strokes the back of my hair with his cracked hand. “If I wanted you dead, I would have done it already, but why waste death on such a fine killing machine,” he says, sliding his hand down my chest and over my breasts. “There are always medical persuasions, and the alternative would just be pointless.”

All I can think about is what form of psychosurgical terror awaits me. The vile stench of his warm breath on the back of my neck reeks of wretched evil, and even the darkest of demons that scurry along the Earth are not as revolting as this man. As he licks my cheek, I recoil in disgust. “The taste of honey spoils my tongue,” he foully says.

“Shouldn’t you be reporting to your …
Head
of State, or has he
lost his mind
too?” Iakov smiles with disgust, but it’s the crude laughter beneath his breath that shares a disposition of equal respect.

“You did us a favor. Kriel was weak, and had no business leading this regime. Only a fool would follow.”

“He led you,” I simply say. I think I’ve just reaped the attention I was looking for now, because the permanent wrinkles on his already gnarled face has suddenly multiplied.

“Nations are not built at the front to which a leader is given. They are won behind the lines where a leader is born.”

If the killing of his men didn’t question his abilities, I’m sure to have emasculated his leadership now.

“Kriel was the least of your worries,” he continues.

“You’re no better than him—”

“He was careless! And it got him killed. I don’t suspect we’ll make that same mistake here.”

“What makes you so confident?”

“I’m not an American.”

“Yet he’s still dead, and I—”

“You didn’t do anything that would have soon been done.”

“Yes, but by a fifteen year old girl?”

“Oh, I applaud your effort, but it won’t garner you any favor here.”

He walks back over to the bar, pulls out two shot glasses, and pours vodka in both. I quickly tuck my knees back and try to push down on the support bars one more time with the heels of my boots, but the cuffs only move slightly; they are still wedged when he turns back around.

“The least you can do is have a drink with me. It will make the pain tolerable,” he says, unzipping his pants.

“Pain, I can tolerate. It’s your uninviting nature that I will take wrath with.”

He shoves the glass to my pressed lips, but I resist, so he pinches my nose until I open my jaw. I can hold my breath no longer, and I surrender as the liquor slides in down my throat.

I sit there struggling to hold the vodka burning in my mouth while he shoots his down. I wait until he’s finished swallowing before I vehemently spit the mouthful of liquor in his face. He reacts with extreme rage, pulling back his hand, and violently sweeping it across my face, bloodying my nose.

He grabs the sides of my jaw with his gnarled hand. “I’m going to break that virgin body of yours whether you like it or not.” He leans into me, puts both hands on the sides of the chair, and looks into my eyes while I stare back at him, laughing.

“Is it laughter that rejects the truth?” he irately asks, slapping me across the face again.

My laughter quickly turns to silence. “No, but you’re going to die today.”

He gently grabs my throat and leans me back, as I’m balanced on two chair legs now. “I’m going to thoroughly enjoy your young body ravished, spoiled, and bled.”

I push down my boots as hard as I can, trying to free my cuffs, but they are still stuck. He grabs my breasts and fondles my skin with his course, gnarled hands as I try once more pushing down using all the energy I have left in me.

A snap of the chain whips toward my ankles, releasing me from the chair legs. The anxiously awaited freedom releases a surge of anger as I furiously thrust my boot into his crotch with unforgiving rage.

He quickly grabs my leg and looks down to see my broken cuffs. “You tricky little bitch. Unfortunate for you, I’ve got balls of steel,” he says, pointing to his padded uniform. I stretch my right hand and extend my fingers toward the left cuff where the remote is attached for the retracting blade in my boot.

“We Russians are full of surprises,” he says, smiling.

I stretch out, almost pulling my arm out of its socket, and press the remote under the cuff. Out pushes the blade from my boot and into his tender skin. “Surprise,” I say, as his smile quickly flattens.

I slowly pull the blade out from his testicles, as blood pours from his crotch and onto my boot. He immediately falls to the floor, screaming expletives while trying to grab my other leg. I swing the side of my boot into his face, striking him down with a hard blow as I jump my free legs onto the chair. I pull my legs over the back of the chair and over my cuffed hands where I now stand behind the chair, swinging it toward him, knocking him out cold.

I grab the keys hanging from his belt, and race to find the right one to unlock the cuffs. I hear a small scuffle outside the room and turn to see the door handle slowly turning. I quickly find the key and un-cuff my hands just as two men with guns walk through.

“What the hell …”

I throw the chair in their direction, knocking the first man in the face and tripping the soldier behind him. I race toward the table for my
weapons, and just as the other soldier gets up off the floor with his gun raised at me, I sling a dagger into his eye. I pull the dagger out and plunge the point into the skull of the man I hit with the chair, and like a coconut, it cracks and splits open.

I quickly gather my weapons when out of nowhere sirens scream down the halls. I recognize that hellish shrill from that day when students were sent running the halls at school in a panic. I shove the last knife in my jacket. I look over and see Iakov trying to slowly get up. I push him back to his knees and his head tilts back. I press the dagger firmly against his prickly throat, deciding whether or not to let his pain linger.

“Some men are reborn or remade while others are redeemed, but you have left nothing to offer that would convince me otherwise. Only the Creator can decide your mercy,” I say into his ear as his neck bleeds from the sharp blade.

“But I’m not your Maker,” I say, sliding the knife across his ragged neck, spilling his blood onto the floor.

Suddenly, a large blast shakes the building, nearly knocking me to the ground. I race out the door and down the hall, searching for the elevator that I came down on, but this place is so large and every corridor looks the same, just as it did in the prison. I continue down the same passage until I pass a large open room encased in glass. There is a sign near the door the reads:
Special Medical Research.
I press my face against the glass wall and see medieval machines waiting to indoctrinate the next helpless victim; I stand there wondering if the next experiment would have been on me.

Through the glass, I notice a blur moving in its reflection. Screaming soldiers are running down the hallway toward me, but I realize they’re running from something. I hide around the corner and hear gunfire rapidly popping off round after round. I draw my guns waiting for the soldiers to go through, but not one passes by; in fact, the screaming has stopped and silence has replaced the running pace of the men’s boots stomping in rhythm.

I hear the faint sound of shoes scraping the glossy floors and heavy breathing getting louder and louder as the soldier gets closer. I crouch down and prepare to lunge forward, but the steps slow to a slothful stagger. Just as a large gun protrudes from the side of the wall, I leap out and swing my elbow across the man’s head.

“Gabe! I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was you. Are you okay?” I ask, trying to pull him up off the floor.

“I’m okay, but I have a headache now.” He stands up with bended knees, panting and holding his chest.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Why are you breathing so hard?”

“Besides being attacked by my sister, I’m a little out of shape. That gun is heavy—the damn pack weighs nearly thirty pounds.”

“Where’s Finnegan and Harold?”

“They’re not far back cleaning up my mess.” He dumps the heavy ammo pack on the floor. “Come on, this way. We’re not in the clear just yet.”

Running through these hospital-like hallways, we twist and turn around corners, jumping over dead bodies until we reach the stairs. We climb to the first floor, and hear gunfire right outside the stairway door, followed by a high-pitched scream.

“Juliana!” shouts Gabe.

“It can’t be.”

“I know that voice.” He aggressively rushes out the door, and just around of the corner, a man is pulling Juliana, her legs dragging on the floor through the cylindrical hall.

Gabe races toward her, but he is quickly stalled by gunfire. Before he takes off around the curved corridor again, I hold him back. “No, don’t do it, you have no weapons,” I say, persuading him to hold back. Just then, Henry comes racing around the hall behind us panting.

“What the hell are you doing here? I told you to leave,” I say angrily.

“Juliana didn’t want to leave Gabe behind, and I sure the hell wasn’t going to let you do this by yourself.” Juliana screams louder.

“Quick, follow Gabe around the corner toward Juliana. I’ll cut them off at the other end. Just distract him for me, and let him know you are coming, but don’t get too close.”

I cut through a common area where another open hallway connects to the other side. I hear them getting closer because Juliana’s scream grows louder. I take a quick peek around the corner and recognize the man as the lieutenant who slapped me across the face and split my lip.

I pull my gun up to the side of the wall, anxiously waiting and pray, “please make me accurate.” I have only one shot at this without Juliana being harmed. I take one last peek around the corner before pulling the trigger, and just then the man yells out.

Juliana has bitten the lieutenant’s arm, and he belligerently strikes her across the face, sending her crashing to the floor. He raises his gun
and points toward her limp body when I turn the corner with my gun aiming directly at the side of his skull.

Just before he pulls the trigger, the bullet has already left the chamber of my gun and into the left side of his temple. He stands still for a second before he falls, leaving the clean white walls beside him stained red. By the time I race over to help Juliana, Gabe is already there to meet her.

He pulls her up, and she seems a little dazed. She struggles to stand to her feet and cries, hugging Gabe. “Are you okay?” Gabe asks as he kisses her on the head.

“Finnegan!” she cries out.

“What about Finnegan?” I ask.

She struggles to answer, trying to control her sobbing when she blurts out, “They shot him.”

I feel completely detached from the fellowship now as everything seems to be spinning out of control. My heart sinks, and my face pales almost instantly. “Where is he?” I ask.

“We got separated back toward the right wing of the complex. It’s my fault, Arena,” Henry admits.

“No, it’s mine. He was trying to protect me,” Juliana says.

“Get her in the Camaro, and get out of here now!” I tell Henry assertively. “And don’t stop. You just get her back to the den safely, you hear me?”

Henry carefully helps Juliana to her feet, but she’s too emotionally attached to Gabe to let go of him.

“Sweetie, you need to go now,” I reiterate.

“What about you?” she asks.

“I’m not leaving here without Finnegan.

Suddenly, Harold bursts through front complex doors shouting, “We need to get out of now! There’s still a few troops left on the south side looking for you.

My stomach tightens, and the worry on Juliana’s face worsens.

“Go now!” Juliana holds onto to Gabe’s hand, refusing to let go.

“I’ll bring him back to you … I promise,” I say trying to reassure her. She finally releases and walks off with Henry, sobbing.

“What are we going to do?” asks Harold, panicking.

“Go get your car, and have it ready at the front gates. We’ll meet you there,” I say.

I grab Gabe and rush out the side door toward the right wing of the complex. I look around and see absolute devastation; the tower that stood before me earlier has collapsed to the side, breaking through the outer east wall. Dead soldiers are peppered throughout the training grounds while the front gates have been completely blown from their hinges.