Specimen(13)

“Back to the lab.”

We encounter no one as we make our way through the halls, but the alarm continues. I’ve always followed Riley from room to room, never thinking about the complex twists and turns in the Mills facility, but somewhere inside my head, I’ve stored a complete map of every corridor. I’m only slightly confused when we get close to the room I usually occupy—I seem to have miscounted the number of doors down the left side. Numbers come so easily to me that I’m shocked I had it wrong, but the miscalculation is inconsequential at the moment.

Inside the lab, a red light pulses from the ceiling. From behind the mirror, bright lights show a small room with several chairs and a desk with a computer sitting on it. There is an identical red, flashing light inside of that room as well. There are no people to be seen behind the mirror, but there is an open door at the back of the room.

Ignoring the mirror room, I look around quickly at the lab equipment. My options are slim. I upset one of the medical carts and grasp the metal legs with my hands.

“What are you doing?” Riley asks.

I strain against the metal legs until one end breaks from the top. The edge is jagged and sharp. I grip the other end of the leg in my hand and swing it a couple of times, testing the weight. It’s lightweight and hollow, but it will do.

I meet Riley’s eyes, and she nods her understanding. We head back to the door and out into the hall. The sirens are louder here. I place my left hand on her back and push her slightly ahead of me. I have a clear view of what’s in front, and no one can sneak up on her from behind without going through me first.

The echoing sound of boots on tile floors reaches my ears. There are two sets of them heading in our direction at a quick pace. From the synchronized and heavy sound, I know they’re male, largely built, and highly trained. I push Riley behind me a split second before they turn the corner.

Everything slows down.

I watch as the two men, dressed in combat gear and armed with rifles, come around the corner. As they notice us, their eyes dilate and their shoulders flex as they raise their weapons.

With my chair-leg club in my hand, I take seven quick steps in a zig-zag, dodging each shot. The sound of the bullets hitting the walls tightens my stomach. The angle of the hits could come close to Riley, but I can’t stop now. Her best chance is for me to kill these men quickly. I pull my arm back and swing in an arc, catching the barrels of both weapons with enough force to throw them from the hands of my opponents. I slam the chair leg into the thigh of one man as my fist reaches the other. One of the rifles discharges as it smashes into the wall, and one last shot hits the ceiling behind me. I hear Riley cry out.

In the back of my head, I register her quickening breaths and the beating of her heart. She’s been hit, but her pulse is strong. I keep my focus in front of me as I grab one man by the arm and twist sharply. The crack is loud, and he starts to scream as he drops to the floor. I wrap my fingers around the back of the other man’s head, pulling him toward me and slamming my forehead into his nose. Blood erupts, covering my arm as he punches my gut ineffectively. With my hand still around the back of his neck, I punch his throat, collapsing his trachea.

He drops next to his still-screaming comrade. He claws at his throat, and I stomp my foot into his face, smashing his skull. Dropping the chair leg, I grab the other man by the head and twist. Another crack echoes in the hall, and his body goes limp.

A second later, I am at Riley’s side.

“My leg!” Riley looks up at me. She pulls her hand away, revealing blood.

There’s a gash in her calf where the bullet grazed her. It’s not life-threatening but definitely painful. If it’s not treated, chances of infection are high. I will need to find medication for her and get her to a safe location. Her injury is going to slow us down, and I have to recalculate every potential action we might take to compensate.

“I don’t know if I can walk.”

I pause and listen for additional footsteps, but I hear nothing. The gunfire hasn’t attracted anyone yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Somewhere far ahead of us, I can hear other shots, but there is no immediate threat.

Crouching next to her, I reach up and touch the side of her face.

“I’ve got you, Riley,” I tell her. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

I slip my arms under her legs and behind her back, lifting her up. I make sure she’s well balanced and hanging on before I squat down and retrieve the table leg. Riley directs me down another hall, through some doors, and past a large conference room. Still, we encounter no one.

The facility is so large. How can there be no one else here?