Louis Collins: A Post-American Odyssey

Chapter 42

Louis woke to a metallic crash that shook the room and vibrated through his chest. Another burst followed, louder and closer. By the third, he recognized the sound as gunfire. A heavier weapon answered from farther away.

He tried to swallow. His mouth and throat were dry and raw. He was cold. His shoulders hurt, and his wrists hurt worse. Something hard pressed along his spine and against one shoulder blade. His head hung forward until he managed to lift it. His stomach turned. His vision blurred, cleared, then blurred again.

Another burst sounded outside, closer now. He tried to raise his hands and found them pinned high behind him. Plastic restraints secured his wrists around a thick metal pipe bolted between the floor and ceiling. Separate restraints bound his ankles to the same pipe below him. His neck throbbed where he had been punctured. He swallowed and tasted something stale and chemical.

He did not understand the cold until he looked down. He was naked. He stared down at himself, shivering. The concrete numbed his feet.

A folding medical tray stood nearby beneath a hanging work light. On it lay torn sterile packets, a capped syringe, cotton swabs stained pink at the ends, two sample tubes in a rack, a roll of medical tape, and discarded gloves turned inside out. Below the tray lay clothing that had been cut apart: dark fabric, cream fabric, a strip of silk, and a severed bra strap.

He turned his head and found Angelique was bound to another pipe nearby, her body pulled partly to one side by the restraints. She too was naked. Her hair had come loose and clung in damp strands to her neck and shoulders. A bruise had formed beneath one collarbone. A red mark crossed one thigh where it had rubbed against the pipe.

Seeing her like that cleared his head for a moment. Her head was lowered. He thought she was still out. Another burst shook the room. Angelique opened her eyes. She blinked several times before she managed to focus on him.

She tried to speak. Nothing came out at first. She swallowed and tried again.

“Louis.”

Her voice was raw and dry. He had never been so relieved to hear his own name.

“Angi. I am here.” He twisted his wrists against the restraints, but they did not give. “Are you hurt?”

She blinked and looked at him, then down at herself.

“Everywhere.” She forced out another word. “Cold.”

Before Louis could answer, another burst sounded nearby. It was closer. Dust fell from the ceiling. He looked toward the half-open door.

“Who—”

“I don’t know.” Her voice dropped. “Not them.”

He understood what she meant. Someone else had found the place. He pulled hard against the restraints. They cut deeper into his wrists, but the pipe did not move.

“Don’t waste yourself,” Angelique said. “You’ll hurt your wrists.”

Louis nodded and stopped struggling. The puncture in his neck throbbed with his pulse. His thoughts were clearer now, but his limbs still felt heavy and slow. His right hand, still swollen from the punch, throbbed against the restraint.

Metal struck metal beyond the doorway. Three shots followed, then shouting muffled by the concrete walls.

Angelique raised her head and listened. “Whoever they are, they’re not being quiet.”

A heavy impact sounded outside, followed by a short automatic burst that stopped abruptly. The sliding door shifted farther open. A dark figure crossed the opening, followed by another.

Louis said, “If this is them trying to kill us—”

“Then they would have left us dead.” Angelique’s voice was steadier now. “They didn’t leave us dead. That means they want us alive.”

“Why?”

“Listen.”

He listened. He could not make out words, only clipped commands. Boots struck concrete, and something scraped along the floor. Someone cursed. Then a sharp blast struck the door from the other side.

Angelique closed her eyes, then opened them. “They are coming.”

The door slammed open. White light filled the doorway. Two officers in black-and-blue tactical gear entered. The first crouched with his weapon raised. The second aimed over his shoulder.

A third officer wearing a vest marked with the Collective insignia pushed past them. Louis recognized Gladice before he saw her face. She kept her rifle raised and scanned the room. Then she saw Angelique and Louis. Her eyes moved to the restraints, the medical tray, the cut clothing, and the sample tubes. She narrowed her eyes.

“Well,” she said. “The cavalry’s here.”

One of the officers crossed to the door on the far side of the room, checked the service alcove beyond it, and signaled clear. Gladice went straight to Angelique. She let the rifle hang from its sling and drew a combat knife from her vest.

“Stay still,” she said, sawing through the plastic around Angelique’s wrists. “I’ll get your arms first.”

Angelique nodded and kept still.

Gladice moved behind her and cut through the restraints at her wrists, then crouched to free her ankles. Once free, Angelique pitched forward. Gladice caught her by the elbows and held her upright.

“Easy. The shit they put in you is still settling.”

Gladice looked across at Louis. “You’re next. Don’t move.”

She crossed to him and cut through the restraints at his wrists. His shoulders cramped as he brought his arms forward. When Gladice cut his ankles free, he lurched, and she caught him by the upper arm.

“Alright. Try to stand still.”

She hit the shoulder mic. “Command, Simington reports. Hostiles neutralized. Two principals recovered, both alive, need immediate evac.”

Gladice caught Angelique around the waist as she sagged. Angelique stumbled, then found her footing. One of the officers pulled a thermal blanket from his pack and wrapped it around her. She clutched it closed with one hand and reached for Gladice with the other. Gladice steadied her and looked past her at Louis.

“Can you walk?”

He tested his balance. He swayed, but stayed on his feet. One of the officers tossed him another blanket. It hit him in the chest, and he almost dropped it.

“You with me, sir?”

“Yeah.”

His own voice sounded dry and distant. Louis braced a forearm against the pipe, then pulled the blanket around his shoulders and waist with clumsy fingers. The thin material crackled in his hands.

Gladice keyed the mic again while one of the officers checked Angelique’s pupils with a penlight. “Both mobile with assistance. Send medics to outer lane, not in. I repeat, not in. We move them ourselves.”

Static cracked. A distorted voice answered too quickly for Louis to follow.

Gladice laughed. “Yes, I know the mayor will murder me if I lose them a second time. I’m working on it.”

Angelique pulled the blanket tighter around herself. “What happened?”

Gladice looked at her. “We’ll debrief once we get the hell out of here.”

As they moved toward the door, Louis saw a dead kidnapper slumped against the wall, one arm trapped beneath him and a pistol still in its holster. He broke from the group before anyone could stop him.

The blanket slipped from one shoulder as he crossed to the body and dropped into a crouch. His first reach missed the pistol grip. He swore, steadied the holster with his left hand, and drew with his right anyway.

“Louis,” Gladice said without turning, “that’s a terrible idea.”

He pulled the slide back far enough to see brass in the chamber. “I’ll live with it.”

Gladice looked at him, then nodded. “Stay near the wall. And if you see someone and don’t know who they work for, shoot before they do.”

Angelique stood with one hand against the pipe and the blanket pulled tight around her. Gladice drew her sidearm and handed it to her.

Louis stared. “You’re giving her your pistol?”

“I have a rifle,” Gladice said, moving toward the door. “Now shut up and follow me.”

One of the soldiers at the door stopped and raised a hand. “Movement,” he said.

The officer at the door dropped to one knee beside the jamb and listened. Then Louis heard it too: a heavy door slamming somewhere below, followed by the vibration of an engine.

The radio on the officer beside Gladice crackled. A strained voice came through the static.

“—secondary team, secondary team, they’ve got the dock—”

The radio burst into static and went silent.

“Of course they do.”

One of the officers at the far doorway turned back. “We need to move now.”

“Copy that.” Gladice looked at Louis and Angelique. “Both of you, with me. Keep to the wall. Do not—”

Automatic fire cut her off. Rounds struck the outer doorframe and threw splinters into the room. The officer at the entrance fired back, then ducked as more rounds tore through the gap.

“They’re inside the second corridor!” someone shouted from outside.

Gladice swore and keyed the mic. “Command. Secondary hostile team on site. Repeat, second team has entered the building. We are compromised. We need immediate overwatch.”

No answer came. Static filled the channel. Gunfire and shouting continued somewhere outside.

“Forget overwatch,” said the soldier nearest her. “We need a way out now.”

Gladice nodded. “North wall. The utility entrance. Go.”

The officer at the sliding door kept his rifle trained on the corridor while the others moved. Gladice took Angelique by the arm and pulled her toward the concrete wall, then reached back for Louis. Louis stumbled after them. He kept the pistol low in his swollen right hand while the blanket slipped around his legs.

One of the officers reached the utility door first and took position beside it. Before he could open it, a heavy impact struck the loading door on the far side of the room. The sheet metal bowed inward. A second impact drove it farther.

Louis looked toward the loading door.

“Shit,” Gladice said.

The third impact tore the lower latch free. Daylight showed through the opening, and diesel exhaust entered with it.

At the same time, a man rushed through the open sliding door. He wore dark body armor over local work clothes with the insignia removed, his weapon raised. The soldier at the entrance fired twice. The man went down. A second hostile fired from behind him and shot the soldier in the neck.

Gladice pushed Angelique behind a row of steel shelving, moved to the end of it, and fired into the doorway. “Move!”

Louis crouched and brought the pistol up in both hands. A man crossed the sliding doorway. Louis fired once and could not tell whether he hit him. Pain shot through his swollen right hand. Beside him, Angelique fired through a gap in the shelving.

One of the officers hauled a rolling archive cabinet across part of the opening. Bullets punched through its thin metal sides almost immediately.

“Back!” someone shouted.

“Not that way!” shouted someone else.

The loading door behind the shelving finally gave. It crashed inward, revealing part of a truck and several armed men forcing their way through from the service bay. They were under fire from both sides.

“Down!” Gladice fired toward the loading breach, then swung back and fired through the sliding doorway.

One of her officers tried to reach the next row of shelving. A burst caught him across the torso and dropped him dead at Louis’s feet. Louis fired again. The shot did not slow them. More men crowded through the doorway.

Angelique seized his sleeve and pulled him lower. A round struck the pipe above them.

“Stay down!”

He dropped to one knee beside her. Another officer was hit near the doorway and fell backward into the room. His rifle struck the floor beside him.

Gladice grabbed the webbing on his vest and dragged him behind the shelving. He did not respond. She released him and fired back through the doorway. Her shoulder mic crackled. Someone outside shouted her name before the signal broke into static.

“Gladice!” Louis shouted.

Gladice looked from one entrance to the other.

“New plan,” she said. “We are fucked.”

Before Louis could answer, she ran toward him and Angelique and drove them behind the central shelving. Rounds struck the floor and wall where they had been standing.

The pistol in Louis’s hand jammed. He pulled at the slide with his left hand, but it would not clear. The second team was inside the room. Several men held the sliding doorway while more forced their way through the damaged loading door. One pushed forward with a short rifle raised.

Gladice saw him and fired first. He fell. The man behind him kept coming. Angelique fired once. A round struck the shelf beside her and threw metal fragments and paper dust over them. She recoiled and lowered the pistol. The blanket slipped from one shoulder.

Louis lunged toward her. Gladice seized him by the upper arm and hauled him down. “Stay down, you fucking idiot!”

A man rushed her from the left between two shelving rows. Gladice swung the rifle into him. He knocked it from her hands, but she drove an elbow into his face and forced him back against the shelving.

A second man seized her from behind. He drove an injector into the side of her neck. Gladice jerked and looked back at him. Then she threw herself backward and drove him into the shelf upright. He grunted and lost his grip. Her knees buckled.

“Gladice—”

“Run.” She blinked hard, struggling to keep her eyes open.

The last officer on the far side kept firing, but the advancing men forced him back behind the shelving. Another officer lay on the floor. The hostiles blocked the sliding doorway.

Someone came at Louis. He raised both hands and tried to push him away, but there was little strength left in his arms. Another hostile wrenched Angelique’s arm behind her. She cried out and fought against the hold. Louis turned toward her.

A needle drove into the side of his neck before he could reach her. His knees gave way. Men seized him from both sides. Others forced Angelique down beside him.

Louis reached blindly in the direction of Angelique’s voice. His vision dimmed. Gladice was on her knees with one hand against the floor. Two men held her down, but she was still trying to stand. Then the world went away a second time.

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