Everyone files past me out of the office and down the stairs. I gather my things and follow them. As we reach the floor, we all stop and look around. The place looks like a slaughterhouse. There’s a sea of blood on the floor, with severed limbs scattered all around us.
“Holy mother of God…” whispers Raynor.
I have to admit, even I’m a little shocked at the aftermath. It’s been a long time since my Inner Satan was in a fight, and I’ve forgotten what it was like.
“Watch where you’re walking,” says Josh. “No footprints in the blood if you can help it — we need to minimize how much forensic evidence we leave.”
We follow him across the room, navigating the human debris like it’s a minefield. Eventually, we make it to the other side and head back out the fire exit to the parking lot. There are six blacked-out SUVs parked haphazardly by the doors. Thankfully, there are no more men. I head over to the nearest one and climb in behind the wheel. There’s a console fitted on the dash, level with the gap between the two front seats. I tap the screen to bring up the HUD.
“What you got?” asks Josh, appearing beside me.
“I just killed a whole bunch of NSA agents, it seems,” I announce. “Fuck…”
“NSA, CIA… this is real heavy, Adrian. What you thinking?”
I look at him, fixing him with a determined stare. “We split up. We’ll deactivate the tracking devices in two of these SUVs and head off in opposite directions. See if you can set up a secure line between the two vehicles, so we can keep in touch without giving our position away. From here on out, we’re at our most paranoid. We stay off the grid until we figure out a way to get to Pripyat.”
Josh nods and walks back over to Clark and Raynor, telling them the plan. I look back at the console. Let’s see what the NSA have to say for themselves…
I click through a couple of basic screens. There are search functions for license plates and descriptions, as well as the ability to upload photos via Bluetooth. I type in GlobaTech and hit the search button. After a few moments, the screen fills with information. I feel my eyes go wide the more I read.
“Guys,” I shout over. “You might want to take a look at this.”
They all walk over to the vehicle. Clark stands next to the driver’s door with Raynor just behind him. Josh climbs in next to me.
“I’ve searched for you guys on the NSA’s database,” I explain. “And it’s come up with a whole lot of bullshit. According to this, the NSA thinks GlobaTech are funding terrorism. They’ve had orders handed down from their director to seize all of your assets as per Title 18 of the U.S. Code. I’m quoting here—‘…all domestic employers are to be questioned, with priority focus on the following high-ranking employees and directors: Robert Clark, Josh Winters, and Ryan Schultz. These people are to be detained…’ You boys are famous.”
“This is bullshit,” says Clark. “Who’s running this investigation for the NSA? How can they think we’re funding terrorism? We’re working our asses off trying to stop it!”
“Well, somebody obviously forgot to tell them that,” I observe. “Forgive the potentially stupid question here, but why can’t you just tell whoever cares that you’re trying to help? Explain what we’ve learned and what we’ve been doing?”
“It’s a nice idea, in theory,” says Josh, rubbing his temples. “But at the end of the day, we’ve known since New York that there’s more to this than just a terrorist group plotting an attack. We don’t know who we can trust outside of our company. Schultz is running interference with the NSA, trying to clear our name without giving our game away. But now we’ve just killed over twenty government agents, all of that is irrelevant. We’re going to be one-through-four on everyone’s Top Ten Most Wanted List in about half an hour.”
“You guys didn’t kill anyone,” I say.
“We know that, Adrian — but we were there when you did, so as far as the law is concerned, we all pulled the trigger. Besides, it doesn’t matter who did what — we’re all in this together.”
I turn to Clark and Raynor. “You two, take a vehicle and get the hell out of here. Just pick a direction and drive. Contact us in six hours.”
They both nod without another word, knowing it’s the only option.
I turn to Josh. “Deactivate the tracking devices for us right away, then we’re gonna go in the opposite direction to these two.”
He gets out of the vehicle and fiddles under the hood of our SUV, and the one nearest to us for a few minutes. Then he shakes Clark’s hand and gets back in next to me. He looks at me with concern in his eyes.
“What are we going to do, Boss?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Long term? I don’t know,” I reply. “But right now, you just need to figure out how to get me into Pripyat. I’ll take it from there.”
He nods back at me. “Working on it,” he says. “Now let’s go — we need to stop off somewhere along the way.”
“Where?” I ask, as I start up and drive out of the parking lot, turning left as Clark and Raynor turn right.
Josh simply smiles at me.
He worries me when he does that.
24
The stop off he was referring to was in Kansas City, Missouri — about six hours north of Jonesboro. The weather changed many times on the journey, ranging from blinding sunshine to torrential rain. As we hit the city limits it’s somewhere in between the two — reasonably bright skies but raining lightly.
The trip passed quickly enough. We spent much of the first hour in silence, paying professional attention to our surroundings, on the lookout for any tails or government presence. Having not seen any, we came off the I-40 near Alma and hit the I-49, which we took all the way to Kansas. By the time we arrived, we were back into the old routine — banter, joking, blasting music, and generally catching up on the last two years since we’d parted company.
After navigating my way through the busy city following Josh’s directions, I pull into a warehouse complex just outside the center that houses long-term storage units. There are three main buildings forming a U-shape in front of us. The one directly ahead is wider than the ones either side of us, with large roller shutter doors on each unit, with a smaller door cut into each one. On the left and right, the buildings are narrower, with larger units.
“Here we are,” says Josh, as I pull up.
We both get out, stretch, and I look around curiously.
“What are we doing here?” I ask.
Josh sets off walking to the building on the right. “Contingency plan,” he shouts back over his shoulder. “Come on.”
I follow him, confused and intrigued in equal measure, up to one of the roller doors — the second from the left. He produces a key from his pocket, removes the padlock, and then steps to the side where a keypad is fixed to the wall.
Impressive security, for a regular storage firm…
He enters his code and presses a button, and the shutters start to roll up automatically. He turns; smiling at me with a glint of excitement in his eye, as the door disappears slowly upward, revealing what’s inside. It doesn’t take me long to realize what it is, and I fail to suppress a laugh of disbelief.
“You’re kidding me?” I ask as I look at Josh’s Winnebago standing before me.
“Didn’t have much use for it when I took the job with GlobaTech,” he explains. “But I knew I’d need it at some point so kept it here — independent, anonymous location, no one knows about it but me, and I pay cash up front and in advance for the storage, so there are no electronic footprints for the payments.”
I pat him on the shoulder as I walk inside the unit to inspect the vehicle. “You’re something else, Josh.”