Frightened Boy - Scott Kelly (ebook reader with android os .txt) 📗

though the music was coming from the palms of my hands.

Through the swirling funhouse mirror of my vision, I saw Lux’s jeep bounce up the steps and directly into the center of the armed men. He jumped from it, standing with his earphones around his neck.

The effect it had on the officers in front of Tasumec Tower was the same as it had on me; those that could still stand dropped their guns to clutch their heads. Whisper began firing rhythmic shots at the fallen men, executing each of them in succession from left to right.

Finally, Lux pulled the headphones up onto his ears. The relief was instant—my skull ached from the pressure; my arms ached from the exertion.

Whisper turned and motioned us to follow her. Erika and I jogged after her as she continued to walk toward the glass doors to the Tower. With one hand at the door, she lifted a hand to her mouth. "Proceed," she said into a slim black walkie-talkie. "The tower is clear."

Then she turned to Lux. “What are you doing?” Voice a vicious rasp. “Did Escher send you?”

“I thought you might need help,” Lux said, shrugging.

“What the hell, Lux?! Get back to Escher! For once, follow some fucking orders!”

I stood sheepishly to her side, awkward party to this mess. The pool of blood forming beneath the pile of dead cops was seeping up to my shoe, so I stepped away.

“I thought…” he paused. “Never mind,” he finished, turning around and stepping into the jeep. It was apparent from his expression, his feelings were hurt.

Erika opened her mouth. I tugged on her hand to keep her quiet.

“Idiot,” Whisper hissed. She pointed us toward the glass doors.

“Get us in.”

I gulped. The security doors would be locked, but hopefully codes wouldn’t have changed from the last time I’d been here. It’d be another two weeks before that happened.

I moved shakily up to the keypad and entered in the six-button sequence that would let us access the tower. I sighed in relief as I heard the locks click open.

Whisper held the door for us as we stepped inside.

*

Two security guards had their guns ready, aimed at Whisper as a greeting. She fired her revolver through the folds of her cloak, hand covered completely by the giant sleeve. The guards fell before firing their weapons.

Tasumec Tower was still in full swing; everyone had arrived for the workday. I knew the standard operating procedure for the tower well. I’d spent years here. Workers would be told to stay in their offices, and the local out-of-shape security personnel would be in the hallways outside, posted on each floor. The elevators would be locked down, but I could override that.

I led Whisper and Erika to the service elevator and entered a separate code—a security master code I’d been issued—and we were granted access. Whisper steeped inside first; Erika and followed nervously. I punched the button that would lead us directly to the floor of the security center and to my old office. The fiftieth floor, in the heart of the building.

I shared glances with Erika as we shot up the center of the building. Whisper was statuesque; lips pressed tightly together, hands held out in front of her, gun readied beneath the cloak. .

A friendly ding let us know we’d arrived. The doors slid open to reveal an empty corridor; security would have been dispatched from here to the floors occupied by tenants. I led the way to my old office, where I’d sat for years and watched countless hours of footage, helping to coordinate security for the building.

A lump formed in my throat as I stood outside the old door to my office. Whisper shot through the lock and kicked it open. Inside, a man in his forties that didn’t look too much unlike me was cowering in his chair, his hands in the air.

“Don’t!” he shouted as Whisper shot him in the head. She dragged his body out through the hallway and into a nearby bathroom; a slick, thick swatch of blood tracked his progress.

Of all the death I’d seen since this started, somehow this death disturbed me most. My nameless replacement could have been me just as easily as it was him; he’d just met the wrong Stranger at the wrong time.

“You, get the elevators running to the top floor. Lock all the doors you can except the front entrance and tell me when Escher is in the lobby.”

I nodded, hands sweat-slicked and heart pounding. I stepped around the corpse at my work station, leaning over his body, careful not to get any of his blood on me.

“And you, girl,” Whisper said. “Where is the footage of Escher?”

“In that desk,” she said. “Behind the drawer. I put it there when Clark brought me to see his office one day.”

Escher appeared on the lobby monitor, with Mal and a dozen Strangers I couldn’t name. “Escher’s here,” I said. “In the lobby, moving to the elevator.”

Whisper ripped the shelf from the desk; the heavy aluminum tray flew back against the wall, narrowly missing Erika, who yelped and jumped back. The senior Stranger reached in, felt around, retrieved something. The hard drive.

“Good,” she said.

“So we’re good now? We know she’s not the spy?”

“How do you lock the front doors?” Whisper asked. I stared. “Now that Escher is inside. To keep him from getting flanked.”

“He’ll be trapped,” I warned.

“Just show me.”

I clicked through the tower’s security software. “This is it,” I told her. “You want me to do it?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes,” she said.

I pressed the button. When I turned back, I saw Erika’s eyes wide.

Whisper walked to the phone, picked it up. Pressed zero. “Connect me to suite 820.” A pause. Then: “Okay, they’re yours.” She hung up.

“What the fuck was that?” Erika asked. “What are you doing?”

“I’m giving Escher to Little Brother, to keep him from destroying Banlo Bay,” Whisper said, and pointed her gun at Erika.

My heart stopped. The spy. Whisper is the spy.

The concept grew within my mind even as my body was torturously slow to react.

And then, somewhere miles beneath my placid yellow sea of cowardice, there burst a tiny bubble of red, red anger. That bubble rose to the top, threatening to break the surface, burst, and paint the entire waters red.

I grabbed Whisper by the shoulders and shoved her backwards. Her firing arm trapped underneath mine; she fired a bullet into the wall behind me.

Erika ran. “Clark, come on!”

Whisper shoved me back; I stumbled against the wall, feet in front of me. lot stronger than I’d expected.

“There’s no reason to run, Clark Horton. There’s no reason to fight, either. It’s over. Just lay down, take a rest. Think about what you’ve done.”

Whisper’s voice was a thousand voices in my ears. She was right, there was no reason to go on—there was no point, Escher was trapped now in the center of Banlo Bay and he’d be killed, and then I’d be killed, and Erika would be—

“—Clark!” Erika shouted. “Come on!”

I blinked. Whisper’s grip on me was gone. I could sense bullshit.

I shoved Whisper back against the wall, both hands deep in the leather of her trench coat, then darted down the hallway and snatched a confused Erika by the wrists, pulling her to the elevators. I stopped at the number pad to enter in the code that would let us get the hell out of there.

“Clark, open this fucking thing!”

I fumbled with the numbers. I tried again, but my hands were shaking so badly that I couldn’t enter it in.

“Just tell me the code,” Erika demanded, exasperated. I told her; she entered in the numbers with nimble fingers. God I love her.

As I dove into the elevator, a shot rang out. Whisper stood at the end of the hallway, pistol raised, cloaking still billowing out to her left as she’d just turned the corner, revealing black stiletto heels and black skirt.

Erika Bronton’s body slumped forward lifelessly, a foot from the elevator, just as the doors closed.

Lavender or lilac or something.

I watched as a lock of her hair slid up between the cracks of the doors, pulled from her body as I traveled to safety, tears already streaming down from my eyes.

Heroics were a luxury.

*

My mind reeled. I took deep breaths between sobs to try and calm myself, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

I sniffed back a face full of tears. I’d lost Erika; this hardly seemed to matter. Still, Whisper was not far behind. She’d have to take the stairs, and if I didn’t want to die as well, I had to run.

I was good at running.

She orchestrated a way to get Escher, his generals, and almost all of the Secret Society of Strangers in one place at one time.

What can you possibly do to help?

I don’t know. The door’s about to open. Lace up your shoes, Clark. It’s time to run. You’ve got to warn Escher, or else Erika died for no reason at all.

Ding.

*

Bullets streaked by the elevator entrance; a body collapsed at my feet. Still, had to find Escher. Had to let him know what happened.

When I looked closer at the dead Stranger on the ground, I realized it was someone I knew. Sort of. Someone I could barely remember, but I must have—

Sam. It was Sam’s ordinary, forgettable corpse at my feet.

So much death. Couldn’t even miss him, not in the shadow of Erika. Couldn’t lose it now, had to hold it together. Had to find Escher.

I peeked out the elevator. Policemen stood in formation behind riot shields, assault rifles drawn. They controlled the entrance to the tower, the only exit that remained unlocked.

The Strangers were pinned against the far side of the lobby, trapped there, and I stood between a barrage of gunfire.

Still, had to act. Couldn’t let Escher die, couldn’t let Erika die for nothing.

Deep breath. C’mon, Clark.

I ran. Feet pounded the smooth linoleum floor, heard bullets—no, felt bullets fly past like angry insects. Dove to cover, behind one of the thick stone walls of the lobby. Turned and found Escher standing in the open, machine gun in hand, constant rat-a-tat punctuating the calamity, the loudest drum being banged.

“Escher! It’s a trap.”

“No shit,” he shouted back. Furious look on his face. For the first time since I’d met him, he was bleeding, cut across his arms and forehead.

I yelled again, back pressed against the cold stone of the lobby:

“Whisper is the spy. You’ve been set—”

Escher dropped the gun, spun around, and grabbed me by the throat before I could finish my sentence. I felt myself flying backwards toward the side of the nearest building; I crashed into it with his hand still