Love in an Undead Age - A.M. Geever (love story novels in english .TXT) 📗

If that damn boat had been intercepted twenty-four hours later, I’d be doing this at the same time as the system upgrade, Mario thought. He was over ninety percent sure that running the program during the upgrade would go undetected; now his chances were fifty-fifty. He retrieved four square, red insulated vial carriers that looked like padded lunch boxes with long straps from a supply cabinet and headed for the freezer.

Mario stuck the thumb drive into the computer workstation next to the freezer door. He realized he was holding his breath. He exhaled, waited a moment for his rib to not hurt so much, and clicked the “Execute” button. He keyed in his access code, placed his palm on the hand scanner, and leaned into the retina scanner. A discreet beep indicated that the door had unlocked. Misty condensation swirled and enveloped him as the warmer air of the lab collided with the frigid air of the freezer.

The refrigerated room was a sleek version of a meat locker. Mario went directly to the first serum cabinet where he again entered codes and submitted to scans before swinging the doors open. On every shelf sat row upon row of squat vials stored in pressure sensitive holders that automatically triggered the inventory system when removed. Removing a vial without a request from an authorized user sent the entire building into lockdown. The program he had loaded onto the freezer workstation would assign his request to someone else with access to the BSL-1 lab and change the palm and retina scan logs to match. That was the idea, anyway. Right now, every code and scan correctly indicated that Mario Santorello was in the lab removing the serum. The only upside about that was his access and authorization codes were still working, which meant the Council had not connected the dots yet.

I should deal with the guards to give us more time. The program can’t take care of them. Mario tried to ignore the leaden feeling that settled on his chest. Those men probably had wives, children—

It can’t be helped. Don’t think about it.

Mario grasped vial after vial with fingers made clumsy from the cold even though they only needed one vial to synthesize a vaccine that could then be replicated. The rush of warm air that greeted him as he left the freezer came as a welcome relief. Mario checked the computer workstation again. The program was still running. He could not stick around to see if it would work.

Slowly, he raised the carrier straps over his head. It hurt. She’ll be the death of me… Of all the days to fracture my goddamned ribs. As he walked across the room, the carriers bumped against his back. That hurt too.

He paused at the door that opened to the corridor and almost took a deep breath before he remembered that was a bad idea. He squeezed his eyes shut.

St. Jude, please, if you’ve never heard me before, hear me now. Help me get out of here. Help me get the serum to Walter. I know I don’t deserve your help, but I’m not asking for myself.

He opened the door.

Pass the guards, walk fifteen feet, get through the next door.

Simple, but Mario felt like he was in one of those dreams where he ran and ran, but the hallway only got longer.

The first door clicked shut behind him.

Pass the guards, walk fifteen feet, get through the next door.

The guards were looking at him. Had they ever done that before? He had no idea; he had never paid attention. Their scrutiny made him certain they were toying with him before they pounced.

The second door clicked shut.

Pass the guards, walk fifteen feet, get through the next door.

Mario grasped the handle of the last door when red lights began to flash. Sirens wailed. He heard the snick of the automatic lockdown deadbolts and the scrape of chairs pushed back hastily. He turned around. Through the glass walls, he saw the other security teams checking consoles and making phone calls. His heart plummeted into his bowels.

I’m fucked.

“What’s the problem?” he asked.

“I’m not sure, sir,” the guard at the computer console answered. He ceased tapping on keys to look at Mario, then bit his lip and ran a hand over his buzz-cut hair.

Just being in the same room with me freaks them out.

It wasn’t much, but he would take any advantage he could get. Perhaps the Patron Saint of Lost Causes had not forsaken him.

“We don’t have much information, sir.” Buzz Cut continued, “Just a lockdown order. I’m sure we’ll have it cleared up in a minute.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Mario said. “Open the door.”

The second guard, who was talking on the phone, ended his conversation mid-word. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

“I have a pressing—” Mario began, then scowled. “I don’t need to explain myself to you. Open the door.”

“You know we can’t do that, sir,” the second guard said. He set the phone receiver down but did not hang it up. “We have to wait for the lockdown order to be lifted.”

Mario looked at the man, eyes flint-hard. He walked to the desk and hung up the phone receiver.

“I’m not interested in what you can’t do. Use your override codes and open the door.”

The man shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Buzz Cut watched Mario and his colleague warily.

“I’m sorry—” the man started to say again, but Mario cut him off.

“If you don’t open that door right now, I will have the residency permits of your family revoked.”

Mario’s fury was genuine. If he didn’t get out that door he was doomed. This minute delay could derail years of planning. If they failed now, they would never get another chance. All the anguish and pain he had caused, the oceans of blood on his hands, would be for nothing.

Both guards blanched. Their terror at the idea of living outside the safety of the City’s walls was palpable.

Buzz Cut’s hand shook as he bent over the security keypad in the center of the desk. “I’m keying in my override code now, sir.”

Buzz Cut’s partner looked at him in disbelief. “You can’t do that!”

“Just enter your code,” Buzz Cut snapped. “He’s the boss.”

“Are you out of your mind? There’s still the rest of the Council to answer to!”

Buzz Cut seemed to appraise his partner for a moment, then pulled his sidearm and pointed it at the man’s head.

“Enter your code. I have kids, for Christ’s sake!”

His partner froze. “You cannot be serious.”

“Do it.”

Mario could see the other security teams gesticulating to one another. The unfolding drama had attracted their attention. The phone on the desk in front of him began to ring. Dull thumps emanated from the bulletproof glass that separated this checkpoint from the next, but whatever the man pounding on the wall shouted was drowned out by the alarm klaxons. The recalcitrant guard, now held hostage, glanced through the glass to the others.

Despite the noise, all three men heard the soft but ominous click when Buzz Cut switched off his gun’s safety. “I won’t ask again.”

Without a word, the other guard turned and punched in his override code. The door unlocked.

Mario turned on his heel and left, shutting the door behind him. He had three minutes of automatic lockout before they could override again. He headed for the stairwell next to the elevator, willing himself not to run, then abandoned the pretense the moment he was through the doors. He took the steps two at a time, groaning at the pain from his fractured ribs. He fitted the suppressor to his M9 pistol as the shrieks of the alarms reverberated and echoed off the stairwell’s concrete walls.

Mario cracked the stairwell door open and heard voices approaching. He stepped back behind it. A moment later the door opened. Four Council Security Officers stormed through and down the stairs without even clearing the area.

Thank you, St. Jude.

Mario waited until the man on point had almost reached the landing before he fired.

Tiny hisses and the first two men were down before their companions realized what was happening. Mario shot the third through the throat as he turned. The last man, the one closest to him, managed to turn completely around. The boom of his weapon made the din in the stairwell unbearable. He too went down, but not before Mario felt a bullet bite into his arm.

He couldn’t go out to the corridor now. Even with the alarms wailing, the security detail at the entrance would hear the gunfire. Mario lurched up the stairs, desperately trying to formulate an escape.

The laundry!

Lab coats and scrubs were washed on site. There was a chute on the second-floor landing that went directly to the laundry on the ground floor, one story below where he entered the building. Hope energized him. He sprinted up the last fifteen steps. The stairwell door below him opened with a dull thunk.

Mario dove for the chute and tumbled headlong. He tried to slow his descent by pushing his arms and legs against the sides but was hampered by his injured arm. He tucked his head as he landed atop a pile of blue scrubs. White-hot bolts of pain radiated from his bicep and side. Blood ran down his wrist and seeped through his coat sleeve.

Still have my gun.

He staggered to his feet and set off for the loading dock, grabbing a clean pair of scrubs from a stack of folded laundry on an industrial-sized cart. He slowed down as he got closer to the loading dock, then stopped and listened. The area appeared deserted, but he would not