CA Chapter Forty-one (Patreon)

None of the security stations were manned, but they really didn’t need to be, since the doors they were guarding couldn’t be opened anyway. Instead, all of the people who would have been watching the doors were instead wandering the halls. Ava had noticed that there were a ridiculous number of security personnel in Carl Landon’s personal palace, but she hadn’t realized just how true that observation was. When she zoomed her map out, she counted thirty red dots strewn across the map, and at least another twenty clustered in and around the lab and office area.

“Damn it,” she muttered as she spun off into another of what seemed to be a great number of small offices. The closer she got to the hospital wing, the more guards there were, and the thicker the smoke grew. She had torn a strip from a curtain a few hallways back, and wrapped it over her nose and mouth, which helped a little, though her eyes were beginning to water from the fumes.

Two more guards passed her, and though one gave the room she was in a quick pass with his light, he didn’t bother to poke his head in. “If there were intruders, wouldn’t they be looking harder?” Ava asked as the guards vanished down the hall, speaking barely loud enough for the vibrations of her voice to be picked up by her implants. “They act like they’re looking for stragglers, not armed invaders. I don’t think George’s people did this, Amythyst.”

“I think you’re right,” Amythyst admitted reluctantly. “Which just means Amy has probably already been evacuated. She’d be the first priority for anyone working in the med lab when the fire started. I wish I could see what’s going on,” she added, sounding frustrated. “Why the hell don’t they have a backup generator for the cameras? For that matter, why are they sweeping the halls? Everyone here has implants, so other than a few people the app doesn’t track for security reasons, they should know where every single person in this house is. Hide!”

At the spike of urgency in the last word, Ava spun around, darted through a door she had just passed and dove behind a couch, shaking her light off. As yet another set of guards passed by the open door, Amythyst continued, sounding worried. “Ava, the only person they wouldn’t be able to find is you. Everyone should be at their gathering places by now, and if they take roll, they’re going to notice you’re not there and report you missing. All these guards? They’re looking for you.”

Ava gritted her teeth, looking down at her screen again, then thumbed it off as two more dots approached. A man coughed loudly. “This crap is bad for our lungs,” he grumbled. “They should let us evacuate with everyone else. This stupid, huge house is empty. Someone just miscounted, or the girl’s app glitched, or something. Remember when we lost that cook for two hours last month and Emma nearly pulled Mike’s intestines out through his nose when she realized the kid was in the walk-in refrigerator doing inventory and he missed him when he checked the kitchen?”

A raspy female voice answered. “Yes, and I remember what happened when Carson told her he thought she was overreacting, too.” The woman coughed. “You wanna go tell her you can’t do your job because of a little smoke?”

The voices faded as the two guards moved away, but Ava and Amythyst had heard enough. “Ava,” Amythyst insisted, “you need to get out. Between whatever set Veralt off, and you turning up missing, nothing good is going to happen if they find you. I can guide you off property, but you need to leave. Now.”

Ava stood, barely managing to control a coughing fit of her own.  “No way. Not until I know Amy is safe,” she said, stubbornly. She was a little lightheaded, but she knew she needed to keep moving, so she headed deeper into the haze of smoke that now filled the halls.

“Ava,” Amy said, her voice distant as Ava’s ears began to ring. “Ava!”

Ava shook her head, chasing away the fog that threatened to fill her brain. Ahead of her, she saw the back entrance to the lab. This wasn’t the door she usually used, in a relatively straight line from the servant’s wing, nor was it the door that led directly into Carl Landon’s private wing. No, this was a broad door in a short hallway that was probably used for deliveries, since it was fairly close to the kitchens and another wide door that led out onto part of the driveway that wrapped around the side of the mansion where the garages and the maintenance buildings were tucked away.

“Ava, if you turn left here, there’s an exit at the end of the hall.” Amythyst’s voice continued, though Ava barely noticed. Her world had narrowed to the swinging double-doors that the map said led to her goal. It was only fifty feet away, maybe less. It was hard to tell distance in the perpetual fog. She could hear the fire now, too. It crackled loudly somewhere nearby, and occasionally something would pop as flames encountered a lingering pocket of moisture that the heat turned into an expanding cloud of steam.

She wiped at the sweat that trickled into her eyes, and staggered, bumping into the wall beside the door. Reaching out, she trailed her fingers over the wall, which felt hot against her skin. “Follow the right-hand wall,” she muttered, and closed her eyes, crouching as she stumbled deeper into the smoke. Distant words tried to intrude into her consciousness, but they weren’t loud enough to overcome the crackle of the flames and the thudding of her heart.

Her fingertips touched the hot metal of the door hinges, and she almost laughed as she realized that getting through would have been simple if she’d just thought to bring the screwdriver and hammer. But she’d left them behind, so she’d have to do this the hard way. Tracing her fingers to the seam between the two doors, she fixed the spot in her mind and backed up a step.

The weakest part of a double door had to be the middle, where the doors met, right? Especially if the doors were meant to swing either way with equal ease. She stood straight, holding her breath so she wouldn’t take in any more smoke than necessary, and peered out from slitted eyes, focusing on the dim blur of the latching mechanism. How many times had she seen the police - or someone far more unsavory - do this at her apartment building? It didn’t even look that hard.

Lifting one leg, she slammed the flat of her foot just above the latch, staggering back from the force of the blow. She couldn’t hear anything except a thud, but she thought maybe the door gave slightly beneath the impact. Ducking down low, into the clearer space below the hanging cloud of smoke, she gasped for breath, then coughed, the sound harsh and painful. Ignoring the aching of her throat and lungs, she took another deep breath and stood, this time planting her left foot slightly behind the other, digging her heel into the ground. Feeling steadier, she lifted her right leg again, and kicked out as hard as she could, trying to aim for the space behind the door, rather than the door itself.

With a crack, the door split. The latch still clung to the other door, while the one she’d hit swung in and bounced back again, almost hitting Ava as she staggered again, this time stumbling a few steps forward. She felt the broken wood of the door scrape against her side, and for half a second, her oxygen-starved brain was surprised not to see a damage notification appear in the air in front of her.

Nothing happened, of course, except that she took two steps into the hallway beyond the door and fell to her knees, then collapsed to the floor, her lungs desperately trying to pull in enough of the relatively clean air. With a shaky arm, she lifted her screen, thumbing on the light so she could see that she was in a back hall of the hospital wing. None of the rooms here were marked, but this had to be where the offices and storage rooms were located, since they weren’t near the main corridor that led to Amy’s rooms, the exam rooms, or the bathroom and locker area.

Forcing herself to her hands and knees, she realized that even the floor was hot, stinging her scraped palms, though her pants provided enough insulation that her knees only felt warm. The canopy of smoke had lowered another foot when she broke through into this area, and even if she could continue her crouching walk, that wouldn’t keep her face out of the gray fog any more. Instead, she crawled.

Hand. Knee. Hand. Knee. Hand. Knee. Hand. She shuffled forward, watching the screen, dim through the fog, until she came to a door. She reached up. Tried it. Locked.

Hand. Knee. Hand. Knee. Hand. Knee. Hand.

Another door. Locked.

Locked.

Locked.

She was approaching the area she knew. Soon, she would have to try to break down another door. Unless maybe she could find a screwdriver and a hammer? A nail file and a book?

She laughed, a choked sound she only heard because it echoed in her head. Or maybe she didn’t hear it? Maybe that was the fire, laughing at her. Laughing because she thought she could defeat it, a primordial force.

A searingly hot doorknob turned beneath her fingers. The door opened. There was light. She gathered her strength and threw herself inside, into relatively clean, well-lit, smoke-free air. She gasped.

Something hit her side, rolling her body out of the way as someone slammed the door shut. The sound of the fire, all-consuming, was forced back, muffled into a distant howl.

“Damn it,” someone muttered. “How did she get here?” Another blow, and she instinctively curled up, protecting her soft middle, her vulnerable organs. Someone was kicking her. It hurt, but she could breathe, and the pain was nothing compared to the blessed relief of pulling clean, clear air into her abused lungs.

The fog in her mind cleared with the return of oxygen, and she could hear Amythyst’s frantic voice. “Open your eyes! Ava! Open your eyes! I can’t see what’s going on!”

“Stop that,” came another voice, this one further away, cold and disinterested. “Get back over here and help me.”

With one last, vicious strike, a toe digging deep into Ava’s hip, the beating stopped, and Ava blinked open painful, dry eyes. For a moment, she thought she might have managed to blind herself, but a hazy image slowly formed. Brown. A lighter brown. A brown door, since she had rolled away from the painful kicks. The lighter brown was the floor, and she couldn’t make out details, but from the feel of it beneath her, it was carpet, not wood. Wooden door. Tan carpet.

Behind her, she heard the cold voice again. “Get that box. It’s the last one.”

Sounds came from behind her, and she let her head roll toward the sound. Blinking. Blinking.

Two figures swam into focus. Veralt, sitting at his desk, cleaning it out. Quinn, standing nearby, holding a blue box.

Blue? Not cardboard. Plastic? Metal?

Quinn carried the box over to a small handcart already piled with other, similar containers. He stacked this one on top of the others and began attaching them to the cart with elastic cables. When he was finished, he pushed the cart out of the way, toward another door, on the opposite wall. As the cart moved, Ava found herself staring into the unconscious face of the woman she had come to save.

Amy.

Ava opened her mouth. “W… Why?” She was as surprised by the sound as the two men.

Veralt looked up, eyebrows rising in the most genuine expression she’d ever seen on his face. Surprise. He tilted his head toward her, though his eyes moved to Quinn.

“She’s more aware than I thought. Put her with Amy.” His lips shifted into their natural sneer. “They can find them together. The dedicated nurse, trying to save her patient even to the last.”

Quinn snorted, but obeyed, moving over to set his hands around Ava’s ankles, dragging her roughly toward Amy’s prone form. When he got them close enough, he dropped Ava’s legs, letting them thud onto the other woman’s body, though Ava couldn’t turn her head to see where they’d hit. Couldn’t see, and couldn’t keep it from happening. She felt like she was floating. Like her body belonged to someone else, and she was outside of it, trying to possess it. Like a ghost.

Veralt stood, patting the monitor on his desk like it was an animal he was fond of. “Too bad I have to leave all this behind,” he sighed. “It was a top of the line system. Still, with the money I’ll make from selling all of Bridget and Veritas Corp’s precious tech, I can buy a thousand just like it.”

Quinn shoved Ava’s foot with his own. “We. We’re going to sell. I know all your dirty little secrets, old man.” His voice held a sneer. “You never could have done this without me. I’m due a share of the money.”

“Oh,” Veralt says. “You’re right. I almost forgot.” He stepped away from the desk, leaving Ava’s line of sight, and there was a loud, meaty crunch she recognized from playing Veritas Online. Something hard striking flesh, but specifically, flesh laid lightly over bone, which had broken. Something heavy fell across her and a male hand intruded into her view as an arm thumped against the carpet. It twitched, and then fell still.

“Hmm,” Veralt said, thoughtfully. “A little too hard, but that’ll do, I suppose. Two dedicated professionals, trying to help their patient. Such a shame.”

Something squeaked, and Amy’s body shifted beneath Ava’s legs. “Moron,” Veralt muttered. “You couldn’t put the girl somewhere she wasn’t in the way?” Grunting, he shifted Quinn’s body and then reached down, grabbing Ava’s underarms. He pulled, his thin arms straining, but managed to roll Ava over beside Quinn.

Oh.

Red stained the carpet beneath the man’s head, turning the unobtrusive tan to a deep reddish-brown. Quinn’s eyes were half open, staring glassily into space. She knew that look. Had seen it on her mother’s face, not that long ago. Not long enough.

“He’s dead,” Amythyst murmured, sounding as horrified as Ava felt. Bile rose into Ava’s mouth, spilling out onto the carpet, and she felt her body twitch as it tried to turn so she wouldn’t choke on the vile fluid.

Something fell onto Ava’s legs again. It was soft, but not as heavy as Quinn’s body had been. Not heavy at all, actually. A woman who has been living on IV fluids and a feeding tube, followed by minimal solid foods doesn’t weigh very much.

“I suppose I could answer your question,” Veralt says conversationally, as the wheels of the cart squeak and Ava spasms on the floor, wheezing. “But I don’t think I will. Honestly, it should be obvious to anyone who’s not an idiot. A fire can cover up so much. It really is very convenient. After all, there are a lot of very flammable things in hospitals. Buckets of hand sanitizer everywhere, along with gas cylinders, medical oxygen, and electrical sockets that are absolutely overloaded with equipment. A regular fire won’t burn bodies thoroughly enough to destroy DNA evidence, but a fire fueled by compressed oxygen and alcohol? Hmm.”

As the convulsions caused by her body attempting to clear her lungs died down, Ava found that she was beginning to regain control of her limbs. Her fingers twitched, and her leg jumped beneath Amy’s weight. Her neck muscles tightened, almost entirely intentionally, and her head rolled so she could see Veralt’s back as he tried to hold the door open and push the cart through it at the same time. He seemed to be having difficulty, since the door wanted to fall closed, its weight shoving the cart to the side.

Veralt glanced back.

“I should have left that idiot alive a little longer. He could have held the door.” He snorted a laugh. “Well, he still can, I suppose.” Coming back to the pile of bodies in the middle of his office, Veralt pulled at Quinn, then shook his head and dropped the man’s heavy arm. “Work smarter, not harder,” he muttered, sounding almost cheerful, and Ava felt Amy’s weight lift from her legs. She watched as Veralt hauled Amy over, using her legs to hold the door open.

Ava looked down at her own legs, now free of encumbrance, and shifted, starting to gather herself to move. Veralt’s back was turned. He was old. Older, anyway, and not in good shape. Surely she could take him, if she could get to him while he wasn’t looking.

“Don’t,” Amythyst said, making Ava jerk and lose focus, her legs falling back against the floor. “I called Felicia. And the police. And the fire department, because no one had contacted them yet, because Carl would rather see this place burn to the ground than let anyone official in here. And George’s people. And Bridget.” This last name was said with a mixture of emotions that Ava’s befuddled mind couldn’t pick apart.

“Let him go, Ava,” Amythyst went on, pleading now. “He won’t get away.  He’s already killed one person, and you need to save your strength so you can get out. Please.”

Veralt pushed the cart through the now-open door, then stopped and turned back once more. He crossed to Quinn’s body and leaned down, taking something from his own pocket. His screen. He tucked it into Quinn’s pocket instead and stood back up. Crossing to the door Ava had entered through, he turned the knob, ducking back behind the door as flames filled the room, blowing in like the inferno on the other side had belched a firestorm into the previously clear space. The roar of the conflagration filled Ava’s ears again, drowning out all other sound, even as smoke and ashes flowed in, drowning the light in darkness.

There was a flash of movement. Legs scurried by, bent as Veralt hurried away from the incoming smog and the greedy flames crossing the threshold behind him. Ava’s eyes began to burn, but she could see the cart move as Veralt pushed it away, into the room beyond the door. Gone.