John Krygelski - The Aegis Solution

Tillie, armed with the AK-47, positioned herself five or six feet away from Elias along the shelving, and cleared enough of the stored plumbing parts to provide a gun slot. “I wish we knew how many we were up against.”

“That makes two of us. I saw at least five or six. Doesn’t mean that was all of them.”

“I’m worried about the Zippers.”

“Roger that.”

Boehn was isolated. At his back was the opened exit door, which was completely blocked by the tangled mess of solar panels and twisted steel. In front of him was the open door to the utility room. The civilians had all been herded back to the far end of the hallway, and one of the security team was stationed with them. The rest of the team and the one remaining Accelerant were on the other side of the opening, waiting for instructions.

Boehn did not want to lose his last asset by sending the Accelerant into the room. Chances were, he would prevail, but there was always the possibility that some sort of trap had been set. After all, these three had foiled the Accelerants in the past. The beige-suited freak, as Boehn still thought of all of them, was in constant motion, twitching, shifting, and pivoting, even though he was standing still for instruction. They simply could not help it, he decided; it had been hard-wired into their being.

Making eye contact with Killeen, Boehn pulled a black marker out of his pocket. On the wall adjacent to the exit, he wrote TEAR GAS? The security chief nodded and turned to his men, sending one of them back to the armory.

“I wish there was a damn grille in here. Wilson could drop the rope to us and we’d be out and could get behind them.” Tillie’s voice was quiet.

Elias nodded. “That would be nice.”

“What do you think they are going to do?”

“If it were up to me, I’d send in gas, along with some flash bangs.”

“Flash bangs?”

“An armament you haven’t heard of? I’m surprised.”

“What are they?”

“Concussion grenades. Super loud, super bright. They stun you, blind you, temporarily disable you.”

“Shouldn’t we find something to protect ourselves against them?”

“Already thought of it. Here!” Elias turned and tossed a couple of small plastic packets to her.

She caught them and ripped one open. “Earplugs!”

“Yep. Pretty common on job sites. They use them to protect the hearing of workers during the loud stuff.”

“What about the flash part?”

Elias rested his shotgun on the shelf. “Keep an eye on the door.” She nodded, and he checked the adjacent shelves until he found what he wanted. Returning, he handed her a pair of dark goggles.

“I suppose construction workers need these in case someone throws a bright hand grenade.”

“No. These are for the workers who are around welding. Protects their eyes. And, here, take one of these.”

He handed her a painter’s respiration mask.

“Will this keep out tear gas?”

“No. Not really built for that purpose. It’s designed to keep out the fumes from enamel paint, but it should slow it down quite a bit.”

She grinned and slipped the mask over her face, its two filtered inlets causing her to look like a large insect.

“No reason to put it over your mouth until they send something in.”

She pulled it down so that it dangled around her neck by the straps.

“What about the goggles?”

“I’d put them on now. There wouldn’t be any warning with that.”

She shoved the bright orange earplugs in, donned the goggles, and picked up her rifle. “I feel silly.” She spoke too loudly, compensating for the earplugs.

“You shouldn’t. You should feel like a member of a SWAT team. These are basically all of the items they wear during an assault.”

“Cool!”

Elias put on his own gear and took a deep breath, shouting, “KREITZMANN! I WANT TO TALK!”

Out in the hall, Boehn heard Elias and grinned. Again catching Killeen’s eye, he motioned back toward the group, pointing at Kreitzmann, who was leaning against a wall, his head bandaged. Killeen indicated his understanding and trotted back to get the scientist.

Elias was surprised to see someone stumble into the opening, framed by the doorway. It was Kreitzmann. The man looked much different from the last time Elias had seen him. He appeared to be dazed, disoriented. There was a thick bandage wrapped around the top part of his head, and he stood unsteadily.

“Don’t shoot, Tillie.”

Elias side-stepped to the end of the shelves, continuing to point his shotgun forward.

“Kreitzmann?”

The scientist’s eyes seemed to have trouble focusing. After a moment, he looked at Elias and quietly asked, “Charon? Is that you?”

Trying to figure out the situation, Elias only said, “Step inside the room.”

Kreitzmann began to move forward, when a voice boomed from the hallway behind him, “That wouldn’t be advisable.”

Kreitzmann stopped, his confusion now clouded with fear.

“Why are you doing this, Kreitzmann?”

The man in the doorway shook his head, trying to clear it. “Doing this? I’m…I’m not doing this. I don’t know what’s happening.” His speech was slurred and difficult to understand.

Trying to make sense of what he was seeing and hearing, Elias pressed, “Who is?”

With a monumental effort, Kreitzmann, fighting the effects of a severe concussion, answered, “Boehn.”

“Doctor Boehn?”

“Yes,” he confirmed weakly.

Elias’ mind whirled as he readjusted all of the variables, painting a new picture inside his head. “You didn’t kill the people at ZooCity?”

The words slammed into Kreitzmann with a physical force, his mind beginning to clear. “Kill people? ZooCity? What are you talking about?”

From the hallway came the same voice Elias had heard earlier. “Mister Charon, I’m afraid you’ve been chasing the wrong dragon in your crusade. Rudy Kreitzmann is and has been nothing but a convenient front man for us, although I do admit that some of his findings have proved to be quite useful.”

Tillie quietly switched her weapon out of fully automatic mode and slowed her breathing.

“Boehn, why are you doing this?”

“Why am I doing what? Letting you discover the truth, or parading the pathetic Rudy Kreitzmann in front of you? I’ll tell you. You are learning the truth because, very shortly, it won’t matter what you know. And telling you a little gives me some satisfaction. But, mainly, the reason we are talking and the reason you have Kreitzmann standing before you is to buy a little time. And judging by the return of my man, I believe that we have purchased quite enough.”

Boehn must have signaled the member of the security team who had pushed Kreitzmann in front of the door; the instant he finished his sentence, an arm came into view, the hand reaching for Kreitzmann’s shoulder. Before the fingers could close on the fabric of his coat, a shot rang out and the man’s forearm exploded into a pink cloud. In the next moment, Tillie shouted, “GRAB KREITZMANN!”

Elias was already in motion, plunging forward. He seized him by the front of his shirt and pulled him in, violently. Kreitzmann stumbled and almost fell, but Elias’ grasp of the shirt held, and the scientist swung wildly, trying to get his feet back beneath him as he was dragged back behind the shelving. Two rows back and out of the line of fire, Elias let go and Kreitzmann fell to the floor. Without taking any more time, Elias grabbed the shotgun he had hastily leaned against the wall, and rejoined Tillie behind their barrier. He saw that she had pulled the respirator over her mouth and he did the same, right as he heard the clunk-and-roll sound of something being tossed into the utility room with them.