Armen Gharabegian - Protocol 7

Andrew shook his head. “You’re wrong.” He pointed his flashlight ahead of him to see how far they needed to go. It looked like an endless shaft of blackness. “You couldn’t have known. There’s definitely something much bigger going on here.”

Hayden’s weight had started to become overwhelming, but Simon pushed on. Ignore it, he ordered himself. Get him out of here. Hayden’s survival was the only thing on his mind. He pictured Samantha waiting just outside the tunnel; he knew she would snap into ‘doctor mode’ the minute she saw a patient in need. She’d pull out of her silly, passive stupor and help. For the first time, he was almost glad she had forced her way into the team. Her presence just might save Hayden’s life.

“Can’t be much farther,” he said aloud, as much to himself as Andrew. “Can’t be.”

* * *

All Hayden could hear was soggy footsteps and rasping, heavy breathing. All he could see was a swaying, indecipherable slice of light against endless blackness as they stumbled slowly down the abandoned tunnel. It seemed to have been going on for hours. It felt as if it would go on for hours more.

Too easy, he told himself dreamily.

The ops team, they’ll get through that door. They’re not going to let a brain like mine get away without a fight.

Not my big, big brain.

Not long after, he heard the gunshots. But he never did see them.

* * *

Simon’s legs were stiff as logs. He felt as if he’d been hauling Hayden’s inert body down the rocky track bed since the beginning of time. Conversation between the two of them had stopped. They needed every ounce of energy to just keep moving.

The exhaustion made Simon slow. He didn’t notice the green dot on Andrew’s neck until the very last second.

What the hell? He thought. Green…

“Andrew!” he bellowed. “Watch out!” He shoved them all to the side as hard as he could, tripping and falling as he heaved.

The first bullet made a harsh, metallic thwang as it hit a pipe embedded in the subway tunnel wall-approximately the same position Andrew’s head had been, seconds before.

Andrew rolled onto his back, groaning. “What…?” he said.

“Laser-guided sight,” Simon grated, scrambling to his feet. “Saw the dot on your neck.”

Andrew pulled himself up beside him. “Jesus…”

They looked back with sudden clarity and saw the glint of gunmetal and goggles in the near-darkness. They were being followed. They couldn’t tell how many, but they were gaining ground fast, but cautiously.

There was no time for Simon to be cautious.

He reached down and jerked Hayden’s body up with a strength he didn’t know he had. “Run,” he said as he tossed the man’s body over his shoulder, bowing under its weight, but still upright.

“What?” Andrew said, still swaying. “But-”

“RUN!”

They pounded down the tunnel as fast as they could. A second shot thwanged off the concrete wall, and then they were around the last curve and out of sight of their pursuers, if only for a few moments.

“There,” Simon said breathlessly. Hayden felt like a thousand pounds across his back, but he couldn’t stop-not now. “There.”

The open iron grate of the staircase up to the surface was fifty feet away.

Range Rover

As Samantha walked toward the convenience store, she realized how refreshing the air was. She had been stuck in the Range Rover for far too long. She needed time to think, to move.

The tea shop was a tidy, little place run by a husband-and-wife team who kept it going despite the speed and efficiencies of the twenty-first century-a proud throwback to the past. Sam took her time browsing through the aisles, breathing and thinking and not saying a word. Ten minutes later she bought a bottle of water, a small packet of biscuits, and a pack of cigarettes. She even lingered over a conversation with the husband and wife, then-feeling a thousand percent better-slipped out of the store and back into the parking lot.

Clouds as dark and heavy as iron had closed in again, covering the sky over Oxford from end to end and side to side. Just what we need, she thought glumly as she stood on the curb and looked at the silent, immobile Range Rover on the far side of the street. More rain. The overcast had reduced what light existed to almost blackness. She knew the look of it; it would be pouring in minutes.

She pulled the cigarettes from her bag and looked at them for a moment. She had quit smoking at the age of twenty-two, and hadn’t felt the urge to start again, not once, until today. What the hell, she told herself. If all of this doesn’t warrant a smoke, nothing does.

The air was suddenly, unexpectedly chilly against her skin as the storm front rolled in. Still, she stood a moment longer on the sidewalk, in no particular hurry to rush back to the car. I wish Ryan would get here, she thought. Then at least I’d have someone else to talk to until Simon and Andrew get back. The thought of quietly, meekly sitting with Jonathan in the car irked her. The whole thing felt as if it was her fault that she was here and concerned about Simon’s safety-about all of them.

Part of her was very angry with Simon. How could he have gotten himself involved in all of this? How could he have kept all of this from her? It was all too unreal, too dangerous…

She absently rubbed the side of her neck as she brooded, passing her palm over and over the rough red spot where the drug-patch had been. She noticed a wall covered in graffiti illuminated by the streetlight, and trash on the far side of the street, beyond the Rover as she started to cross. Then she noticed how unevenly he had parked. She allowed herself a small, bitter smile. Expert driver, she thought as she approached. She squinted at a foggy patch on Jonathan’s side of the car.

Jonathan’s head was resting on the window. Can’t blame him, she thought grudgingly. I wouldn’t mind taking a nap myself. She walked around the back of the vehicle and opened the far passenger door, mentally preparing herself for another unpleasant conversation. Maybe he’ll keep dozing, she hoped. Then I can avoid the entire scene.

She pulled the door open as silently as she could, trying not to look at Jonathan in the front seat. The clouds had blocked most of the light; she was grateful for the dimness inside the car, and as she closed the door with the tiniest click, she made a show of sifting through the contents of the bag, trying to look busy.

Jonathan didn’t speak. His head didn’t move from the window.

Good, she told herself. Let him sleep. She had to admit he must’ve gone through a very difficult flight; the travel had to have been exhausting. She tried not to wake him as she placed the bag next to her on the seat and looked at her watch, wondering what was taking Simon and Andrew so long. The entrance of the tube was in front of them and off to one side; she knew that soon-very soon, she hoped-they would appear, followed by an as-usual unhappy Hayden behind them. At least when they were all here, she thought, they could sort out this bloody mess, and everyone could go home.

She cranked her own seat back with a muted ratcheting sound; she was glad to see that Jonathan still didn’t stir. She relaxed against the cushions herself and thought again about how nice it would be to have a few minutes of rest. She hadn’t stopped moving since she’d bolted awake terrified, hours earlier. And after everything that had happened…

Seconds later, she dozed off.

The Hidden Entrance

When Simon and Andrew burst out of the tunnel entrance, the first thing they noticed was how dark it had become. My god, Simon thought, have we been down there all day? Then he registered the low, dark clouds and the chilling breeze of the storm. It’s just the weather, he realized. A storm is about to break.