Paul Melko: The Walls of the Universe

Also on the desk were pictures of the Rayburn farmhouse, close-ups of the barn, the fields, and John’s parents.

“These guys are rather thorough,” Prime said.

“Wouldn’t you be if you were obsessed with getting home?” John said pointedly.

“Uh, yeah.” Prime actually looked guilty for a moment.

Prime pulled open Ildibad’s desk drawers, looking for something of use. He found a brochure for the company and inside was a map of the campus, including the fenced-in areas.

“Why do they have a brochure?” Prime asked.

“I dunno,” John replied. “Do they actually hire anyone from the outside?” John guessed no person from this universe had ever set foot inside the fenced area. Except for Henry. Except for Grace.

John looked over Prime’s shoulder. Building One was labeled “Administration.” The buildings beyond it were labeled “Laboratory One” and “Laboratory Two.” Walkways attached the three buildings.

John looked up and saw an emergency drawing. It showed the office, the corridor, the nearest fire exits, and a silhouette of the rest of Building One. A “You Are Here” sign indicated that they were on the eastern side of Building One.

“We’re in Building One. I think we need to get to the laboratories,” he said.

“If I were part of an evil group of renegades, that’s where I would store my hostages,” Prime said. He knelt down in front of the bookcase and pulled a thick volume out. He checked the table of contents, then put the book in his bag.

“What are you doing? What was that?” John said.

“Concise encyclopedia,” he said. “You never know what might be useful back home.”

“Right.” John hitched the duffel on his shoulder. Prime would never change. Yet he was here now, helping. “Let’s find my friends.”

The hallway was still empty. Prime led them in the direction toward the laboratories. As they neared a set of double doors, one of them swung in and a security guard stepped through, oblivious to them.

He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the handgun in Prime’s hands. Prime motioned him forward silently.

“Come on,” Prime whispered. “In case there’s someone behind you.” The guard came forward, but no one followed him. He was alone. Prime slid the man’s pistol out of his holster, handing it to John. It was cold and heavy in his hands. He held it awkwardly for a moment until he slid it into his pocket, safety on.

“This way,” Prime said, and they led the man back to Ildibad’s office and pushed him inside.

“Where are my friends?” John asked the man.

He sneered, then said, “Zulo! Marikoi!”

Prime said, “I guess that means he doesn’t want to tell us.”

“What language was that?” John asked.

“The Language, you ass,” the man said. His English was accented just like Visgrath’s.

“Well, he speaks English, as well,” Prime said. “That means he’ll understand when I say he better start talking if he doesn’t want to die with a bullet in the head.” Prime raised the pistol, aiming at the guard’s forehead. John almost reached out to push the gun away. But they needed to know, and John assumed-prayed!-that Prime was bluffing.

“Pikutara joan!”

“Listen, you dumb son of a bitch. To me, you’re just an animal that needs to be put down. Speak or face oblivion.”

“Your friends are dead. Just like you’ll be.”

“Not the right answer!” Angry, Prime slammed the side of the pistol against the guard’s face.

“What are you doing?” John cried out.

“Quiet!”

“Me be quiet?” John stuck his head out the doorway, looking both ways. Empty. “You can’t torture this guy.”

“Watch me,” Prime said. “Isn’t this why you brought me along? For the dirty work?”

Blood welled up at the guard’s mouth. He spat at Prime, who dodged it with a smirk.

“Where are they?”

“Kabroi! You can’t stop our glorious return to Alara. We will take your transporter and leave your bodies for the dogs.” He spat again.

Prime smashed his face again with the gun, and this time the guard collapsed unconscious. John looked down at the bleeding man, his head spinning.

“That was going nowhere,” Prime said.

“You could have killed him,” John said. He crouched down and felt for a pulse.

“Leave him,” Prime said. “He’s garbage.”

“Listen to yourself! It’s not about being fierce, or killing, or attacking. Calm down.”

Prime looked at John. There was coldness in Prime’s eyes that frightened John. “I’ve seen this type before. They’ll do anything to get what they want. We have to attack them or die!”

John put a hand on Prime’s shoulder.

“I know how you feel, John,” he said. “I want to kill them all too. They’ve shot my Casey. Consider that. But we need stealth and speed. Violence and anger will get us killed.”

Something changed in Prime’s face, and he nodded.

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry,” Prime said. “We aren’t really the same anymore, are we?”

“Not that far apart,” John said. “But it’s been two years.”

Prime cuffed the guard with his own handcuffs, then dragged him behind the desk. He turned and headed back toward the double doors. Prime waited with his palm against the cold metal until John caught up. Prime listened at the door for a moment, then pulled it open. Beyond was a set of glass doors leading outside.

“The lab buildings,” John said.

“Halt!”

Prime turned at the sound. Someone was running down the hallway toward them.

John pulled Prime inside the atrium and slammed the door shut. Prime paused for a second, then kicked it open again, and fired into the hallway three times.

“Stealth wasn’t working,” Prime said, with a grim grin.

John rolled away with his arms around his ears. Prime was going to get them killed!

Prime kicked the door again. John glanced up when no bullets came flying and saw the body of the guard, dead, lying in the hallway. Prime ran forward and rifled through his pockets, finding a set of keys.

“Come on. They know we’re here now.”

Prime led the way outside, following a sidewalk that joined the buildings. A metal door leading into the Laboratory One building opened, and Visgrath stepped out.

“Hold it,” Prime said, his gun trained on the man. He stopped and raised his arms. Instead of fear, the man’s face showed a smirk.

“Visgrath,” John said. “Where are my friends?”

“The brave John Wilson. Two of you. How interesting.”

“Where are they?” John repeated. His anger was boiling up inside him. He reached into his pocket for the pistol.

“Not here.”

Prime pointed his handgun at Visgrath’s elbow. “This is going to hurt, and I have no qualms doing it.”

Visgrath blanched. “How can there be two of you? Your device is broken. Unless you’ve been successful in-”

Prime touched the gun to Visgrath’s elbow. “Where are his friends?”

Visgrath stared at Prime closely, perhaps deciding if he had the guts. He clearly valued his life more than the guard did, because he finally said, “They’re in Lab One. Right here.”

“Let’s go get them,” John said. “Keep your hands behind your head.”

John took a quick look around him. He hated being in the open. The shots Prime had fired should have drawn a lot of attention.

“Hurry.”

“How can I open the door if my hands are behind my back?”

“Open the damn door.”

“You’ll never get out of here. There’s fifty armed guards. Certainly more guards than you have bullets.”

They stood in an atrium similar to the one in Building One. “Which way?” There were two pairs of doors.