J. Spelbring: Perfection

What was he doing?

Without further hesitation, she read his intentions as clearly as if he’d said them. He found her attractive and was trying to get up the nerve for small talk.

Great!

The supervisor’s choices were limited. He’d have to pick up on her hint, or she’d have to dispose of him.

Ellyssa hoped he’d make the right decision. She straightened and faced him. “I have a boyfriend,” she announced.

The smile disappeared. “Oh?”

It wasn’t really a question, and she didn’t bother answering.

Glancing at his watch, Mr. Baker said, “Well…I need to go upstairs. I’ll be back down in a few, and I’ll check on your progress then.”

“As you wish.”

Much to her relief, he left.

Ellyssa checked her watch. Ten minutes wasted. Time was ticking away. She left the cart next to the restroom and headed for the stairwell.

Stairs would only get her so far. The research labs and experiment rooms where she needed to go were below her and completely self-contained, like a separate entity from the main building, accessible by only one elevator, and that connected to Dr. Hirch’s office and to her old living quarters on the top floors. No ordinary personnel were ever allowed, Top Secret security clearance only.

She descended, slowly at first; but as she took step after step, her pace increased. The tap, tap, tap of her rubber soles meeting linoleum echoed through the enclosed well. The sound wasn’t loud, but it was loud enough to make her uneasy and create a desire to look over her shoulder.

She stepped onto the platform of the main floor and rounded the corner to the basement.

“Excuse me,” said a deep voice.

Her heart leapt. No time .

Breathing in, she turned to face a tall, muscular man wearing a grey uniform. Static from the handheld radio secured to his utility belt squawked. Relief swept through her as she realized he was just a security guard, and not a trained Kripo .

“May I help you?” she asked, her voice higher than usual.

“I’ve never seen you before.”

“I am new.”

“May I see your identification?”

“Of course.” She handed him her fake credentials.

“The stairwell is off-limits during evening hours,” he stated, eyes flicking from her to the card, “Miss Keller.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t informed.”

“May I ask what you’re doing?”

“I was…going to the main floor. I left my bag there.”

“Why didn’t you take the elevator?”

Ellyssa felt the seconds slipping away. Anger bubbled. Sliding into her soldier state, she dissolved all of her emotions and met the guard’s eyes with a steady gaze. Fear registered on his face, and he blinked.

“I decided to take the stairs,” she said, deadpan.

He frowned at her sudden change. “Who is your crew leader?” he asked.

“Mr. Baker.”

The guard hesitated, as if he was unsure of his next action. “I think you should come with me,” he said, his hand moving toward the radio.

“I am sorry, but I do not think so.”

Ellyssa took a step, whirled around, and side-kicked him in the stomach. The guard folded at the waist as a rush of air expelled from his lungs. While he was bent over, she brought her knee up; his whole body lifted with the force of impact, then he went down. Blood spurted from his nose. His eyes and mouth widened in disbelief.

Grabbing him by the lapels, Ellyssa pulled him up and threw him against the wall. A sickening thump sounded when his head bounced.

Ellyssa’s new self yelled at her to stop, but she couldn’t. The danger he posed was too great. One life to save many. To save Rein and Woody. She walked toward him, her movements cold, calculating. She took his head in her hands and twisted, efficiently. His neck snapped as easily as a twig, and made the same sound. She released him, and he crumpled to the floor. No longer breathing, he was only a lifeless, grey-clad lump.

She stepped over him, grabbed her card off the floor, and then flew down the remaining flights of stairs.

Ellyssa bolted out of the stairwell onto L2, directly into an empty room. She edged to the doorway. A short way down the hall were closed metal double doors marked, Engineering-No Unauthorized Personnel . Clicking gears and whooshing hydraulics emitted from behind the closed door.

Woody’s assigned area.

She glanced at the moving hands ticking away on her wrist. She retreated to the far corner. Her mind cleared and she searched for Woody. The whispering thoughts of strangers dulled to a mild hum.

Woody was easy to find, his signature familiar and loud. Ellyssa felt his anxiety, his fear. From what she could determine, he stood just on the other side of the door. His eyes darted around, focusing on the other workers. He fumbled with a wrench. His gaze moved down. At the foot of a beam, his bag lay jammed beneath a plate of metal. A strap poked out. He shoved it under the plate with the toe of his boot.

Ellyssa pulled back. He was safe…for now.

Twenty-five minutes from now, he’d arm the explosives. Afterward, they’d have fifteen minutes to clear the building.

Silently, Ellyssa moved to the middle of the hall, to a wall grate. Six screws held the plate in place. Withdrawing a small toolset from her pocket, she set to work, dislodging the grate.

She removed her shoes and socks, and stripped out of the jumpsuit, down to a soft cotton shirt and a pair of sweatpants. She put the uniform inside the duct and crawled in feet first.

Warm air brushed Ellyssa’s face and caressed the skin of her arms. Metallic odors, and the scent of oil, hung heavy in the recycled air.

Hoping no one would notice the missing screws, she positioned the grid back in place. Her arms extended out in front of her, she pulled herself forward. The process was painstakingly slow. The duct left little room for movement, and jagged metal edges scratched her skin and snagged her clothes.

For the most part, darkness kept her company except for slivers of light from other grates. Occasionally, she’d see machinery or the occasional pair of legs through the crisscrossing bars. She crawled as quickly as she could.

Ten meters in, she reached the vertical framework where airflow traveled to the labs below. The whirling fwomp, fwomp, fwomp of the large fan blades sucked warm air from the higher levels.

Poking her head over the edge, Ellyssa peered down the chute. Dim, filtered light illuminated the next section three meters below. Dust particles danced in the greyish glow.

She wiggled her body over the gaping hole until her toes dangled down. Then she backed down, legs swinging through the vertical duct, followed by her chest. Pressing her knees against one side of the airway and her back against the other, Ellyssa wedged herself in. Then she started the painstaking process of wriggling down.

One little slip, and Ellyssa knew she’d shoot down the shaft, like a bullet through a gun barrel. Only she wouldn’t be projected over a long distance, but would instead end up broken and bleeding at the bottom of the duct.

Two meters down, her muscles started to quiver under the exertion of holding her body weight over the aluminum precipice. Using her legs, she pressed herself tighter against the side and relaxed her arms, gently shaking them. She’d done many similar exercises that called for intense exertion, but none had proved as taxing as duct-climbing.

Her endurance in question, Ellyssa wondered how much further she had to go, how much time had passed, and vaguely, if anyone had found the guard yet.

Ellyssa repositioned her hands and shifted down another half meter, her back and knees sliding along the framework. She paused, scooted, paused, and scooted until her feet and buttocks found open space. Carefully, she locked her arms, holding herself in place, and lowered one of her legs, her toes searching for the edge.