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Deadline

Page 118

   


“That doesn’t mean anything,” said Becks.
“Right. Because he obviously shot me with a ative or something.” Kelly shook her head, looking actively annoyed. “Don’t be stupid. We don’t have time for this.”
“Fuck, Doc, just come on.”
“No.” She turned and yanked open a drawer, pulling out a test unit. She slammed it down on the counter, popped off the lid, and shoved her hand inside. “I’m so sorry. I swear, I didn’t know. Maybe I should have known, maybe I was being a naive little idiot—I was so busy trying to do what I was supposed to do, and save the world, that I didn’t open my eyes—but I didn’t know.”
“I believe you,” Becks said, softly.
The lights along the top of Kelly’s test unit were turning red, one after the other.
She pulled her hand out when the last light stabilized on red, shooting a challenging glare in our direction. “Now do you believe me? Dr. Wynne shot me, and I’ve gone into amplification. I’m done. It’s over. And I really think it’s time for you to leave.”
I winced. “Fuck. Doc, I’m sorry.” Becks raised her arm, gun up, and pointed at Kelly’s head. From this distance, there was no chance she’d miss.
“So am I.” Kelly pulled the needle free. She held it up for a moment, long enough for the rest of us to see it clearly, and then she dropped it to the floor. It made a faint clinking noise when it hit the tile, before rolling to a stop in a puddle of Dr. Wynne’s blood. “Leave the door open when you go. I’ll stay here and distract security.”
I reached to the side and pushed Becks’s arm slowly down, shaking my head in negation. “Doc, are you sure? Amplification’s not something to f**k around with.”
“I think I know that better than you do.” A thin smile tilted her lips up. That, combined with the ponytail, made her look briefly, heartbreakingly like Buffy. I’d seen the resemblance when Kelly first showed up in Oakland, and now here it was again, at the worst possible time.
I guess they have more in common than we thought, said George.
Kelly shrugged out of her lab coat, letting it fall. The blood on the floor began to soak through the cotton almost instantly, but she didn’t seem to notice. She just kept talking as she bent to pick up Dr. Wynne’s gun. “At my body weight, you have approximately eleven minutes before I become a danger. That’s long enough for you to get out of here, and that gives me long enough to make sure the security team has a really, really bad morning. Exit, take a left, and head for the end of the hall. Security will be coming from the other direction. Turn left again when you reach the T-junction, and open the fourth door you see. That should put you—”
“Same place as before?” I asked.
She nodded. Her smile faded slowly, and her lower lip quavered for a moment before she said, “The security systems in the evacuation tunnels are independent of the rest of the building, in case of malfunction or… or something like this. As long as you can test clean, you can get out, no matter what else is happening in here.”
“I remember.” I took a step back, away from her. “Becks, Mahir, come on.”
“Yeah.” Becks hesitated before asking, “You got enough bullets?”
Kelly smiled again, this time directing it at Becks. It was a small thing, and it hurt to see, because it might be the last smile she’d ever wear. At least this one didn’t make her look like Buffy. “I do. Thank you.”
“If you decide you can’t do this—if you want to die remembering who you are—just make sure you save one for yourself.”
“I will.” Kelly sighed, looking at the gun in her hands. “Under the circumstances, I think my grandfather would want me to do this. He thought the truth was important… and so do I. I really didn’t know Dr. Wynne was sending me to hurt you. And I’m sorry. I didn’t want any of this.”
“I know,” said Becks.
I took a breath, letting it out slowly before I tried to speak. “Thanks, Doc.” A whisper at the back of my mind brought a sad smile to my lips. “George says thanks, too. She’s sorry she didn’t trust you.”
“You’re welcome—and tell her it doesn’t matter.”
Kelly’s smile faded. She stepped back, bracing herself against the cabinet before sinking to the floor. That was my last image of her, just sitting there with her knees drawn up to her chest, staring at Dr. Wynne’s unmoving body like she expected it to tell her some sort of a secret—to say something that would magically make everything she’d been through start making sense.
The three of us who were still standing left the office at a walk that turned rapidly into a run and left us with no time for dwelling on what had just happened. We were too busy racing for the exit, looking for an escape from what I was raised to believe was the safest place on the planet.
We were halfway to the end of the first hall when the alarm started to blare, flashing amber lights snapping on at the top of every wall. Mahir sped up, passing us both to take the left. Becks reached back to grab my elbow, hauling me around the corner and out of sight just before the sound of running footsteps filled the hall, coming hard and fast enough to be audible under the alarm. Security was finally on the way.
“You need to keep up,” she hissed. I could barely hear her; it was mostly the shape of her lips that told me what she’d actually said.