‘What?’ Judd listens, then notices a very distant buzzing sound.
Ding.
The doors to the elevator in front of them slide open and they step inside. The large elevator is wood panelled, has a mirror on each wall and a button panel on both sides of the doors. A jaunty muzak version of ‘The Girl from Ipanema’ plays from a speaker above. The boys don’t really notice any of those details, though. What strikes them is the pungent smell. Corey knows what it is straight away. ‘Gasoline.’
Judd looks down. There’s a small pool of liquid on the dark marble floor. He crouches, touches it, smells it. ‘Yep. Why would that be here?’
Corey shrugs. ‘Jeez Louise, it’s strong. Want to take the next one?’
‘Nah. It’s only three floors.’
Corey nods and hits the button for the third floor. The doors slide together and the elevator rises. As it does the buzzing sound recedes into the distance.
Ding.
The doors slide open.
The third floor is empty.
They step out, look around. There’s no one there. Judd’s baffled. ‘That’s just — strange, don’t you think?’
Corey nods. ‘It’s actually weird, mate. I reckon we should head down to the lockup.’
‘The what?’
‘You know, where they put the crims when they’re brought in. That plaque thingy downstairs said it was on the lower ground floor. There’s got to be someone down there who can tell us what’s going on.’
‘Let’s do it.’
They step back inside the elevator and Judd presses the LG button. The doors slide shut and the elevator descends. ‘The Girl from Ipanema’ continues to play.
The buzzing sound returns, and becomes louder. Judd can hear it clearly now. ‘What is that?’
‘Sounds like a leaf blower or something.’ Corey glances at the liquid on the ground. ‘Why would there be gasoline in the elevator?’
Judd thinks about it. ‘What did that woman say? About the men?’
‘That they had machines.’ Corey stares straight ahead, lost in thought. ‘And machines run on gasoline.’
‘And what’s been happening to machines that run on gasoline today?’
They look at each other.
Ding.
The doors slide open.
The throbbing buzz-scream of a chainsaw echoes across the large room.
Fifteen metres away a man dressed in black and wearing a white hockey mask rises from behind a booking counter, swings his arm high and hurls a chainsaw across the room.
Engine screeching, it spirals through the air, then drops like a brick, slams into the ground, bounce-rolls across the cement floor and slams into a barricade of three office desks, behind which three uniformed cops take cover.
Judd’s eyes flick to the chainsaw’s exhaust. It’s dark purple, then turns black, its engine note rough, like rocks in a blender. ‘Take cover!’ Judd and Corey roll behind the elevator’s button panels—
Ka-boom! The chainsaw detonates like a Claymore landmine — but worse. It sends a blast of white-hot shrapnel in every direction, the soundwave deafening.
Smash, thud, crash. The shrapnel slams into the elevator, shatters the mirror on the rear wall. The office desk barricade is obliterated, the police officers behind it slump to the blackened floor.
Corey glances at Judd. ‘Guess we know what the buzzing sound is now.’
Judd scans the lockup, stunned. It’s strewn with bodies — every one a police officer. At least twelve that he can count. They’ve stumbled into the middle of a siege. He jams his thumb onto the door-close button. Nothing happens. ‘Won’t shut.’
Corey tries the button on his side. ‘Not happening! The explosion stuffed it.’
Still crouched behind the counter, Hockey Mask shouts at a man fifteen metres behind him. ‘How long till it’s open?’
This guy has no shirt on his heavily tattooed back but wears large safety goggles over his eyes. ‘Thirty seconds!’ He trains a flaming welding torch on the lock of a holding cell door, egged on by three prisoners inside. On a small cart beside him are the cylinders of oxygen and acetylene that feed the torch.
One of the uniform cops, stunned by the explosion but still alive, drags himself across the ground towards a 9mm pistol.
Hockey Mask dives his hand into the open, oversized duffle bag beside him, drags out another chainsaw, yanks the ripcord to start it and hurls it across the room. It spirals through the air, engine screaming, and lands a metre in front of the police officer. He reaches out, grabs it to throw it back—
Ka-boom! It detonates and blows the poor bastard to pieces.
Smash, thud, crash. Judd and Corey take cover as another wave of shrapnel slams into the elevator.
Judd winces. ‘Oh, man. Really wish I hadn’t seen that.’
Hockey Mask and Safety Goggles turn to see Judd and Corey in the elevator. And Judd and Corey see them.
‘Damn it!’ Corey jams his thumb into the door-close button again and keeps it there. ‘Come on!’
Nothing happens.
‘Continuing to push it isn’t going to make it work!’
‘You got a better idea, I’m all ears.’
Safety Goggles draws a pistol and swings it towards the elevator. The prisoners in the holding cell cheer him on.
‘Jesus!’ Corey turns to Judd. ‘Use the gun.’
‘The what?’
He points at Judd’s back. ‘The gun! Use the bloody gun!’
‘Oh Christ, that’s right!’ Judd had forgotten all about Ponytail’s pistol. He drags it from his belt, aims it out the elevator’s doors and fires once.
The bullet slams into the oxy-welder’s acetylene cylinder.
Boom. It detonates. The explosion isn’t as big as either of the chainsaws but it’s big enough, smacks Safety Goggles flat to the ground, knocks him out cold. The deflated prisoners in the holding cell let out a disappointed groan.
Hockey Mask takes in what just happened, then disappears behind the booking counter again. It’s silent for a long moment — then a buzz-scream cuts across the room.
Judd and Corey watch Hockey Mask rise from behind the booking counter and hurl a chainsaw towards them.
Time slows.
Corey turns to Judd. ‘We gotta close the doors!’ He grabs the door on his side and pushes it shut as Judd does the same on his side. They slide towards each other — slowly.
The shrieking machine spirals directly towards them.
It’s larger than the others.
Judd and Corey frantically push the doors closed.
But it’s taking too long.
The roaring chainsaw is halfway there.
And the doors are only halfway shut.
Judd’s hands slip on the polished metal as he pushes for all his worth. ‘Must go faster!’
The chainsaw is right there.
The doors slam shut.
Thump. The chainsaw lands on the ground inside the elevator. Its engine thunders as its exhaust turns a deep purple.
Time speeds up.
Judd and Corey frantically pull the doors open.
They won’t budge.
Corey pivots to the chainsaw, kneels, finds the ON/OFF switch, flicks it.
It doesn’t work. The engine still runs. ‘The switch has been disabled.’
They stare at the machine for a terrible moment.
‘I’ll pour out the gas.’
Judd shakes his head. ‘Won’t work. It’s in the fuel lines. You’d have to flush the whole system.’
They look at each other.
‘The counteragent!’ They say it at exactly the same time. Judd grabs the canister from his jacket as Corey twists off the chainsaw’s fuel cap.
Judd stares at the keypad built into the lid of the counteragent’s aluminium canister. ‘What was the code again?’ He can’t remember the number the dying guy told him. ‘724?’