“That’s our cue,” I announce.
A red security light begins blinking in the back of the building. The rear entrance rumbles upward a few beats later and fifteen black-clad Omega troops pour into the alley. All young. All men. All very foreign.
Each of my team members has an assigned sector — a specific job, a specific point of focus. I am completely shocked that fifteen troopers have flooded out of the building — I hadn’t expected this much luck.
Nevertheless, my heart twists in my chest as I bring my rifle up to my shoulder and train my sights on one of the fifteen troops. Vera, Manny, Uriah, Alexander and myself each pull the trigger on our weapons. A sporadic smattering of rifle fire fills the air, echoing off the alley walls. Troops collapse at odd angles, dead before they even hit the ground. It’s eerie. Our aim is so perfect that there is no screaming. Just fifteen gunshots and fifteen dead patrols on the asphalt, pooling in blood.
“Go, go, go!” I yell.
This is our chance. The rear entrance is open. We were not expecting this — I was expecting that we would have to blow it open.
Thwap!
A bullet whizzes by my head. I jerk to the side and roll into a crouch. A guard is standing in the open doorway, frantically making an effort to close the entrance. Uriah takes him down. The dead trooper hits the ground with a thud. We push inside the door. And we move on toward the objective.
Good job, Derek! I think.
We stack and go, clearing the hallway corners and taking out moving targets.
It’s cold and stale. Yelling and gunfire can be heard within the concrete confines of the building. The epicenter of the noise isn’t too far away, either. Just at the front of the building, where Derek and his team are creating a distraction.
“Right, right, right!” I say.
This floor is empty. We veer down a wide hallway. Two Omega guards are fumbling in the corner for their weapons, probably left behind to guard the back of the building. My team is deadly. Vera and Uriah kill them instantly with controlled rifle fire.
Perfect.
This hallway is filled with cells. It’s a standard county jail, with cement flooring and metal bars. The stench of vomit is powerful. We spread into the area, breathing hard, sweating. Check left, check right, scan for threats and the objective — Chris. The first cell holds a skinny man, the second cell holds a woman covered in hundreds of lacerations. My brain registers the fact that this is a torture chamber, but I have no time to dwell on it. We are moving too quickly.
In all, there are ten cells — all of them hold prisoners that I do not recognize.
“Bingo!” Uriah yells. There is a main switch at the end of the hallway — a literal emergency door release in case of fire. I slam my fist against it and the cell doors unclick. They are unlocked. The prisoners seem dazed at first — unable to believe that their cells have been opened.
I don’t have time to make a speech.
“Keep going!” I shout. “Move it!”
Panic hasn’t seized me…yet. I was expecting to find Chris here, on the first floor. I don’t recognize any faces. None. Is he dead? Did Harry Lydell already order his execution?
Alexander grabs my arm and says, “This isn’t everybody.”
I nod and move swiftly to the stairs.
A lone guard is coming around the corner. I catch the movement of his body out of the corner of my eye. A symphony of keys jingle on his belt. I automatically shoot him in the chest, never hesitating for a moment. He hits the ground with a thud, a strangled scream still in his throat.
I drop to my knees and yank the keys from his belt.
We run through the hallway, taking another corridor that dives to the left. This one is longer than the others, and more heavily guarded. We quickly kill six more guards, and as the Omega casualties pile up, the timer in my head starts ticking faster. The more security we encounter, the longer it takes to reach our objective, and we’ve got just minutes to hit, rescue and run.
I spot something on the wall, above a door.
“Whoa, look up!” I say, skidding to a halt.
It reads: DIVISION FIVE
A cellblock we haven’t searched yet.
I share a glance with Manny.
We go inside.
The hallway here is short with fifteen compact cells. Each one is nothing more than a door with a small slit for a window.
“Chris!” I shout. “Where are you?”
I pull back the metal sheet on the window and peek inside the first cell. An emaciated figure is sitting in the corner. A woman. An officer.
I toss the keys to Uriah.
I say, “Get them out.” Then, “Chris Young! Are you here?”
Uriah discards the keys that he took from the guard in the hallway and finds the main switch to the cell doors — they open, just like they did on the floor below. The prisoners inside the cells are starved, beaten, and bruised. Many of them are covered in scabs and dried blood. The living conditions remind me of the Omega slave labor camp I was imprisoned in.
I come to the last cell. The man in the corner has long hair and a lean build. My mouth goes dry.
“Chris?” I say.
He looks up, but it’s not Chris. Someone else. I have a borderline heart attack.
“He’s not here,” I state, numb. “Chris isn’t here.”
“He’s here somewhere,” Uriah replies, shaking me. “Don’t give up.”
God, please. Give me a break! I’m begging you!
Injured and weakened officers stumble into the hallway, disoriented and confused.
“We’re Americans!” I say simply. “We’re here to get you out.” Then, “Do any of you know where Commander Chris Young is?”
I might as well ask. Seriously. What have I got to lose at this point?
My question goes unanswered. So I ask again, louder. This time, someone speaks up. It’s the prisoner that I thought was Chris.
“He’s upstairs,” he croaks. His voice is broken by exhaustion. “I don’t know if he’s coming back or not.”
A stone drops to the pit of my stomach.
“Stick to the plan,” I tell Uriah. “We go upstairs.”
Half a dozen officers manage to drag themselves into the hall with the help of my men. “Okay,” I say, “stick with me. Officers?” I turn to the newly freed prisoners. “Run like hell and don’t stop until you’re safe.”
The clock is ticking. Omega is now totally aware of our presence inside the building, and I’m guessing that we have seconds to locate Chris and get out of here before backup rolls in.
The prisoners separate from my team. We leave the hallway and head for the stairwell. We have studied the blueprints for this building so many times that I feel like I’m reenacting some sort of memory.
Manny and Uriah open an exit door and we enter the stairway. The metal steps echo as we stay in formation, climbing to the next level. Emergency sirens screech through the chamber.
We enter the stairway. Omega guards and officers are frantically crawling all over the office cubicles. Computers with lit monitors are sitting on every desk.
Computers. Working computers.
An Omega guard fires off a round and hits Manny in the shoulder. He drops to one knee and brings his pistol up, firing back. The soldier is slammed backwards in a spray of blood.
“This is an office area!” Uriah shouts. “Where’s Chris supposed to be?”
“With Harry,” I say.
I don’t know how I know this — I just do.
I looked at the layout of the Holding Center more than anybody else. Harry Lydell’s office is here — and if Chris is still alive, that is where he must be.