The Contingency Plan

Chapter 7

Retaliation

Never underestimate a scientist.

They have a relentlessly analytical mind and are not easily deterred by setback or obstacle. Miyano Shiho was no exception. Having spent hours locked away in a small, rusted jail cell with nothing more than a simple padlock to occupy her mind, she meticulously planned out an escape.

Once satisfied that Moonshine wouldn't be returning, she set to work. Cannibalizing parts from an old coil spring mattress left over from world war one, she was able to cobble together some makeshift tools. While no expert in locksmithing, she knew that with the appropriate instruments, the four pins of the double tumbler could be picked. Working backwards from the far side of the bars complicated matters, but with the proper application of force, fineness, and profanity, the lock eventually surrendered to her efforts and clattered to the ground.

The heavy gate yielded with a horrendous screech as she pushed it aside. If Moonshine was within earshot, he may have heard that. She would have to move fast. First thing's first.

Complex pharmaceuticals like the one he gave Kudo aren't easy to synthesize and don't last forever. Shelf-life can be prolonged when kept at low temperatures. That meant there had to be some sort of cold storage in this godforsaken place.

She had once written the book for this kind of thing. Standard operating procedures shouldn't have changed much. The antiserum ought to be located right next to this liquid lobotomy. Get that, then get the hell out of dodge.

She traced her steps back to the vault of the previous night. Without the blinding flood lights, she was able to find the door through which Moonshine had entered. This led to what once had been a break area of some sort. The room had clear signs of renovation with modern light fixtures, computers, heaters, and foodstuffs strewn about. Her focus immediately zeroed in on the refrigerator mounted by the wall.

The lid flung open only to reveal frozen dinners and drinks for a week. A painful reminder of just how dry her throat was. The last time she had any kind of sustenance must have been more than 12 hours ago.

She considered taking a minute to thaw out the thermos and drink but angrily shunned the thought away. There was no time for that. The human body can go three days without water. Kudo didn't have that long.

She plowed on with the search, opening cabinets and drawers wherever they could be found. Most were empty. Some held random junk. One actually contained empty syringes and some saline solution, but nothing useful. There were no chemicals of any kind. It had to be here somewhere in the mess. Where is that good for nothing detective when you need him?

She thought back to the person she once was; the survival tricks she once relied on. This environment was a far cry from her old lab, but the principal was the same, right?

Duct taped to the underside of a table, she discovered a black colt model 1911 pistol. Her eyes glossed over as old, mechanical instinct took control. She pulled back the slide and released the magazine from the well by muscle memory. After checking to see if it was loaded, she returned the clip and let the block snap back into place.

It must have been well maintained, cleaned, and oiled on a regular basis. If he was methodical enough for an emergency gun, then where the hell was the antiserum?

There was a noise from the corridor as heavy footsteps approached from the far door. She thought fast.

Instantly, she returned to a cupboard with the syringes and saline. She took two needles, hiding one in her stocking and filling the other before taking up a defensive position next to the door. Gun in hand, she tried to suppress the growing sense of dread.