Captive

Chapter 38

Freddie and the Vincent clone led a group of scared and confused prisoners away from the holding cells and toward the loading docks. In the chaos and pandemonium, some of the captives picked up weapons to help their rescuers fend off guards and facility staff. The clan hustled down corridors, running through sprays of bullets and dodging pieces of falling debris and broken glass. The freed patients only had flip-flops, which some had lost as they ran, causing the barefoot escapees to limp as their bloodied soles slammed sharp chunks and shards deeper into their unprotected feet. Freddie tried to remain calm despite the fact that his adrenaline was pumping and his extremities were shaking. The clone, on the other hand, seemed cool and completely engulfed in the action. He reveled in the shots he fired, and he proved to be an expert marksman. Around them, alarms blared while the facility's staff tried to restore order.

"After we get them in the truck," the clone started as they reached the loading docks, "I'll head for the basement."

"What about the others?" Freddie asked as his eyes darted around the corridor.

"You can't wait."

"We have to. We have orders."

"You can't wait forever." The clone opened the back of the truck. He and Freddie helped the bewildered yet very relieved patients into the vehicle. As the numbers waiting to board dwindled, Regan appeared through the entrance. She clutched a bleeding arm.

Freddie ran to her side, and asked, "What happened?"

"A bullet grazed my arm somewhere between the bathrooms and here," she replied, trying to catch her breath."

"You went to the bathroom?"

Regan rolled her eyes, "No. I took cover in the foyer. I got jumped by some crazy bitch in heels."

"An employee?"

"Yeah. I thought she would be a lousy shot, so I made a break for it. Guess I was wrong."

"We'll talk about this later. Get in." Freddie loaded his injured girlfriend into the passenger's seat and fastened her seat belt. Vincent's clone stood beside the vehicle and rifled through the two backpacks in his possession.

"I have everything I need," he commented. The clone stood and faced Freddie as the lab technician closed Regan's door. Vincent's replica extended his hand and said, "It was nice knowing you. Take care of my sister."

Freddie's grasp met his creation's palm. "How long do we have to get out of here?"

"It'll take me about seven and a half minutes to get there, lay the charges, and bring this place to the ground. Get your asses out of here, now!" The clone flung the bags over his shoulders and took off through the open door. Freddie went to the driver's side of the car, opened the door, climbed in, and buckled his seatbelt. Finally, he adjusted the mirror and threw the car in drive, the tires squealed as the vehicle peeled out of the loading docks.

***

Vincent Matthews and the redhead made their way toward the Tower. It was on the other side of the institution, and while Matthews was now back on his own feet, they still had to contend with groups of heavily armed guards who had managed to acquire the riot gear kept under locked away for emergency situations. The heroes leaned against a concrete wall and occasionally craned their heads around the corner in an attempt to figure out how to get around the brute squad forming about thirty feet from where they stood. Bridget's replica scanned the space above them, looking for a ventilation shaft while Matthews tried to count the number of men, confirm the weapons they carried, and determine if he could take them.

"Is there anything up there?" he asked.

"I don't see any vents, and this ceiling is flimsy. It doesn't look like it would hold me, so it definitely won't hold you." Bridget looked at Matthews. "Any ideas?"