Lawrence woke with a screaming headache that clashed sharply with the plush velour of the la-z-boy indoctrination chair. The pain stemmed from the back of his neck and penetrated like a knife through his sinuses. Nearby, a faint light glowed. He reached back to rub his neck and felt the device. He gasped in horror.
Tightening his fingers firmly around the base of the implant, he yanked hard and convulsed, gasping for breath as the needle retracted from its nesting place. He fell forward onto the carpet and heaved as the world whirled back into view. He held fast to the floor.
He was weak and still reeling from the effects of the drugs. After five minutes, his vision came back and he felt the starkness of the light. He heard breathing, but could not make out anyone in the room. With a groan he rolled onto his back and slowly panned his head to take in his surroundings. Through the haze he made out the office art under the light. His suspicions were confirmed—this was not a dream. He was still somewhere in VirCorp.
Struggling, after several attempts he propped himself up on his elbows. He found himself staring up into the beatific face of Joe Noone.
“Oh, God,” he groaned, “not you too!”
Carefully, he got to his knees and lurched into the chair for support, hauling himself up into a stoop. The residual pain shot through his skull and he let out a gasp, falling back into the chair. “We’ve got to get out of here, buddy.”
“You most certainly do,” said a gruff voice in the dark. “Don’t just sit there, unplug him!”
Lawrence spun around to see an unfamiliar bearded face. “Who the hell are you?”
Sergeant Harvey stepped into the light. “We have less than four minutes to escape. Please, do take your time.”
Lawrence limped over to where Joe sat and pulled the plug. Joe wasn’t moving. Lawrence prodded his shoulder. “Is he still alive?” he asked.
“Don’t ask me. Check his pulse!”
Lawrence placed his fingers gently near the carotid and felt the gentle pump. He turned to the stranger and nodded. “He’s still alive.” He slapped Joe across the face. “Wakey wakey! C’mon, Joe. Time to roll!”
Joe shook, teeth chattering as he sprang to life. His eyes opened and stared blindly into an unseen sun.
“He’s having a seizure!”
“Looks like it.”
“Well, what do we do?”
All of a sudden, Joe bolted to his feet and began singing at the top of his lungs. “VirCorp and its subsidiaries’ product line of refreshing beverages, VirCorp and its RIAA protected song!” Harvey rushed over and cold-cocked Joe with a closed fist. Joe crumpled unconscious.
“What did you do that for?”
“They’ll hear! We’ll have to carry him. You take that side, I’ll take this one.” Harvey bowed down and hoisted Joe up under the arm, nodding to Lawrence to do the same. “Can you manage?”
Lawrence grunted. “I’ll give it my best.”
“OK. Let’s move. On three.” Harvey counted and the motley team staggered toward the exit. “I’ll explain everything when we get where we need to.
