H λ L F - L I F E: Bishop's War✔️

CHλPTER 18: Lockdown

"So what kind of numbers are we working with here? How many are you?" Bower asked as Harrington led them down a disused hallway.

"Why?" he replied guardedly.

Bower sighed heavily. "Because I've got a box of cookies in my pack and I wanna know how many each of us gets! Why do you think!? If we're throwing in with you, it's only fair that we know exactly what we're working with," he snapped.

Maria laughed. Harrington sighed. "Fine, fair enough. We've had trust issues ever since you assholes showed up and started mowing down innocent, unarmed American citizens."

"We didn't kill one scientist!" Bower replied angrily. "We didn't kill one person who wasn't trying to murder us. We've done nothing but work with your people since we hit dirt in this godforsaken hellhole! Believe it or not, I did not sign up to gun down US citizens."

Harrington was silent for a few seconds. "Fair enough. Besides myself and Laidlaw, there's now just two. Dr. Newell and Lance Corporal Li. Another one of your buddies."

"That's it? There's only four of you?" Eric asked.

"Well, we sent half our number with Laidlaw for ammo and to look for other survivors. How'd you do, by the way?" Harrington replied.

"Well, I brought these guys," Laidlaw answered.

"We've got ammo to spare," Bower replied. Well, they had found a fair amount during their sweep of Bio-Research after that last battle.

"Good. Come on, I'll introduce you to the others, show you the ops center, and then we can finally commence with this lockdown," Harrington said.

They finished navigating the corridors and came at last into a large, open laboratory. It had two stories and most of the walls were taken up by big, bulky pieces of machinery that did who knew what. Eric scoped it out. He saw five doors on the first floor, and a stairwell and small lift that led up to the second story. As they came in, Harrington closed, then firmly locked the door, then punched something into the keypad next to it, which chirped sharply after a few seconds. To the right, on a little outcropping built into the second story, there was a workstation. It looked like the kind of place the person in charge would sit and lord over everyone else.

There was a man up there, and he scrutinized them from behind expensive glasses. Eric scrutinized him back. He was a heavyset man with graying brown hair and a look of smug superiority that seemed as though it got a lot of practice. He wore an orange labcoat. Eric wondered what that meant. Dr. Newell cleared his throat.

"Who have you brought into my laboratory, Harrington?"

"People who know what they're doing," Harrington grunted as he marched across the room to a table shoved up against the wall.

"What are we doing?" Newell asked. Eric frowned. He had an immediate and powerful dislike of the man. There was just something in the way he spoke, in the way he asked questions, that dripped condescension and implied superiority.

"We aren't doing anything. Those of us with real combat experience are going to secure this complex. Which means, I'm guessing, everyone but you and Laidlaw."

"Hey, I can fight," Laidlaw said.

"Yeah, but you're more useful to us here."

"Harrington, I believe we discussed this: I am in charge of this operation and thus all decisions need to go through me," Newell said.

"And I believe I told you to let me handle the goddamned security side of things. Don't you have better things to do? Like figure out where all this power you need is gonna come from?"