The Law and the Codas

Chapter Two

Once the guards are convinced we are safely secured, they escort us from the Testing Room and back toward our cells. It's when we're in the corridors, passing hallway after hallway of stark white walls and Facility employees outfitted with Network headsets, that we talk with one another, though as in the testing room

"How do you think you did?" Rima asks, nudging her brother in his side.

He frowns over his shoulder. "I was sweating bullets back there, Rima. Don't consider it was because the air-cooling system was on the fritz, either."

Rima accelerates her pace so she can catch up with him and rests her head briefly on his shoulder. "It'll be okay," she says, smiling.

He shrugs, "How about you?"

Rima chews on her bottom lip. "I feel very good about the multiple-choice." She grimaces. "But I'm never sure about the essay. Always feel I could have written more."

Suddenly we start to hear the flood of people screaming and stampeding straight toward us.

The guards take a protective stand in front of us, lined up shoulder to shoulder. They heft their guns, aiming them at the crowd. "Halt!" The guard on my left shout at them. "Disperse at once!"

"Halt?" Sam whispers. "What is this, the middle ages?"

Rima shushes him, her mouth open, eyes eliciting a look of scare mimicked by the faces of the crowd frantically coming our way. These people are unclean, smeared with dust, with blood. White lab coats are no longer white. Rima grabs Sam's hand. He pressed her fingers with his own.

"Holy shit," he says. "What's going on?"

"Halt" The guard begins to scream, but a gunshot rings out over the clamor. It's the head guard, the one who holds the activation key for all our DECs.

The crowd dawdles as his laser sight lands on the chest of one of the front-runners. It's a man, a whitecoat sporting clearance level-three, according to the ID card attached to his lapel, Tears run down his cheeks, His shirt's rumpled

"What's happened?" the lead guard says.

The man's eyes flit around. From the guards to the red dot hovering over his chest, to us, He turns to face the way he came and shivering, raises a finger. "Someone's broken in," he mutters.

I gape. The Facility's been invented so that something like a break-in never happens. There are locks everywhere on every door and at every point of entry, each requiring the correct voice command and an approved retinal scan to unlock. Key card and input codes change hourly. The walls of the facility are reinforced concrete and steel lattice-work, the doors galvanized two-inch-thick steel. There's no way what this man says is the truth.

The guard appeared to share my opinion because he grunts and floats his laser sight to another - a stocky woman, a cleaner by the looks of her black smock and rubber gloves. Bleach wafts off her in waves.

"What's going on?" he says.

She too turns and gazes back the way they came. "They've—"

The hallway behind her goes dark. Red emergency lights all over the place, giving the hallway menace and bite.

"They're here!" the man screams, and the crowd moves as one, barreling into the line of guards. I barely have time to step aside from them before they're rushing past. A few get held in the stampede and slam into the ground. Faces bounce off the tile, a few teeth explode from opened mouths.

David grabs my arm. I whip around and lock eyes with him. "What do we do?" I ask, watching a few guards fight their way through the crowd to inspect the corridor. Smoke out from its depths like dragon's breath. A woodsy scent taints the air.

"You need to trust me," is all he says.

I blink. The lights in our entrance shudder before plunging us into darkness. Rima screams. A few seconds later, the emergency lights kick on, and we're drowned in a diffused red glow. I look trying to find the head guard. He's one of the casualties. His body lays in awkward right angles, his arms crushed at the elbows and wrists, his legs shattered at the shins

"What are you doing?" David says.

I search through the guard's pockets, find the activation key, and press disengage. The electronic DECs return to their slim, metallic rings.

"Nice one," Sam says. With giddy fingers, he whips the chip-free. It falls to the ground in a pool of blood. I can't tell whose blood it is. I too, remove the chip from my neck, pocket it, and then kick the corpse over.

Marava winces. "Christ, that's ugly."

His face is split open at the mouth, Shards of his visor stick out of what little is left of his cheeks. I choke back vomit and peel the gun from his hands.

Again, Sam applauds my quick thinking and since he seems so happy with our current situation, I chuck the gun at his chest. He catches it awkwardly, and then, gives me a curious look.

"You seemed so gun-happy." I focus my gaze on the corridor. The sound of gunshots reaches my ears. I inhale through clenched teeth. Smoke's begun to fill the hallway.

"But I've never shot one before," Sam stammers.

"My educated guess? You aim and pull the goddamn trigger. Try not to kill one of us by mistake."

With trembling fingers, Sam raises the gun, points it down the hall. Rima holds onto his hand, helping to steady him. He looks relieved by her gesture.

"And don't by accident slip over the bodies and give our position away."

Once again, David grabs my arm. "You need to trust me," he says.

Footsteps, slow and heavy, echo down the hall. The first flash of flame laps the edges of the corridor. A human-shaped shadow appears across the opposing wall.

More human shadows follow, and the footsteps grow louder as they draw near.

I scowl at David. "And why's that?" I hiss.

He puts his hands on my shoulders, and I bristle under the force of his grip. "Because," he says, stiffening as a red dot skims the front of his uniform. He puts his arms in the air and stands. "They're here for me."