Chapter #33In Plain Sight by: Seuzz   You stare slack-jawed at the open door, then scramble over to peer out. A long, wide corridor runs in either direction, pierced regularly by more metal doors. A soft klaxon sounds. Your guard is just disappearing around a corner at the far end.
You glance around, feeling utterly baffled. The hell?
Still, getting caught in the corridor can't be worse than getting caught in that cell. You wrap the robe around you and trot out.
One end of the corridor ends in a blind wall, so you have to follow the guard the other way. You scurry along quietly, but just as you're nearing a turn you hear the trod of heavy boots. You flinch against the wall, expecting at any moment to feel truncheons against your torso. To your astonishment, half a dozen heavily armed men jog past while completely ignoring you. They trot up to your cell, jostling each other as they try to peer in. Hoarsely, they shout to each other. Then they turn and jog back in your direction.
Again, you press against the side of the corridor. They stare directly at you, through you, until they pass, returning whence they came.
You fall in directly behind them, running quietly in their wake, willing as hard as you can that no one notice the lanky, white-robed figure who so clearly doesn't belong in their company.
They lead you into an open atrium--through which you'd passed on your way to your cell--with wide staircases leading up to other levels, and corridors branching in other directions. The guards fan out, each taking a different stairway or corridor. You look around wildly, not comprehending in the least what is happening or what advantage to take of it. Your only coherent thought is to find Verity.
Or to hide.
There's a reception space in one corner: a wide desk with a doorway behind. The guards have mostly vanished from sight, but you hear hoarse shouting, and the approach of running feet. You dart behind the desk and duck beneath it.
"--check the security cameras?" someone says.
"No, we fanned out immediately."
"Save time if you checked."
From your hiding place you see two pairs of legs stride across and into that room, where you can only see the bottom of some counters and a chair. The two figures hunch briefly, speaking in low, cryptic tones. Then: "Well, he's not on this level. We'll seal this one and start checking the others. I'll get Day." One of the men leaves. The other stays for another minute, then also departs.
Cautiously you peer out. The atrium is empty. You jump at a rumbling sound, and heavy steel doors lower, sealing off the atrium. The klaxon continues to softly sound.
So the bad news is that you're now trapped here. The good news is that they think you're somewhere else.
Well, you have to assume that they're looking for you. Though that they should ignore you when you were right in front of them is utterly mind-boggling.
What to do?
Apparently there are monitors in the other room. Maybe you can use them to watch the search? You steal in and push the door to.
It's a control room of some kind, with three monitors and a bank of buttons. Every few seconds, each monitor shifts to a different room or corridor. They are all empty. You peer at the buttons, but many are unlabeled, and the labels of the others are inscrutable. It seems a bad idea to push any of them; you don't want to press anything that flashes "Will Prescott is here" in some other master control room.
You sit in the chair, wondering if your brain has cracked under the strain. You remember watching an old surrealistic movie with Christian and his friends, where a man, after being caught and threatened with torture, went mad and fantasized his escape even as he was still being held prisoner. Is that where you are? Imprisoned but mad?
A movement on one of the monitors catches your eye: three men striding along. Two are in those black armored uniforms. The third is that guy who gloated over you and French-kissed Joe.
You jump for the exit, just in time to see one of the metal doors rise and the three men come in. You jump back into the security room and hide behind the door. Stupidest hiding place ever--even Robert as a five-year-old never failed to find you there--but you grit your teeth and try willing yourself to invisibility. Hey, if you're crazy, maybe it's crazy enough to work again.
The three men enter, and fail utterly to notice you. As one of the guards bends over the control panel, you see a holstered gun at his hip.
The executive-type guy sits in the chair and starts pressing buttons, and the middle screen flicks to a view of a storage closet with an open door: presumably your holding cell. "Who was on duty?" he asks.
"I was, sir. Door was locked, but when I looked in he was gone."
"Well if we can't find him, at least we can find out how he got out and how long he's been loose." He taps the keyboard, and the image on the monitor vibrates slightly. A company of guards, moving comically fast, appears in the open doorway, then disappears. A few seconds later a figure in white--you--backs into the room, drops to his haunches while peering out, and crawls back inside to sit. A guard then appears in the doorway, glances around, pulls out, and closes the door.
Silence. The executive taps another button, and the sequence reverses. It freezes with the guard looking down directly at the prisoner.
The executive turns to the guard, his eyes only a fraction of a degree from centering on your face. "You say the room was empty. Do you need your eyes checked, Mr. Trelawney?"
"Sir, no, I-- I looked and there was-- He was-- I--"
"We'll take it up during your exit interview." He turns back to the monitor. "Now to see where he went."
Click click. The monitor shifts to the corridor. Backwards runs the squad across the screen; backwards it runs again, returning. A moment later a figure in white scampers backwards in the direction they had come. Click click. An angle between two corridors. A squad--six men in black and a youth in white--jog backwards into the angle; the white-clad lad disengages to cower in the corner as the others disappear around the corner, jogging backwards while facing the boy. He presses against the wall; a few seconds later, the guards reappear, jogging right past him again.
The executive collapses. "Not one of you saw him?" he shrieks. "What is he, a chamele--" He darts forward, to peer up at the monitor. "It's not invisibility," he mutters. "He's not casting an illusion in the camera. It's the opposite of--" He pulls out his cell phone and puts it to his ear. "Joseph, I need you down in beta right away, for some shadow piercing. Don't argue, lover." He drops the phone. "In the meantime," he murmurs, "let's see if we can figure out where he went."
Your heart, which has been beating to burst all this time, nearly explodes. Slowly, you reach for the pistol that dangles just within reach.
The guard shifts and you flinch back. On the screen you see yourself running toward the security desk and ducking behind it.
Even if you're invisible, surely they could grab you if they know you're in the room with them. Confirmation seems to come as your fingertips touch the cold pistol.
"For God's sake, he was six feet from you," the executive says.
You tug the grip. Nothing happens. Fuck. There's a snap holding it in place.
"Well well, he was in here too. For how long, I wonder."
You flick the snap. Again, the guard shifts, and you pull your hand back.
"And out we go. And then we run back inside and-- Hide behind the door?"
The executive turns and looks directly at you. You grin a rictus back. He frowns and turns back to the monitor.
You yank the gun out. It is heavy, and feels very hot in your hand.
The guard whirls, his hand to his hip. "The fuck? My piece!" He brushes against the door.
"Yo, boss man, what's this about--" Joe's voice echoes briefly, but the door, pushed by the guard, slams shut.
The executive slowly gets up, his eyes on the monitor. It shows the security room and its four inhabitants. One of them is staring at a monitor. One of them is wheeling around, feeling at himself. The third is gaping. The fourth has raised a trembling arm. The door is closed.
"You mean we've got two of them?" the executive cries, and turns with shining eyes on you. Still, he seems not to see you.
You raise the gun and wrap your finger around the trigger.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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