Chimera (The Korsak Brothers #1)(22)

It was hard to tell with only the fast glance I could allow him and his strangely unemotional fa?ade, but I thought he seemed relieved. My attention was jerked away as I saw two men, the ever-present khaki brigade, enter the other end of the hall. Shoving Lukas before me when we reached the door to the basement, I whirled and tossed the grenade I’d taken from my belt. It was a standard smoke one. I had tear gas as well, but I was hesitant to use it so close to the other kids. As heavy white smoke billowed and blocked the men from view, there was the sharp bark of guns being fired. I didn’t wait to see how good their aim was in whiteout conditions. Diving through the door after Lukas, I slammed it behind me and rushed headlong down the stairs. I caught up with him halfway down and took a handful of his pajama top to hurry him along.

He didn’t complain or protest. He barely reacted at all, as obedient as a programmed robot. I didn’t like it. It was unnatural, wrong, but as with other things, I didn’t have the luxury of thinking about it right then. Staying alive and getting my brother out of this place made up my entire to-do list at the moment. Hitting the bottom, I saw Saul facing us several feet away. He had double handfuls of the more serious firepower: tear gas and stun grenades. “Move your shit,” he snapped.

My shit and I complied with alacrity and took Lukas past the medical equipment and computers and out into the night air. The sound of hissing gas and ear-ringing explosions followed us as Saul heaved his grenades up the stairwell. I knew he would be pushing us out of the way from behind like a fullback if we didn’t get going, and I charged up the concrete stairs with Lukas like a runaway train. I didn’t even break stride with the first man I shot. The second one, unfortunately, didn’t go down quite as easily.

Halfway across the pseudo-hospital room I’d once again drawn my gun. I’d known from the beginning that I would do what was necessary to free Lukas, no matter the cost. But I had thought I might hesitate when it came to pulling the trigger, if only for a second. I had thought I would pause before sending a bullet into a warm, living son of Man.

I didn’t.

The first one went down with lead in the stomach. That’s the way you were taught to shoot a person. Aim for the biggest target; aim for the torso. The police learned that, as did the rest of us who had less-admirable excuses for our violence. Whatever my justifications, I was already firing again as the first man hit the ground and his gun went flying. His partner, beefy and broad shouldered, was quicker on his feet. He twisted and dodged for cover toward the corner of the building. I was lucky to get one in his thigh and luckier that the bullet he squeezed off in our direction was only an evil buzz past my ear.

Giving Lukas a hard shove, I commanded, “Run!” As before, he did as he was told, without question. From behind us came another detonation, a much larger one than before. Saul had brought the genuine explosives into play. No one would be coming after us through the basement, because by now it was nothing more than a smoking ruin.

I kept just behind my brother as we ran. Saul, who passed us within seconds, kept ahead by a few feet. The son of a bitch could run like the wind, whatever his crappy taste in shirts. As for taste, no one could fault him his preference in weapons, an MP5 submachine gun. Granted, I was the one who had scored it among many others, but he’d had the good sense to choose it. And the good sense to use it.

Reading hard-core mysteries these days, I’d heard the clichéd description hail of bullets countless times. I’d scoffed at it then and I cursed it now. It wasn’t hail. It was a fatal swarm of enraged hornets, whose slightest touch would kill and whose speed couldn’t be captured by the eye. They flew both ways, those hornets, but it didn’t make me feel any better. As one of the two guards posted at the gate began firing in our direction, I tackled Lukas to the ground. The air burst from his lungs in an audible grunt as I landed on top of him, but he didn’t move beneath me as I returned the fire. Saul had thrown himself down to do the same with much more effect than I was having with my handgun. One guard fled for his life and one didn’t have a life left to worry about. As I was getting to my feet, I caught a whiff of shampoo and toothpaste from the still figure beneath me. It gave me such a staggering flood of homesickness for a time long gone that the free hand I used to urge Lukas up clenched on his shoulder a little harder than necessary. He didn’t react or wince. His focus was elsewhere, eyes fixed on the downed guard as he murmured, “Just a test.”

I ignored the incomprehensible words and, relaxing my grip as best I could, pushed him back into motion. Saul was already at the gate and opening it. Lukas and I rushed past to one of the vans Saul had described from the children’s “field trip.” Saul and I had thought about leaving a car down the road for our escape but dismissed the idea instantly. We’d never make it that far on foot without being caught. The best next thing we’d decided was to make use of the transportation available. Then we could drive to our getaway vehicles that would be less likely discovered farther from the compound.

Inside the van I went to work unscrewing the steering column. I’d not actually stolen too many cars. Considering how I’d grown up and my father’s position in the hierarchy, that wasn’t all that surprising. By the time I turned sixteen, I already had two cars waiting in the garage for me. The necessity had not been there, but you never knew when a little knowledge would get you out of a huge mess. So I kept my hand in because practice does make perfect. The proof of that came thirty seconds later when the van started. Over my shoulder Lukas was watching me work, still calm and still in a place I couldn’t understand or touch. “Did you lose your key?”