Under the Knife(115)

Sebastian ran over and knelt next to Cameron, opposite Rita.

“Come on,” he growled. “Let’s get him on his feet.”

She put her lips to Cameron’s ear. “Spencer, sweetie. It’s time to go.”

Cameron bit his lower lip and nodded, without opening his eyes.

“Count of three, Doc. One, two, three!”

An arm draped around each of their shoulders, Cameron screamed as they hoisted him up. So did Sebastian. The bastard was heavy, and it was like Sebastian could feel the jagged edges of his broken ribs rubbing against one another as he lifted him. Wu staggered under Cameron’s weight but kept her feet.

They lurched through the doorway, out of the makeshift operating theater. Sebastian cast a final glance back at Finney, lying where he’d fallen, the flames advancing toward him.

Nice doing business with you, boss.

The adjacent area felt cool, the one after that cooler, and the one after that, farther away from the fire, cooler still, the same as the surrounding night.

“Stop,” Wu panted. “I need … to stop … a second.”

“We don’t have time.”

“Just … for … a second.”

“A little farther.”

“No … can’t.”

Bad idea, Doc. They needed to put as much distance as possible between themselves and that goddamn fire. But, Christ: She looked like she was about to drop, so Sebastian stopped. Probably far enough away by now. They laid Cameron out on the floor. He groaned without opening his eyes.

Sebastian lifted his right arm and pointed, then winced: Goddamn but that hurt. He could barely move his right arm. Those broken ribs were a bitch. “Okay. We go this way, skirt the fire, double around, and make it back to the bridge—”

The first explosion.

A tremendous boom, familiar to Sebastian from all of the combat zones in which he’d ever served, rippling outward, an expanding wall of heated and compressed air.

There goes the acetylene.

Instinctively, he dropped to the floor next to Cameron, pulling Wu down with him and covering her with his body. The explosion ripped through half-finished walls and ceilings and floors, and rained hot shards of metal and building parts around them.

The direction in which Sebastian had been pointing a moment ago, the alternate route back to the bridge, was now in flames.

Shit.

“Okay. Change in plan.” He gestured toward a hallway leading from the opposite side of the room. “If we head—”

The second explosion.

Like an artillery shell, one of the red tanks blasted through the walls of the hallway he’d been pointing to, punching through the walls as if they’d been cardboard, leaving more flames in its wake.

Oh. Shit.

It was as if the goddamn fire had a mind of its own and was herding them in one direction: west. Away from the bridge, and Turner. Toward the other side of the construction area and the park.

Well, at least we’ll be safe in the park.

“Okay. Come on. Only one way we can go now.”

They struggled to lift Cameron up and got moving. Sebastian guided them down skeletons of corridors, grateful now for having memorized the blueprints. The floodlights for the construction zone had gone out, but the glow of the fire was enough to show them the way. Sebastian no longer worried about the security guards, who were no doubt preoccupied with the fire. A completed staircase got them to the ground floor, and a small hole in the green fence gained them the safety of the park.

They halted in the middle of the grassy area, which he and Finney had walked across today, well away from the fence. The rain had stopped, but the grass was soaked, and large puddles dotted the field. He felt a stiff, cold wind. Behind them he heard a din of sirens, fire alarms, and faint shouts. The lights in the other buildings around the park were out, their power a victim of the storm, the fire, or both. The sky was overcast. It was darker, away from the fire, and they appeared to be alone.

Cameron groaned. His pain was reflected in Rita’s face, just visible in the firelight. “He needs help. I’m going to go get it.” She made to leave.

“No, you’re not, Doc.”

Wu gaped at the gun in his hand. “What are you doing?”

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, and ignoring the pain in his right side, he glanced in the direction of the sirens. The first responders would be preoccupied with preventing the fire from spreading to Turner and evacuating the patients. He still had some time, and there was something he needed to do.

He owed her that.

“Shut up and listen. We don’t have much time.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“The bomb inside your sister’s head, Doc. I can deactivate it. But I need you to sit tight and be calm. Okay?”

She stared at him, her expression unreadable, then pursed her lips and nodded.

Goddamn nerves of steel.

Sebastian restored the gun to his waistband and took out his phone. It was time to see if Blade’s hacking program was worth the price he’d paid. He accessed the bomb’s signal, which appeared on his screen as a pattern of sinusoidal waves undulating next to a timer. The timer was at fifty-one minutes, twenty-three seconds and counting.

Counting down to her sister’s death.

“Look. There’s a control system, with a timer: an automatic countdown Finney had rigged, in case something happened, and he wasn’t able to detonate the bomb himself.” Much as the son of a bitch would have liked to, I’m sure. “Finney locked me out of the system, but I think I’ve worked out how to bypass his security.”