The Things We Bury - Part 2: No Big Apocalypse [Completed]

Chapter 11: Rebirth (Part 3 of 9)

The buzzing of the lock release could be heard down the entire length of the hall. The continuous droning, so unlike the normal short burst, was an alarm in itself. The whole lab would have been rushing toward the cell, if there were anyone else to hear it.

The small Heckler and Koch submachine gun pulled Barbara's right arm down with a satisfying weight. She'd taken it from the weapons locker in the guard station, when she duct taped down the switch for the security door. The gun locker had been left open and the Taser she'd taken off of the guard looked pitiful next to the array of weapons at her disposal.

At the door, where the buzzing was at its loudest, Barbara considered leaving the gun outside in case it frightened Donald. That boy was awfully skittish. But laying down the weapon would be stupid. So far it appeared that the gas had worked but the last thing she needed was to be caught by surprise by some guards who had made it to a gas mask in time.

She opened the door and was relieved to see that the kid's face was covered identically to her own. His eyes peered out through the goggle windows and his mouth was safely behind the filters. She hadn't relished the thought of carrying him to the car. He was no toddler. He was practically a teenager. Barbara would have needed to strap him to one of the rolling carts from the lab and wheel him through the complex but at least he was bright enough to follow instructions.

During the morning examination, she had slipped him the gas mask, a watch, and a note telling him to put it on at exactly 2:00 p.m. Barbara had placed a finger to her lips with a silent "shh" while Donald stared up at her with eyes full of wonder. But he didn't stand there gaping for long before he stashed everything under his pillow, as Barbara blocked the camera with her back.

"Dr. Barbara," he said when she entered the room. His voice was muffled but it didn't disguise his nervous excitement.

"Are you here to...?" He didn't finish his question, perhaps not sure of the words. Perhaps scared to hope.

"It's a rescue, kid. You want to get out of this dump?" She swung the H&K up to rest on her shoulder.

"Hell yeah." He raced around the bed and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"You can thank me once we're out of here. We have to keep moving." Barbara held him by the shoulder with her free hand and marched him out of there. The quick pace caused sweat to crawl down her face and the polyurethane lining of the mask began to cling to the skin and make it burn with heat.

She kept him moving until they reached the guard station. Donald stopped to rubber-neck and Barbara had to drag him away from the scene.

"Are they...dead?" he asked pointing to the bodies on the ground.

"No. They're just unconscious," she told the boy. "But they won't be for long." That incompetent fool, Palmer, had only managed to get an air deployed anesthetic being marketed to police forces. It put everyone out, but Barbara had a timeclock in her head ticking away the seconds before they all woke up.

Although the disclaimer on the tank did warn it shouldn't be used on people with heart problems, so there was some hope that it would kill the Proulx's. Barbara had briefly thought about seeking them out to make sure they stayed down. But that would have been indulgent.

They got to the end of the warren of tunnels and rode the elevator up to the fake office topside. The guard up there was passed out across his desk. Barbara made a quick detour to grab the keys to the Suburban that was used for supply runs.