When they made it to the Plan B room, Nolan's rib cage shook with each beat of his heart. The halls were deathly silent and empty. Nolan looked down at the black and white tiles as Samuel fumbled with his key card and thought, There's a smudge on that square. I should go get the mop and…
No. For better or worse, Nolan would never again scrub the floors again. That much he knew for sure.
“Samuel, what are we—
“Shh!” Samuel whipped around. His eye was the frenzied gaze of a man on a mission. Beside him the card reader beeped and Samuel pushed the door open. “Inside,” he said, slinking into the blackness.
Nolan followed on weak legs. The door clicked behind him and, for a moment, the two men stood in the dark. Nolan heard Samuel fumble for the switch and click it on.
The girls lay in neat rows, human incubators, ripening in the dark. A vision of a farm crept up into Nolan's mind. That's how the doctors see them, he thought. Like crops. And if a stalk of corn isn't producing you cut it down and throw it in the thresher. But they're people. Some of them little girls.
They walked to Angel's bed, their boots clomping too loudly on the tile. But, then why should they fear? No one suspected that an old man and his new apprentice were going to do something completely crazy.
When he saw her, Nolan drew in a sharp breath. She looked drained, a pale corpse sucked of blood. The blue veins that had wound up her arm now crept up her neck and down her legs. Hollows had formed at her collar bones and cheeks. Nolan reached a trembling finger out and touched her, expecting her skin to feel like his dah's—cold and lifeless. But when his finger brushed skin, there was still warmth.
“She looks … dead.” He turned to Samuel for answers.
The old man began unhooking cables and tubes. “If we aren't fast, she will be. Help me.” With trembling fingers, Samuel began to punch numbers into the monitor beside the bed.
Nolan watched, feeling helpless. “What do I do?”
Samuel’s finger paused above the key pad. “Unhook her. Then get her out of bed.”
Nolan did his best, detaching sticky pads on her chest, unwinding tubing from her nose. There was other tubing that disappeared up under the hem of her hospital gown that Nolan couldn't bring himself to investigate. Luckily Samuel spared him by doing it himself. Soon the girl was detached. She lay there, pale and barely breathing.
“What now?” Nolan whispered. What in the world would they do with her?
“Pick 'er up,” Samuel said, digging in his coveralls’ pocket and pulling out a set of keys. “Got us a truck.”
Nolan stared at the keys dangling from Samuel's calloused fingers. He must've been planning this for some time. Maybe this wasn't a death mission after all.
Above, an alarm screamed. Nolan flinched.
“Goddamn it!” The old man’s eye lit with panic. “Get her” —he pointed to the girl— “and run!”
Nolan hefted the girl into his arms. She was as light as his dah and he had no trouble carrying her. Yet, panic was blaring in his brain in time with the alarm. Why were they doing this if they all were bound to die? He looked down into Angel's face. Was she even in there?
Her lips pursed once as if to say, Run, you idiot.
He did what she bid him.
They ran to a door at the back of the room. The old man produced a metal key, slipped it in the lock and popped the door open. Another equally dark space awaited on the other side. Banishing fear, Nolan ran into the dark.
They came out into a long service hallway. It smelled like dust and mildew. Samuel locked the door behind them.
“Guards won't know this route. Only us shit cleaners know.” Samuel patted the wall, a frenzied glee in his eye. “They always did underestimate me.”
Nolan didn't like how crazy Samuel sounded, nor the way his hands trembled, but what choice did he have?
“Which way?” he asked. The girl was growing heavier by the minute and he thought he heard the pounding of boots. He didn't want to know what a bullet felt like entering his back. “Which way?!”
Samuel took off running, a limp hitching his step. They tore down the dark hallway to another door which Samuel unlocked and opened. This time, when Nolan tore through a door, he knew they were closer to escape. This dark room smelled like motor oil and fresh air. Once his eyes adjusted, a garage came into view, with several bay doors and hulking forms resting on cement pads. Vans and trucks, he realized. And the little trickle of light came from the outside. Freedom.
Maybe they wouldn't die after all.
Pounding made Nolan jump. Behind him, the steel door throbbed as someone on the other side beat it. “Open up!” a male voice said. “By order of the law!”
“Screw your law and your mothers!” Samuel shouted. He grabbed Nolan's arm and pulled him down the steps. “Truck’s this way! Move!”
Nolan ran. His arms ached under the weight of the girl, but he pulled her tight and pushed through the pain. Samuel opened the passenger door on the first truck and waved Nolan forward. “In here!”
Nolan slid the girl onto the bench seat. Samuel ran over to the wall and began punching numbers into a key pad beside the bay door. Behind them, the wall shook with a steady pounding. The guards were ramming the door. It’d only be a matter of seconds.
Nolan ran back to Samuel. Behind them, the door moaned as a hinge gave way. The guards were moments from killing them.
Samuel tossed him the keys. “Start the truck!”
Nolan slipped in the driver's side and turned the ignition. The truck roared like a beast waiting to be unleashed. He’d forgotten that these were the top of the line vehicles and not the barely-held-together trucks he was used to. He revved the engine and it purred loudly. “Let's go!”
Samuel punched the last key and the bay door curled up into the ceiling. On the other side, daylight waited. Nolan's heart jumped at the sight of it. The girl moaned on the seat beside him. Then the guards burst through the door.
Nolan watched it all in the rear-view mirror. The steel door jangled open, one hinge splitting, the casing coming apart in a spray of wood and plaster. Guards in riot gear queued up behind the door, aiming high-powered, scoped monsters that would blow his chest and head to bloody chunks. He turned resigned eyes to Samuel. One last look at his friend before he'd be sent to his maker in a rain of bullets.
Samuel's face held no defeat. The old man's frenzy had taken over his whole body. Wild eyed, hair flying, his supervisor tore towards the guards and their big black guns. A battle cry flowed out of his lips as he raised his handgun.
“Drive, lad!” was what he yelled as he opened fire on the Breeder's guards. “Drive, goddamn you!”
Nolan waited a beat, his heart pounding. When the first bullet struck Samuel in the chest, Nolan gasped. Then he pressed his foot to the floor and followed his friend's last wishes.