...caressing riot-control tear gas and stun guns...
...seizing upon the Glock 22s and the M4 Carbines, then loading up armfuls of ammunition boxes onto the flatbed cart he kept handy.
Ray had passed Fergus by the time the two skidded to a halt outside Lizzy’s cell.
So many disturbing mental images had flashed through his brain by the time he got there, it was almost anticlimactic to see the open hatch and an empty room beyond it. Twelve thumbscrew soldiers stood sentinel on the spot where Fergus had sat the night before. They formed a curve on the concrete floor that looked like a smile.
“We’ve screwed the pooch, haven’t we?” Fergus said.
“You’re being kind. There’s no ‘we’ to this. I totally fucked up.” At that moment, he felt a cool breeze waft across his bare arms; it was scented with pine trees and decaying leaves instead of plastic and metal.
He took off toward the overhead doors.
Moments later, the two men stood in the opening of the building where all those shipments had arrived over the years. From their vantage, they could only see other storage buildings. Ray pressed the button, then didn’t wait for the sliding door to close. He jogged to the stairwell that led to the roof. Fergus trotted silently behind him.
Once outside, he ignored the spectacular sunrise blossoming in the east and headed straight for the storage bin he kept there. A rain gauge, a barometer, a tube of sun block, and a pair of high-powered Nikon binoculars were among the bin’s contents. He grabbed the last item and darted toward the south side of the roof, careful not to get too close to the edge. Heights had been known to trigger his occasional panic attacks.
“Do you see her?” Fergus asked in a voice that sounded carefully non-accusatory.
“No,” he replied, scanning the perimeter in a 360-degree sweep. “Nothing. Damn it.” He lowered the glasses, then peered at his new friend.
Fergus’s eyelids were closed. The skin surrounding the crimson beard looked paler than it had inside the warehouse. Was it due to the natural lighting or the thought of Lizzy roaming loose around the countryside?
“What’s wrong?” Ray said.
The eyelids flickered open. “Nothing. I’m fine. I think she might have gone south.”
“The direction you came from?”
“Yes. The direction your drone was flying when it spied the children.”
“What makes you think that? How could you know?”
“The same way I knew she had escaped, even though I was locked in a storage closet. May I?” he said, gesturing toward the binoculars. “There. See those tread marks leading into the tree line?”
Ray retrieved the Nikons and peered through them again, adjusting the setting, then zeroing in on a patch of ground next to the road leading to the facility. The road didn’t venture into the woodland beyond, but those tracks did.
“I’m sure those are from the cart that I keep inside the building. I don’t need to see that it’s gone to know she took it.” The image he’d conjured on the mad run to Lizzy’s cell flashed through his mind. Stupid...stupid...stupid.
“What all do you think she took?”
“I can’t answer that until I do an inventory.”
“I’m guessing it could be bad, though. You have weaponry stored here.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. It’s a critical part of disaster preparedness.” His tone sounded defensive even to his own ears.
“No judgment from me. I’m going to head out after her.” Fergus turned to go.
“I’ll come with you,” Ray said.
“What purpose would that serve? You’re not used to being outside, Ray. Think about it. I can move a lot faster on my own.”
The words felt like a gut punch.
Fergus must have read his thoughts.
“Now isn’t the time to tiptoe around fragile male egos. I have a better use for you, anyway.”
As they sped down the stairwell, Fergus revealed a plan both practical and simple. He would go after Lizzy while Ray delivered an urgent message to the children via the Freefly done: Don’t venture into the woods until Fergus gives you the okay.
“Wait until I can do a quick check of the items she took. You’ll need to know what you’re up against,” Ray said, veering down a side corridor.
“Make it fast,” Fergus replied, heading toward the kitchen area where he’d left his jacket.
“I will.” Ray took off at a run. He didn’t take the time to print out an inventory checklist. Many of the sensitive inventory items such as weapons and pharmaceuticals had been committed to memory, and those items were stored in secure areas.
Thankfully, Lizzy didn’t have access to the security codes.
When he stood outside the temperature-controlled room containing the drugs, his heart sank. Lizzy didn’t need the security code here. She had simply smashed the tempered glass of its window. Pebble-like shards surrounding an impossibly small opening were tinged with Lizzy’s blood. Under normal conditions, a guard would have been stationed here, restricting access to the Lorazepam, Oxycodone, and dozens of other powerful sedatives and painkillers. But three years after Chicxulub, the world was anything but normal.
Lizzy had been methodical in her selection.
Fergus’s voice came from behind. “What did she take?”
“Midazolam, the fastest-acting of the injectable sedatives, as well as a dozen syringes or so. Ketamine, which was nearing FDA approval for depression when the end came, but had also been abused as a street drug for its mood-altering and hallucinogenic qualities. Looks like she also took a field surgery kit, and some standard stuff like bandages and Quik-Clot. Quik-Clot is...”
“I’m familiar with Quik-Clot.”
Ray frowned. “Your life as a music professor becomes more interesting by the minute.”
Fergus ignored the comment. “Have you checked the weapons?”
“Not yet. Going there next.”
The news was even worse there than
