Black Oil, Red Blood

Chapter 36



As I ran, I kept my eyes peeled for faces in windows and cars on the street. At first, I jogged steadily. Then I started to worry that a woman running around in a Stetson hat and high heels might look suspicious. After that, every time I saw a car or a face in the window, I lowered my head and slowed to a walk.

Even though it was still early, it felt like the temperature was already in the upper nineties, and as always in this area, the humidity was high, making it feel even hotter.

It didn’t take long for my heels to start rubbing blisters in my ankles. Not to mention the terrible pinch in the toes. I took them off and clutched them hard as my bare feet pounded pavement. The sidewalk was heating up with the day and began to burn me. I switched to the grass, running through people’s front lawns.

Unfortunately, a lot of lawns were covered with sticker burr plants, and I kept having to stop and pick stickers out of my feet. Tiny little blood pricks dotted my soles and the sides of my feet. I sighed. This wasn’t going to work.

I cursed my shoes and put them back on. I would just have to endure the pain as I limped hurriedly along. I knew I looked ridiculous.

The neighborhood seemed a little more populated this morning than usual. The residents of Kettle were starting to appear in their front yards, watering plants, pruning bushes, and knocking on neighbor’s doors for a morning chat. The grapevine must already be active.

I slowed to a walk, nodding good morning to anyone who looked my way. I was starting to freak out a little. At this rate, I’d never make it to Miles’s house in time to save Nash.

As I rounded the corner onto Fifth Street, only one-third of my way to my destination, I saw rusty gold lying in the driveway of an old wooden house. A bicycle! A big, pink girl’s bicycle with an 80s-style flowered white basket on the handlebars! If I took it, it’s not like I would be stealing it, I told myself. I would bring it back.

Then the lawyer in me remembered a bunch of larceny law, and I felt a pang of guilt. Okay, yes, it would be stealing, even if I brought it back, but it was for such a good cause! And it was necessary. I’d have to use the necessity defense if I got caught.

Willing myself not to overthink it, I glanced furtively around, hoping no one was watching. Seeing no one, I grabbed the bike, tossed my shoes in the basket, and pedaled as fast as I could.

I was almost to Miles’ house when Cameron’s cell phone rang.

I picked it up. “Are you set up?” I huffed.

“Ten-four,” Cameron said. “Where are you?”

“I found a bike. I’m almost there. What’s happening?”

“Nash is still stuck in that room,” Cameron said. “Fitz is focusing on media spin for now. He’s fielding phone calls left and right. I’ve tried to look up some of the numbers, and a lot of them are to Mineral Management Services and other agencies in Washington D.C. I have a feeling he’s trying to call in some favors.”

“What did they do with Dick’s body?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I can only look at so many cameras at once. I’ve got one on Nash and one on Fitz.”

“How about the building schematic? Do you have that pulled up?”

“Yes,” Cameron said. “If you take the Meadow Road entrance to the back of the refinery, there are a bunch of old, rusty barrels stacked out by the creek. There’s a door back there that leads through a giant concrete retaining wall in an open-air warehouse area where they fill and load barrels of gasoline and chemicals. Let me know when you’re there, and I’ll loop the camera feed so it looks like you’re not there.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll call you back.”

I rode the rest of the way to Miles’ house. When I got there, I popped inside for a glass of water and a fresh shirt. My body was soaked with sweat, and I felt like I’d lost ten pounds in water weight on the trip over here. I selected one of his designer tees, which was made to fit him tight and show off his pecs. It fit perfectly on me. And it actually kind of looked cute in a redneck punk kind of way with my heels.

I hopped in his car and raced to the refinery, taking the Meadow Road entrance. The trip took me three minutes in the car. When I got close, I pulled out the cell phone and dialed Gracie’s land line.

“I’m here,” I said.

Miles walked me through parking the car outside of the security video feed.

“All right,” I said. “I’m parked. Run the loop. Tell me when.”

There was a pause. I used the time to mutter a quick prayer, begging for this plan to work.

“Okay, the loop is running,” Cameron said. “When you go in, I’ll jump the loop from camera to camera and follow you. If you can try to stay out of sight of actual people, I’ll do my best to keep you off the security feed. First thing I’m going to do is take you to a supply closet. That’s where they keep the spare protective jumpsuits everyone wears. If you can find one of those and get into it, you’ll blend in a lot better. That sound okay to you?”

“Sounds good to me,” I said. “Okay, I’m going in.”

I ran toward a rusty chain metal fence that abutted the barrels and planted myself behind them. They smelled to high heaven and appeared to be leeching chemicals into the nearby creek. That didn’t bode well for the safety of the groundwater in the area.

Edging my way past the barrels, I made a run for a large concrete wall with a door in it. My heels snagged on a piece of scrap metal and I fell, putting a gash in my knee.

Wiping away the blood, I got back on my feet and proceeded more carefully.

High above me, on the other side of the wall, smoke stacks belched smoke and fire. PetroPlex was burning off chemical leaks with flares, filling the air with toxic clouds. The roar of the flames serenaded me on my journey inward.

I crept forward and used the credit card on the lock. It worked. I cracked the door open. Before me was a large storage yard. Big, open—a large concrete-encased room with no ceiling. It was full of barrels and opened out onto a busy loading dock on the other end.

“Try to stay behind the barrel inventory,” Cameron said. “If you can do that, you can get to the other side of the dock and get through the door. From there, if you go left, that will take you deeper into the refinery. Right will get you to the corporate offices. You want to go right.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

I waited until the workers had their attention glued to several of the large barrels that were being crane-lifted out of the warehouse area and into the loading dock. Then I slipped through the door, shutting it softly behind me.

I ran towards the giant drums and wedged myself in between the wall of barrels and the back wall of the warehouse. There was just enough space for a very thin woman to edge through.

I lowered the phone, flattened myself against the wall, and went in. The air was hot and putrid. The chemical smell in such close quarters was almost overpowering. I fought to breathe. Fought the nausea welling up inside my stomach. Even though the barrels were sealed, there had been small leaks during the filling process, and the evaporation from the gasoline leaks burned my nostrils.

I passed one barrel, two, three. Then five and ten. Eleven. Fifteen. Some of the barrels were tighter squeezes than others, and my phone scraped against them as I pressed myself through.

After what seemed like an eternity, I reached the end. There was at least a fifteen yard run out in the open to the door.

I lifted my phone to my ear and whispered, “Cameron?”

“I’m here,” he said.

“There must be a hundred people out on the dock. I’ll never make it.”

“Hold on,” he said. “Let me create a distraction.”

As I watched, one of the conveyor belts malfunctioned. Dock workers swarmed over it, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Go! Go!” Cameron said. “Hallway’s clear!

I ran for it, barely breathing in the fifteen yards it took to reach the door.

I slipped through it and found myself in an empty hallway, Cameron’s phone glued to my ear.

“Watch out!” Cameron said. “Incoming! There’s an empty office a hundred yards down the hall on your right. Run!”

I ran. “Which office?” I whispered.

“Almost there,” Cameron said. “Keep running!”

I ran. “Tell me when.”

“Now! Now! On the right!”

I grabbed the office doorknob and skidded to a stop, then ducked inside.

“Tell me when I’m clear,” I said.

“Okay, wait for it.”

I had one ear jammed to the doorway and the phone pressed to my other ear. I heard two guys having a conversation as they walked down the hall.

“It’s a bad business,” said one guy with a gruff voice. “Bet half of us lose our jobs before it’s all over with.”

“I dunno,” said a guy with a higher pitched, smoother voice. “Fitz is no dummy. Word is, some lunatics killed Lewis this morning, and Fitz already has one of the guys locked up somewhere in the building. He shot the other one in his office.”

“What was that guy doing in Fitz’s office?”

“After the dude killed Lewis, he came to kill Fitz, too. Fitz had no choice.”

So that was going to be the party line. Self defense.

I listened as the voices and footsteps faded.

“Okay,” Cameron said. “You’re clear. Step out the door and keep going right.”

I did. “How far away is Nash?”

Cameron cleared his throat. “Um, far.”

“How far is far?”

“Up on the sixth floor at the other end of corporate. It’s not too late to turn around and get out of there.”

“Nothing doing,” I said. “I’m already here. So far, so good. Just keep helping me, okay?”

“Okay,” Cameron said resignedly. “Just so you know, Miles is in the other room crying and promising Lucy he’ll take care of her when you’re gone. He thinks you’re never going to make it out of there.”

“We’ll just have to prove him wrong.”

I fast-walked down the hall. “Where to next?” I asked.

“When this hallway dead-ends, take a left.”

I stopped at the corner and peeked around it. Seeing no one, and reassured that Cameron was doing his job properly, I rounded the corner and hurried down the corridor.

Several office doors were open. I took off my shoes and stopped at each one, peeking around the corner to make sure no one was looking before I crept past. Luckily, most of the employees inside had their desks turned towards the outside windows and not towards the hallway doors. I couldn’t say I blamed them. I’d rather face the sunshine than an empty, beige hallway any day.

Suddenly, three successive chimes rang out. It sounded like some kind of alarm.

“What’s that?” I whispered into the phone.

Cameron cleared his throat again. “Well,” he said. “I may have engineered a small pressure drop in the catalytic converter. That’s the alarm sounding for non-essential personnel to clear out. Most everyone is already down in the control room, though. Why do you think the hallways are so empty right now?”

Oh, geez. I had been so focused on getting inside that it didn’t even occur to me that the halls might be uncharacteristically clear. A pressure decrease sounded better to me than a pressure increase, anyway, but what did I know?

“Is that dangerous?” I asked.

“Yeah, kind of,” Cameron said. “But I think I’ve got the pressure under control. I won’t let it get too low.”

“What happens if it gets too low?” I asked.

“The flow reverses and the whole refinery gets enveloped in a big, yellow, oily, toxic cloud. If you haven’t got protective gear on, you’re kind of screwed.”

“Okay,” I said. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Me too.” Cameron sighed. “Okay, fifty yards down the hall to your right is the supply closet. Duck in there and see if you can find a jumpsuit that fits.”

I continued down the hall, stopping at open doors doing the “peek and go” routine until I got to the supply closet.

When I opened the door, the light came on automatically. I slipped in and shut the door softly behind me.

“Okay, I’m in the closet,” I said.

“I know, I see you. The loop is running. Take your time. Nash is still on ice. Find a jumpsuit that fits.”

I saw a bunch of boxes on the shelves labeled “DuPont Tyvek QC Coveralls.”

I put down the phone, went to one that was labeled “small,” opened the box, and pulled one out. It was bright school bus yellow and made out of a coated fabric. The suit included built-in rubber-soled boots, long sleeves with elastic wrist closures, a hood, and a zip-up front. I unzipped the suit, scrapped my high heels, and stepped in.

After zipping it up and tightening the hood around my face, I also grabbed a pair of gloves for good measure and put them on. I topped off the whole outfit with a paper mask, similar to what you’d see doctors wearing in an operating room, and then covered my eyes with safety glasses. They weren’t dark glasses, but I felt like they added an extra measure of protection. Besides, all the workers in the dock had them on. I wouldn’t want to stand out by not having glasses on, too.

I picked the phone back up. “Cameron?” I whispered.

“I’m here,” he said. “I’ll have to keep a close eye on the cameras. It’ll be easy for you to get lost in the crowd now.”

“Great,” I said. “That doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence.” Especially since the catalytic converter alarm continued to chime.

“Did you have a lot going in?” Cameron said.

I chose not to answer. “Where to now?”

“Go out the door and continue right. Take the second left and continue down to the dead end. Go left from there and look for the stairway at the end of the hall.”

“What about the elevator?” I asked.

“Better not risk it. You look good, but you never know.”

I walked quickly down the hall and found the staircase, the ding, ding, ding of the alarm punctuating my every step.

“Good, Cameron said. “Sixth floor.”

I groaned, contemplating a six-story stair climb after my long run and bicycle ride. As I climbed the stairs, I felt my calves burn. I was huffing and puffing by the time I got to the sixth floor, sweating up a storm inside my coated fabric suit.

The thought of getting to Nash kept me going, even though I still wasn’t sure what I’d do when we got there.

“Okay,” Cameron said. “When you go out the door, hang a right. Walk about thirty yards down and take your second left. If anyone sees you, just say hello and keep walking. Pray they don’t notice your lack of ID. Nash is in the room at the very end of the hall on the left. There’s a guy standing outside the room. When you get there, hand him the phone. Tell him Fitz wants to talk to him. I’ll do my best Fitz impression.”

I did what Cameron said, hanging a right, walking down and taking the second left into a very long hallway. I could see a guy in a security uniform standing in front of a door at the other end, shifting nervously from one foot to the other as he stared up at the alarm chime speaker box mounted to the ceiling.

I started talking into the phone loudly, to make sure the guard could hear me. I wasn’t talking to Cameron, but to an imaginary Fitz. “Yeah, I know about the catalytic converter. I heard the alarm. Well, what do you want me to tell him? What about the guy? If you leave him in there and the thing blows. . . Okay, fine, I’ll get him out of there.”

As soon as I’d started talking, the security guard’s attention snapped onto me. I looked him in the eye as I walked towards him.

When I got to him, I held out the phone. “Fitz wants to talk to you,” I said.

I could hear the faint echo of Cameron’s voice as he did his Fitz impression.

“Get Nash out of there and bring him down to my office,” Cameron said. “Then get outside with everyone else. I’ll handle Nash.”

“Why didn’t you call me on the com frequency?” the guard asked suspiciously.

“That’s none of your business!” Cameron snapped. “When I give you an order, I expect you to move! Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir,” the guy said, handing me back my phone and unlocking the door.

Cool. I didn’t even have to use my credit cards. I snapped the phone temporarily shut. I’d have to call Cameron back once we figured out a way to get rid of the guard.

Nash was sitting at a bare table in a wooden chair, his hands folded in front of him on the table’s surface.

His guard uncuffed him. “Up,” he told Nash. “The boss wants you.”

Nash got up from the table. He didn’t recognize me in all my safety gear. He limped toward the door.

The security guard cuffed his hands in front of him and took him by the arm, leading him forward.

Nash limped along without saying a word, his eyes scanning for any opportunity to get loose.

I purposely walked a bit slower and fell a few steps behind them. I was hoping to make a move before we got to the other end of the empty hallway.

I halfway unzipped my chemical suit and reached around to the small of my back, where my gun was safely tucked away. I pulled it out and softly crept forward.

Both hands on the barrel of the gun, I raised it over my head and brought it down on the security guard’s skull. It hit with a crack.

Unfortunately, instead of taking him totally down, it just kind of stunned him a little.

That was all the time Nash needed. Nash lassoed the guy’s neck with his arms and pulled backwards, using the handcuff chains to place pressure on his windpipe.

The guard lashed out, knocking Nash back up against the wall. I pointed my gun at the guard. His eyes went wide with a deer in the headlights look, and he stopped struggling. Finally, unable to breathe, the guy passed out.

I lowered my gun and pulled the paper mask down around my neck. “It’s me,” I said.

Nash’s jaw dropped. “Wow. You are even crazier than I gave you credit for.”

“What?” I asked. “You’re not happy to see me?”

“Oh, I’m happy to see you, all right.” He pulled the guard’s keychain off his belt and unlocked his cuffs before enveloping me in a giant hug.

The effect on me wasn’t quite the same as it would have been if I hadn’t been encased in a coated chemical suit, but it felt good to hold him, nevertheless.

“How did you get here?” Nash asked, disarming the guard and taking his gun for himself.

I quickly told him about the marathon to Miles’ car and Cameron’s hacking ingenuity. “Everybody’s either in the control room or outside,” I said. “They think the catalytic converter is about to blow.”

“Is it?”

“I don’t know. Cameron says he has it under control,” I said.

My cell phone buzzed. I picked it up. I could hear Lucy barking in the background and the sound of Miles panicking.

“Somebody’s coming,” Cameron said. “We have to get out of here.”

My stomach dropped down to somewhere around my ankles. “What do we do? What do we do?”

“I’m taking down the entire video surveillance system so nobody else can track you,” Cameron said. “Get Nash back to the supply closet and get a suit on him. Then walk out of there.”

“The supply closet is all the way on the other side of the building! I don’t remember how to even get back there!”

“Do your best. I’ll call you when we’re clear.”

The line went dead.

I swore. “We lost Cameron. He took down video surveillance, but if we meet anyone in the hallways, we’re dead meat for sure. I have to get you into a suit so we can get out of here.”

“Don’t bother,” he said. “The limp will give me away anyway. Put your mask back on and take my arm, like you’re escorting me somewhere. It’s a good thing you’re tall. Nobody will be able to tell you’re a woman in there.”

“Where do we go?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Nash said impatiently. “Out! How’d you get in?”

“With the Cameron Gilbert GPS system,” I said.

“Okay, we’ll just have to figure it out.”

I took Nash’s arm, and he began limping along beside me.

“How’s your foot?” I asked.

“It hurts,” he said simply.

I tried to remember the combination of turns that brought me here. In reverse, that would be. . . what? Left, then right, then left? I couldn’t remember. All the hallways looked the same. Nothing on the walls, which were painted solid beige.

“I think maybe we better just follow the exit signs,” I said. “The problem is, we have no way of knowing which way is the right exit. We need to get back to the supply yard so we can get out under cover with access to a vehicle.”

“Okay, it’s trial and error then,” Nash said. “Let’s go.”

For the most part, the hallways were deserted. The chiming alarm continued to sound. I wondered what would happen to the catalytic converter now that Cameron wasn’t actively monitoring it. Did that mean we were about to have a real catastrophe on our hands?

We occasionally passed people who were fully suited up and wearing respirators. They were so consumed with managing the emergency they barely gave us a second look.

We were making progress. I started to even think we might have a hope of making it out.

I started hoping just a little too soon.

The alarm chimed again, and Dorian burst out of an office door and barreled down the hall toward us.