Lynch inspected the wall at the end of the corridor. “This plywood is new. This was open until just recently. He just drove the car in and boarded it up.”
Kendra shone her light into the car’s interior. What terror, what horrible sadness, poor Amanda Robinson must have felt here.
Lynch joined her at the car window as she peered into the interior. “Anything?”
“Looks like it’s been wiped clean. I don’t think you’ll find any fingerprints.”
“All it takes is a spot of blood or a drop of saliva. In a few hours, the team at the FBI garage will have this car in about a thousand pieces. If there’s something here, they’ll find it.”
“If there’s something here.” Kendra circled around and looked in the driver’s side window. “Unfortunately, we’re dealing with a killer who’s shown himself to be very good at covering his tracks.”
Kendra knelt beside the trunk and examined it. It was slightly ajar. She pulled her sleeve over her hand, then pulled the trunk lid open and up.
Whoa.
Lynch rushed toward her. “What’s in there?”
She covered her nose and mouth with her sleeve. “Nothing. Just that awful odor.”
“Yeah. I smell it too.”
“He killed her, then left her in here until he was ready to dump her body. Then he—”
Kendra’s nose was still burning. She felt nauseous and light-headed. What in the hell…?”
There was a different scent in the air. Stronger and more bitter than the sickly-sweet odor wafting up from the car trunk.
“Lynch?”
He staggered toward her, struggling to maintain his balance. “Go. Now.”
She turned her light back toward the hallway.
Dizzy.
She was vaguely aware of Lynch in back of her, pushing her forward. The hall was now littered with rats, dead or dying on the floor. Some were still, others trembled on their backs as if arrested by seizures.
The capsules.
Liquid from the broken glass capsules was now all over the hallway. It had combined to form something that now burned her nose and lungs.
Something dangerous. Something toxic …
Another wave of nausea rolled over her. This time she felt as if she might pass out.
Oh, God.
Whatever was in those capsules on that floor just might kill them.
She stumbled down the hallway.
Don’t fall.
Stay conscious.
Stay alive.
How much further?
She was hardly moving at all, she realized. What in the hell was this stuff?
“Hurry. Faster.” Lynch slurred his words. “Gotta … get out.”
Her eyes watered.
Her hands shook.
She dropped her phone, plunging them into almost total darkness.
“Lynch?”
“Right behind you. Don’t stop.”
She reached out, grabbed his arm, and pulled him toward her.
But now, in the darkness, she felt strangely at home. Just like old times.
She pushed forward, sliding her feet to avoid stepping on the squealing, trembling rats.
Keep moving.
She extended her right arm and used her palm to steady herself against the wall. She forced herself to take bigger steps, even as her legs turned to rubber.
She tried to hold her breath, but her eyes and nose still stung. Hot tears welled in her eyes.
Was this hallway actually getting longer?
Her face was numb. Her tongue felt as if it was three times too big for her mouth.
Hurts to breathe.
Hurts to move.
Her legs buckled.
“No!” Lynch was shouting at her like a drill sergeant. “Move! Now!”
She threw herself forward, letting the momentum carry her for the next few feet.
She reached behind her. Lynch wasn’t there.
“Lynch?”
“Go!” He coughed. “I’ll be okay.”
“For God’s sake, stop trying to be heroic. I can’t deal with it now.” Using his voice to zero in on him, she reached back, grabbed his arm, and pulled.
He coughed again. “Can’t … get my bearings.”
She half-dragged him behind her. “I can. Twenty years in the dark gave me lots of practice. Just hang on.”
Finally there was a pale glow ahead. “Almost there!” she called back. “Still with me?”
More coughing from Lynch.
“We can do this.” She pulled harder, and together they stumbled over the construction debris toward the office shell.
Just another few feet.
But her head buzzed and her lungs were exploding.
Daylight!
They hurtled through the office and ran outside, gulping the fresh air. They collapsed on the ground.
It was more than a minute before either of them could speak. Lynch caught his breath first. “You okay?”
Kendra nodded. “Yeah. I think so.” She couldn’t force enough air into her lungs. She was panting. “Still … hurts.”
“Me, too…” he gasped. “And … for your information … I never try to be heroic … I’m the genuine article.”
“Genuine … egotist.” Even her throat was throbbing. “What happened to us? What in the hell was that?”
Lynch fumbled for his phone. His hands were still trembling. “Some kind of nerve agent. Just stay still. It’s about to get crazy around here.”
*
“MA’AM, HOW MANY FINGERS am I holding up?”
Kendra stared at the young paramedic. “Three.”
“Can you tell me what day it is?”
She adjusted her oxygen mask. “Thursday.”
“Good. Now I’m going to ask you to count backwards from a hundred…”
Kendra glanced over at Lynch, who was getting the same treatment just a few feet away.
Three police cruisers were already in the lot, and as she looked at Lynch, a pair of city Metropolitan Medical Strike Team vans arrived on the scene.
The paramedic snapped his fingers. “Ma’am, I need your full attention. Are you still with me?”
“Sorry. One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight…”
As she counted, a second paramedic began cutting the clothes from her body.
“That was my second-favorite sweater,” she said. “You could have asked me to take it off, you know.”
“Sorry. We need to minimize contact.”
A few more cuts and he pulled her pants off.
“Really?” She tried to cover herself.
Lynch was laughing through his mask. “If I’d known it was that easy…”
He stopped laughing when he realized his own clothes were being cut away.
Within seconds, their shredded clothes were in sealed plastic bags, and they were wearing paper gowns.
The next several hours were a blur. Kendra found herself transported to Sharp Memorial Hospital, where a waiting trauma team was oddly well-prepared to deal with her symptoms. It was all in keeping with the incredible nature of everything that had happened to them today.
“Get many nerve gas patients around here?” she cracked to the pair of doctors administering diazepam and midazolam to her.
“You’re our first,” the younger doctor said absently. “After years of Homeland Security drills, it’s nice to finally put our knowledge to good use.”