The Gender Fall (The Gender Game #5)

“Our role is that we were taken by surprise!” Jeff cried primly, and Ms. Dale shot him a withering glance, disgust on her face.

“Shut your mouth, you Patrian pig!” she snapped, before turning back to the warden. “Whoever is responsible is still in the control room. Radio the captain and inform her I will be taking these suspects downstairs.”

Without waiting for the flummoxed woman to respond, she raised her hand and waved us forward. The woman’s mouth worked up and down a few times, as though part of her wanted to object, but she didn’t stop us as we moved past her, heading past the main stairs that would get us to the second level.

As we reached the landing, I pulled off the subvocalizer. “How many checkpoints are between here and the stairs leading to exit C?”

“Three,” Cruz replied. “But wouldn’t it be easier to keep heading down these stairs, and then—?”

I shook my head. “Once the Patrians finish the video, this place is going to explode into mayhem. They’re all on the lower levels, so it’ll be better to move on this one to avoid the panic.”

He nodded, his forehead crinkled, and then pointed down the hall. “This way,” he urged. “We’ve got about eighty feet to the next checkpoint.”

We started moving, silence stretching between us. After a moment, I leaned in toward him. “Start talking. Like you have no idea what’s going on and you’re angry about this.”

Cruz hesitated, and then began speaking. I didn’t hear a word of it; my heart was beating so hard against my ribcage that it seemed to drown out his voice. I shot a glance over my shoulder, just to make sure we were all still together, and then turned my focus on the approaching checkpoint.

A guard was waiting at the narrow gap in the sandbags, her rifle held loosely in her hands. Others rose to their feet, watching us approach, but the one at the sandbags was clearly in charge. As we approached, she held up her hand, and we drew to a stop. “Mr. Cruz, what are you doing here right now?” She flashed a curious gaze to Ms. Dale.

“No need to talk to him,” Ms. Dale announced, her mouth set in a grim line. “We found them unconscious just outside the control room. Has the captain breeched the door yet?”

The warden frowned, her eyes gazing at us with suspicion. “No, ma’am. The mechanism has been damaged.”

“I see. Well, allow us to pass, so I can escort these potential traitors downstairs as I was ordered.”

I had to give it to Ms. Dale: she exuded authority. By the time she was finished, the other woman had no reservations, and she stepped aside to allow us past her.

“Take them down the next staircase,” the woman said with a nod as we moved by her. “The contingency plan is being authorized on this level.”

“Now, really, madam! I must protest!” said Cruz, imbuing his tone with indignation. Ms. Dale’s eyes were hard as ice as she ignored him, her mask secure.

We hurried away from the checkpoint, and I was hyperaware of the eyes watching us all, not just the main warden’s, but everyone who worked there. Sweat was collecting on my chest right now, making my shirt cling to my skin. I was grateful for the coat I was wearing, in spite of its constricting nature, as it hid the stains no doubt growing on my shirt.

As soon as we were out of earshot, I grabbed Cruz, hauling him over to the doors leading to one of the VIP boxes. “What’s going on? What contingency plan?”

“I have no idea,” he replied, his voice reflecting his confusion. “Clearly something is going on, some sort of response to your video. But beyond that, I don’t know.”

Frowning, I looked at Ms. Dale, who shrugged her shoulders. “We have to keep going,” she said softly. “We can’t stop to question it now.”

I took a deep breath, sticking my head out slightly to check the halls. “How far to the next checkpoint?”

Cruz looked down the hall over my shoulder. “Maybe a hundred, a hundred and twenty feet.”

“All right, then. Abigail, you and Kurtis take point, Vivian and Jeff, you’re in the rear. Get ready with some more security babble, and Cruz—get ready to be more and more irate about this whole situation.”

We were halfway to the next checkpoint when we passed by another set of doors leading to a VIP booth, and the sound coming through it stopped me cold. I dropped from formation and dashed over to the door, my heart skipping a beat as I heard the screams of rising panic tearing through the walls—punctuated by the definitive sound of automatic gunfire.





38





Viggo





“What’s happening?” Cad asked me. “What are we—?”

“We gotta get as many people as we can out alive!” I said, my eyes meeting his.

I snatched my gun from its holster, looking over my shoulder at Ms. Dale and Amber as the sounds of gunfire and shrill screaming ripped through the corridor. Ms. Dale’s face was grim, her mouth an angry slash across her face.

“Do what you can here,” she barked. “Vivian, on me. Mr. Cruz, you’re still coming with us!” Then she turned back down the corridor the way we’d been going, breaking into a run.

Amber nodded, taking off down the hall after Ms. Dale, her weapon at the ready. Cruz stared from them, to me, to them again, as if questioning.

“I don’t have a weapon!” he began, but I overrode him, shouting, “Just go!”

He went, and I paused at the door handle for just a moment. “Are you two ready?”

“I’ve got your back,” said Jeff, dropping to a knee behind a metal trashcan, his gun coming out of the holster.