Assembly Holding Facility
Washington, DC
Sherrie stepped back, her chest heaving from the effort, her entire body dripping in sweat. She filled the IV bag with water and downed most of it before refilling it. She knelt beside Fang and gave her a sip. “How are you doing?”
Fang shook her head. “I-I don’t think I have much time left.” She motioned with her eyes toward the torn apart bathroom. “How-how are you doing?”
“Good. I’ve reached the corner. It’s tough stuff, but I removed part of the broken pipe, so now I’ve got a tool to work with. I should be through to the next room soon.”
“If there is a next room.”
Sherrie smiled. “Positivity, please!” She took another swig of water. “Well, back at it.” She returned to the bathroom and wedged herself into the corner between the toilet and the wall. She picked up the pipe and balled up blouse she was using as a glove, and attacked the wall once again, jabbing and prying at it, small chunks of the multi-layered drywall slowly breaking away. She was around the corner now, reaching her earlier failed attempts at going directly at it. It just didn’t work. Prying it away from the wall seemed far more efficient, though it had taken what felt like hours to reach her goal, but in reality had been less than one.
She shoved the pipe in behind the small opening she had managed to make and yanked it back, a large chunk snapping away. She grinned. “I can see the other wall!”
Fang didn’t reply, though she heard a grunt. Sherrie hammered at the opposing wall several times, then stopped to listen. Nothing. She repeated the process twice more, and still heard nothing. “I don’t think there’s anybody next door.”
She pried away a hole big enough for her to fit through on her side, then went to work on the opposing wall, jabbing at it with renewed vigor, slowly chipping away at what didn’t appear to be a bathroom wall, no pipes visible beyond those for their toilet. Her pipe suddenly punched through the wall, and she had to squeeze her hand to prevent it from flying through. “I’m through!”
She hammered away at it some more, her progress painfully slow. She stopped to reevaluate her method.
This is going to take hours, and Fang doesn’t have that.
She stared at the small hole, barely the size of her fist. Her upper body was exhausted, her arms afire, her shoulders aching. She was in shape. Incredible shape—all agents were, yet this was a different type of effort, one she wasn’t used to.
But your legs are good.
And they were stronger. She smiled. Leaning forward again, she used the end of the pipe to score the wall, quickly forming an X surrounding the hole, perhaps half an inch deep. She didn’t know if it would be enough to weaken the area, but she had to try. She put the pipe down and lay on her back, wiggling her way into position. She lifted both feet up and placed them against the wall, on either side of the hole, then drew her knees back.
Here goes nothing.
She shoved her feet forward, slamming them against the wall.
And got nothing.
Try, try again.
She repeated the process, several times, each attempt appearing as futile as the first, when on her fifth kick, she heard something, something different. She kicked again, and again, she heard it.
Tearing?
She didn’t care what the hell it was—it was different. A surge of adrenaline washed through her from the excitement, and she kicked again against the wall, over and over, when suddenly her right foot slammed into the wall then slid to the side, a shaft of light appearing. She squealed with glee and flipped around, pushing aside the broken away corner, then poking her head through.
I knew it!
It was another room, though this one had several tables in it as well as chairs. “Hello?”
No response, something she was relieved at. The last thing she wanted was to deal with some other prisoner who might not be as friendly as the Leroux and Kane parental units. And an empty room offered the possibility of an unlocked door.
She worked at the broken away flap of wall, and managed to push it completely aside, leaving enough room for her to crawl through. She scurried back to Fang. “I’m through.”
“So I heard.”
“I’m going through, okay? I’m going to try and either figure a way out of here, or get help. All you have to do is hang on, understood?”
Fang nodded. “Just go.”
Sherrie gave the dying woman’s hand a squeeze then grabbed the pipe, crawling headfirst through the hole and into the other room. She stood, looking about, and gasped. It was some sort of torture chamber, all manner of cutting and tearing and pinching tool lining the walls and stacking the tables.
She spotted the door and stepped toward it then nearly peed when she rounded a high-back chair in her path.
Someone was in it, somebody dead, several rounds in his chest.
Must have been the shots I heard.
“Holy shit!” she hissed, recognizing the Vice President.
What the hell is he doing here?
She didn’t have time to figure it out. He was dead, and Fang soon would be as well. She turned her attention to the door and frowned. It was like theirs, with no way to open it, though this one had a security panel beside it, something she could at least work with.
Suddenly there was a click and the door pushed open.
Oh shit!