It all happened so quickly. First the car horns, then the pounding on the front door, and then the crashing sound of breaking glass. Jimmy turned his head, watching the stone come through the window amidst a thousand shards of painted glass. There was a visible dent in the wood floor at the initial point of impact, and the rock bounced forward twice before coming to a wobbling stop. Were people cheering outside?
“Oh shit,” Trixie said, her dark eyes wide. Randall and Chris stared at the rock on the floor, their mouths agape.
Faster than Jimmy could react, Trixie was up out of her chair and at his side. Her hand reached up to the side of his head, and with a jerk of her wrist, she disconnected the attachment that had been plugged into his chip. He saw a flash and heard an impossibly loud screeching sound that he knew came from inside his own head. He reeled in his chair, temporarily stunned.
Jimmy clutched his head and felt himself being dragged up and out of the chair. The world came back into focus, and with it a hammer that pounded mercilessly on his brain. He ignored the pain and met Trixie’s wild eyes. She thrust the attachment into his hand and closed his fingers around it.
“Don’t lose this,” she commanded, shoving him toward the door near the end of the row of cots. “Run!”
Jimmy stumbled toward the door and took hold of the knob. There was the sharp sound of wood splintering, and Jimmy turned to see the front door across the room suddenly burst inward, slamming open against the wall. A snarling man dressed in a tan suit had kicked it in. He rushed into the room, followed by others. They were shouting.
Trixie had seen it too, and Jimmy watched as she seized the chair that he had been sitting in moments before and hurled it forward, sending it skimming and bouncing along the floor. The man in the suit tried to dodge but was too slow. The chair caught his legs, and he pitched forward, trying unsuccessfully to protect his face as he slammed into the ground. People were flooding into the room. Trixie looked back at Jimmy. Her eyes were steel.
“Move your ass, Jimmy! Now!” Trixie commanded. Then, she shouted so all could hear. “Sixty seconds! MARK!”
Jimmy opened the door and threw himself through it. He found himself in a hallway and rushed forward, obeying Trixie’s command. He heard sounds of a fight from behind and an ear-splitting sound of pain. It was the deep voice of what sounded like a large man, but he didn’t recognize it.
“Jimmy, here!”
Two hands reached out and grabbed him from an open doorway to a side room. They belonged to a young woman, who looked to be in her late teens or early twenties. She had long blond hair tied back in a ponytail, which stuck out through the hole in the back of her baseball cap. She was dressed all in black.
Fifty seconds.
“Who are you?” Jimmy said defensively. Adrenaline was rushing through him, and the sounds of fighting in the other room grew louder and more violent.
“Give me that,” she said, snatching the black object from Jimmy’s hand without giving him time to comply. She threw it inside a backpack that she was holding and fished around inside for something.
Jimmy took a step back. The girl had moved between him and the exit at the other end of the hallway, blocking his path. He nervously glanced backward at the back of the door that he had just come through from the other room.
“Chill out, Jimmy. It’s me. It’s Trixie,” the girl said, pulling out a similar-looking device to the one she had just taken from him. The only visible difference between them was that this one didn’t have an antenna on it.
Jimmy frowned. “But . . . ,” he gestured back toward the other room.
Forty seconds.
“I don’t have a body of my own. I’m a singularity, remember? That was Trisha’s body, and this one is Jenna’s, but I’m still Trixie.”
The world began to spin.
“Wait. Give me a minute.” Jimmy looked down, and then closed his eyes, rubbing them with the forefinger and thumb of his hand. The hammer in his head had increased its tempo, driving an iron wedge right down through the middle of his brain. He wobbled and reached out toward the wall to steady himself.
“We don’t have time. Just do what I say and don’t be an idiot,” Trixie said, grabbing a hold of the side of Jimmy’s head. He pulled back reflexively, but she ignored him, and with a quick slap, she coupled the new device with his chip.
A feeling of disorientation came and passed. Unlike the previous device that Trixie had plugged into his chip, this one felt almost as if his head was wrapped in a wet towel. There was a feeling of heaviness that helped mute his throbbing headache, if only slightly.
“They won’t be able to see you with this. Just get out of their way and don’t touch anyone. Do exactly what I do, and keep your mouth shut,” she said. Her small pale hand took a hold of his wrist, and she dragged him forward toward the exit with an iron grip that he recognized from before.
Thirty seconds.
They didn’t make it to the back doors before two police officers came through. They were both wearing helmets and carrying assault weapons that they held up at eye level. “SWAT” could be read in large white letters against their dark blue vests. They swept their guns across the hallway to make sure it was clear, then rushed forward quickly one after the other.
Trixie stopped and flattened herself with her back to the wall. She pushed Jimmy against the wall next to her with the back of her arm. They made eye contact, and Trixie held up a finger to her lips. Jimmy looked at her, then up at the oncoming police officers. He didn’t move from where Trixie had flattened him up against the wall, but he did raise both his hands.
The first police officer passed by as if he hadn’t even seen them. Jimmy held his breath as he watched the man go by, shocked that the officer hadn’t even paused. The officers were moving quickly, clearly trying to get to the room where the fighting was happening, but still stopping to check each doorway they encountered.
As the second officer passed, Trixie kicked hard with the bottom of her heel just as the man lifted his boot, which sent him sprawling to the ground with a muffled curse. He held his weapon to the side but came down awkwardly on his other arm.
Jimmy felt Trixie yank him past and noticed the silent smile on her lips.
“Jesus, Frank,” the lead officer said in a whispered voice as he stopped to wait.
As Trixie dragged him down the hall, Jimmy risked a backward glance and saw the fallen officer pick himself up and glance back toward the floor, trying to spot what he had tripped over. He shook his head and fell back in line behind his partner.
Twenty seconds.
Trixie pulled Jimmy through the exit and into the fresh air outside. On any other day, Jimmy would have felt the sunshine and noticed how bright and beautiful the day was, but today he only had eyes for the mob which had formed around the building. The police had succeeded in blocking the crowd where he had come out at the rear, but it looked like they hadn’t gotten control near the front door yet. A large, blocky van with “SWAT” painted in white letters on the side was parked across the street, and another pulled up behind it.
“This way,” Trixie said, leading Jimmy through the crowd at a fast clip. She moved decisively and chose a winding route that took her around the edge of the crowd rather than through the center. She was very careful not to touch anyone, and Jimmy followed her lead and did the same.
Jimmy’s eyes darted around, scanning the people he passed. Sometimes they would appear to look at him, but their eyes never focused and only passed over. The anger of the throng of people was palpable. Whatever they thought was going on inside the building, it was obvious they were enraged by it.
Ten seconds.
The two made their way across the street to the park and had to stop and wait as four construction workers passed by in a rush to get to the front of the building. Two of them wore hardhats, and one of them carried a sledgehammer. Jimmy could smell a combination of perspiration and tobacco on them as they moved past him and began pushing through the crowd to try to get to the front.
Jimmy was across the sidewalk and into the grass when the building exploded. There was a deafening sound, and he was thrown into the ground by the force of the blast. Rising to all fours, he turned and felt the pressure of an intense heat on his face. He held his arm up to block the heat and used his other hand as a brace to get back up to a standing position. Tongues of fire reached out from every window in the building, merging together into a tower of orange and yellow flame that rose into the sky along with thick black smoke. People in the street were screaming and trying to crawl away from the towering inferno. Some of the ones near the front doors lay motionless, their bodies being consumed by the ever growing conflagration. A small white dog ran past, dragging its leash on the ground.
Jimmy tasted grass and dirt, and spit as he backed away from the horror unfolding in front of him, his arm still raised against the heat. He glanced at Trixie at his side. She stood motionless, watching the flames. The front of her black shirt and the side of her face were covered in mud. Tears ran down her cheeks, unchecked. Her lips trembled, and a storm raged in her eyes.
When Trixie finally turned and looked at him, Jimmy didn’t see a face of sorrow, but one of unholy rage.