Cooper charged down the hill towards the water plant, jumping over and crashing through the undergrowth. Over crevices and over streams. He could feel his body drenched with sweat but he pushed on harder and faster. Acutely aware of the time as he ran on. Knowing that Rosedale and Levi were going to detonate the first explosive in less than ten minutes.
He was making his way around to the far side so he could head up the river undetected. And in front of him he could see the river, flowing deep and fast, and he quickly glanced at his watch then dived in, swimming up against the current.
He’d wanted to swim beneath the water, making sure if Bemba’s men were about he wouldn’t be spotted, but the murky waters, swirling with mud churned up from the storms, made it impossible for him to see. Leaving him no other choice than to be exposed.
In front of him the buildings of the treatment plant came into view. He could feel the pull on his muscles as he fought against the river. But he knew he had to hold some reserve. He couldn’t be exhausted. There was no way he was losing Maddie.
Checking his watch again, he saw the time.
Five minutes.
That was all he had. He picked up the pace and swam harder and felt the pressure, which drove his body forwards. Forcing it to the limit. Refusing anything less, knowing there was no way of delaying Rosedale or Levi.
As he neared the water plant, he chose to swim as low in the water as he could. From where he was he could see the main reception, but he figured he needed to head further up. Towards the buildings Charles hadn’t shown them. His gut said that was where he needed to be.
Parallel to the back outhouses now, Cooper saw the Commer truck. Parked around one hundred yards away. Then real slowly, he pulled himself out of the river. The weight of it heavy on his clothes.
He lay on his stomach motionless.
Edged forward.
Gradually.
Carefully.
Looked at his watch.
One minute.
Breathed deeply.
Closed his eyes for a moment.
Readying himself.
Thirty seconds.
Calm.
Focused.
Twenty…
Ten…
Five…
And the explosion on the hillside tore through the air. Flames and black smoke filled the skies and flashes of gunfire shot out from the hillside and white light sparked, echoing around.
Cooper saw the door of the building flung open and six of Bemba’s men ran out, armed with guns, and jumped into the truck. He rolled to the side behind a mound of sand, watching as the Commer and another car disappeared out of sight.
He waited a minute, checking to see if he had a clear run to the open door, then he ran. Bolting forward. Slipping himself into the darkness of the building.
The stairs led Cooper down into a maze of hallways which weaved along, forking into others. Large steel doors, chained and bolted, lined the walls, and the air was stifling. No windows and barely any light coming from the low voltage bulbs.
Cooper’s breathing was hard and strained as he came to the end of the hall, where a large steel door blocked him from going any further. There was no way he was getting through quietly. After a quick glance round he aimed at the lock and fired. Deafening cracks echoed and reverberated round. But it was no good. The door stayed locked.
‘Shit… Shit!’
Panic beginning to creep over him, he looked around and then his eyes caught an air vent, up in the ceiling. It was small. Maybe too small. But anything was worth a try.
Aiming up, he fired. Four corners. Four bolts. Four shots on target which sent the grate crashing down to the floor. He threw his gun up and inside. Took several steps back before he ran, leaping up and forcing his legs to pedal in the air and propelling himself forward towards the grate. His fingers brushed the edges of the ceiling, finding the ledge he needed.
But his hands began to slip.
‘Come on… Come on.’ He heard his voice echo along the dark maze of corridors as he cried out loud. He had to hang on. He tasted blood and he realized he was biting his tongue through his gritted teeth, as he tried to dig deeper and deeper finding the strength to pull himself up…
And slowly his body began to move, up towards the ceiling with his arms shaking and trembling as they took the strain.
It was a tight squeeze and he felt the jagged metal of the bullet-torn vent snag into his skin, tearing away his flesh whilst he pulled his entire body through.
The chamber he found himself in was hot and cramped, and he could only move inch by inch as he lay on his stomach. His whole body compressed. Didn’t even have headroom to look up. But just a foot in front of him was another vent. This one was plastic, and quickly he used the butt of his gun to smash down on it, making it crack. Making it easy for him to break it apart. Just enough for him to get through.
The sweat dripped into his eyes as he hung upside down from the ceiling and, checking there was nobody coming, he pushed himself through the hole. A moment later, he was free-falling hard to the floor below. Hitting something solid as his body slammed down to the ground.
He was hurting now. Real bad. But he had to keep going… had to.
He felt along the floor for his gun before he slowly pulled himself up. And it took him a second for his eyes to adjust to the dim light… Then they did.
He was in some kind of lab and there were rats in cages, dead ones and live ones, rats that had been sewn together, and rats with electrodes covering their whole bodies as if in a sci-fi film.
Almost silently, he moved through the room, keeping still at every sound. He was on edge, and he didn’t want to make any mistakes.
Over in the far corner, he could see five, maybe six rats, absolutely covered in fleas. Being eaten alive by a swarm of black, hungry creatures. The rats were frenzied, banging their bloodied bodies against the glass to escape the onslaught. Gnawing off their own legs in some kind of instinctual hope they’d get away.
Recoiling, he turned away, edging further down into the darkness of the lab, passing more cages full of fleas and rats.
A second later, he froze.
His stomach leapt. What he was looking at made him think he’d just stepped into hell.
All around were glass cages, and within them were people. Naked and strapped to the walls. Arms and legs spread out, looking like their whole faces and bodies were moving, as a dark, seething mass of fleas covered them, writhing and twisting.
Suddenly he understood. These were the hosts. These people. Not the rats he’d just seen. These were the people Emmanuel had spoken about. Taken and kidnapped as an instrument for Bemba’s sick reign. Millions of fleas. Eating. Feeding. Surviving off the blood of the men and the women and the children.
Quickly he ran along the sealed tight cages, banging on each of them to see if anyone reacted, if anyone was still alive as the fleas continued to squirm and move and writhe. But there was nothing. Nothing at all. No signs. Only the movement from the insects. The adults, the children, all dead.
On the last cage, he banged hard. Angry, wanting revenge for these people.
And then he thought he saw something… There. A movement. Tiny at first but he could see the person was trying to raise their head. He looked again. Then with sinking, desperate horror, he saw it was Maddie.
She looked up at him, barely able to open her swollen, bitten eyes, and he cried out.
The movement of her head let him know she could hear him.
Then tapping the glass with the barrel of his gun, he began to examine it. It was toughened and he knew his bullet would shatter it, but he also knew there was a chance of the pieces ricocheting and flying into Maddie.
Quickly, he pressed the muzzle of his gun firmly against the corner of the main pane.
Turned his head.
Pulled the trigger.
And the glass became instantly opaque, as millions of tiny cracks shattered through the laminate. Whereupon Cooper raised the sole of his boot and kicked it through, stepping into the cage. A pain rushed through his legs as tiny fragments of glass embedded into his flesh.
Breathing out he rushed towards Maddie through the black cloud of fleas swarming.
‘Maddie!’ he called, regretting it immediately as he began to cough and choke and splutter and gag on the black cloud of insects as they filled up his nose and throat, making it difficult to breathe.
But without the slightest hesitation, he pulled at the straps Maddie was tied up with. Her body swollen and red. Dotted with thousands of pits of blood, marked raised bumps and blisters covering her. She was barely conscious.
With blood dripping down his leg, Cooper threw Maddie over his shoulder.
Then he began to run.
He ran back into the lab, towards a fire door he’d seen.
Knocking it open with his shoulder, he staggered to the side, trying to hold onto the walls whilst the blood from his leg continued to pour.
He could hear shots in the background, though he couldn’t decipher if they were still coming from the hillside, or if they were getting nearer. But he had to get out. And fast.
The door he went through took him out into a hallway which took him back round into a stairwell. About to head up them, a shadow began to creep across the ceiling… Someone was coming.
Backing away into the shadows, Cooper stayed motionless then squatted down to set Maddie onto the floor, brushing away the last of the fleas that still clung to her. A thunder of boots followed as several of Bemba’s men charged into the building and Cooper could see there were too many to take on by himself.
He crept further backwards, counting the men as they came. Seven… Eight… Nine. Running down with purpose. And the only thing he could do was hide… And wait.
Pulling Maddie into the darkness with him, Cooper’s back banged into something hard. Turning round he expected to see a wall, but there, piled high to the ceiling were boxes marked: DuPont Co. Explosive Nitrostarch.
In the darkness Cooper waited for the sound of running feet to disappear, as the last of Bemba’s men cleared the stairwell, the echoes of their urgent shouts disappearing down the hall.
Knowing this was his chance, he scooped up Maddie over his left shoulder, the pain from his legs surging through his body as he stooped down to grasp a case of explosives. Then with a deep driving force of breath, he ran up the stairs and out through the open doorway.
He stopped. Took a quick glance round. Placed the explosives by the door. Then charged across the grounds, sweating and desperate and hurrying and running to get to the relative safety of the trees, as quickly – and gently – as he could.
Cooper set an unconscious Maddie on the ground, covering her nakedness quickly with his jacket.
He turned. Faced the building and settled himself, forced his breathing to slow and steadied his grip on his gun, aimed at the explosives and waited for Bemba’s men to reappear. And when they did, it’d be the final goodbye.
As the men came into sight, with the lightest of pressure and the most precise of aims, he pulled the trigger. Hitting and igniting the Nitrostarch, sending the whole building up into a spectacular fireball.
From the far side, Cooper saw Rosedale and Levi charging over to help.
He left Maddie on the ground. Something in the corner by the trees had caught his eye. Not for the first time that day, he began to run.
At the end of the low fence, he rounded the corner and stopped. And there, crawling on the ground, struggling, squirming and covered in the mud, was the pathetic figure of Papa Bemba.
Cooper walked up to him slowly. His desert boots stopping near Bemba’s head, and he stood saying nothing as he saw Bemba sense that someone was there.
Bemba’s hands reached out and touched his boots. Making their way up his shins, as he tried to work out who it was.
‘Est-ce que vous Lumumba? Aidez moi. Aidez moi.’
Cooper crouched down, sticking his gun against Bemba’s temple. ‘No, it’s not Lumumba. He’s dead. But why ask my name? Don’t you know? After all I thought you saw better than the ones that can see. But then, you don’t need to worry about that no more, and the folk round here won’t need to worry about you. And you know why? Because they’re going to get peace, life without fear. But to get that for them, Bemba, I need one thing. You… That’s right, you’re going to be my exchange.’
‘No, please…non, se il vous plaît ne pas.’
‘Problem is if I let you go, we both know that you’ll get away scot-free. You’ll act with impunity as you always have.’
‘Please, listen….’
‘Save your words, Bemba… Simon. Hell, it doesn’t matter now because you should’ve known… Never take on a crazy guy who’s got nothing left to lose. This one’s for Emmanuel.’
And without hesitation, Thomas J. Cooper pulled the trigger.