Unlocked (No Way Out Series Book 3) Page 5

  “I know what you’re about to do,” a man hisses into my ear. “No one dropped a key accidentally. No one is that stupid here. They screwing with your mind, little girl.” I kick my feet and swing my arms, trying to get Sin’s attention, but the darkness is so thick, he wouldn’t be able to see anything unless he were standing less than a foot in front of me. I bite down on the man’s finger, tasting the salt mixed with dirt and sweat. The ache in my stomach craves for more of the taste, a taste I didn’t consider a moment ago. I bite harder until I break the skin, yearning for a crunch I probably won’t be lucky enough to get.

  The man howls in pain, tugging his hand from the grip of my jaw, but I’m stronger. Just not stronger than Sin, who pulls me away. “Shit. No, no. Spit it out, Reese. Spit it out. Spit it out. Spit it out.” Sin pulls me over to him, lurching me over his arm as he whales on my back with his other hand, forcing out the pieces of flesh that were soaking up the pool of drool in my now parched mouth. “Reese. No.” Sin straightens me back out, kneeling down as he pulls me closer. “The only hope we had left was that this virus was spread through bodily fluid and wasn’t airborne.”

  “Like it matters,” I mutter against the groan in my stomach. “We’re going to die in here. The key is a trap—that man just told me.”

  “We can either sit here and rot, or we can try to make a run for it. How do you want to go out, Reese? Trying or giving up? Because I’ve come to know who you are, and you are a fighter. You’re a badass fighter, and I know you aren’t going to give up on me now.”

  “Even if I try—even if we run for it, I probably just infected myself, so what’s the purpose?” I laugh.

  “We don’t know for sure. It could be spread in a completely unthinkable way. This isn’t an ordinary epidemic. It was a terrorist attack—planned out, thought out, and executed not so perfectly, seeing as thirty percent of the population survived. Even if half the survivors are infected—they’re still alive. It could be spread by bodily fluids, it could be airborne, it could be anything.”

  “Two-thirds of those options aren’t looking good for me,” I tell him. “I’m not thinking straight. I can’t think straight. My head is foggy and my thoughts are all over the place.”

  Sin leans down and gently, softly, touches his lips to mine, devouring my mouth with slow movements, a way in which he had yet to kiss me before now. Everything with him has been brash, passionate, and electrifying. This is something different—this is unspoken words filled with devotion and surrendering—this is a promise that we’re in this together because if I’m damned, then so is he. His tongue dances around my mouth, forcing an ache down to the center of my core, despite the hunger, and despite the bleakness of our situation. My heart is beating so hard it feels explosive, and yet all I want to do is fall to the ground with him, giving in to every need and want I feel right now. I realize that in the last three or five years, whichever it was, my only happy moments, the moments when I felt like I mattered, were all with this one man, who sets me on fire with just a touch.

  As our lips part, the whites of his eyes come into focus, only inches from mine. “We’re together now. Whatever happens, we’re in this together. If you go down, I’m going with you.”

  For only a short second, I feel safe being in his arms, hearing his promising words, but the truth lingers outside of our embrace. The heavy heels click as they pass by, giving us our thirty-second countdown. I feel confident that the key will, in fact, work since the man was probably only telling me a possibility I should consider. And Sin’s right, if we don’t try, what’s the purpose for everything we’ve done and endured up until this point?

  Sin’s hand grips tightly around my arm as he reaches between the bars, feeling around before I hear the clink of the key make contact with the opening. Another clink echoes around us. “Stupid girl,” the man from the other side of the grates seethes.

  “I’m still hungry,” I respond in a low growl.

  Sin’s hand tightens and jerks me toward him a bit. “Shh.” Another clink follows. “It worked.” The door creaks open louder than I would have hoped and I can only pray the guard is far enough away that he didn’t hear the noise. Sin urges me out first, following closely behind. He pulls me into the opposite direction from where the man with the loud heels was walking. The tunnel of darkness continues to unfold before us as we pass by loud screams, people pounding their fists against the rusty bars, even animalistic growls through human voices. These people are in rough shape and I can only consider what will happen if I get like this, too. I’m not even sure what this toxin has affected in these people, but I can assume it’s something in their heads. They’re out of their minds.

  We’re running so fast, the misty dew feels cool on my face, making me sweat even though I’m cold. There is nothing but darkness surrounding us and we could run into a wall at any second, but that doesn’t stop Sin from running as fast as he can, pulling me along with him.

  After a minute of running, I press my arm out in front of me, truly scared of hitting something, and my instincts served us right as we hit a wall. Sin grunts as he catches himself.

  “Won’t you help us too?” A woman says through a soft cry. “Please. My child and I don’t belong here. We’re not sick. They just think we are.”

  I can’t see where the voice is coming from, which is probably a good thing because I don’t know who or what to trust. Even if I considered trying to help them, Sin is pulling me in the opposite direction, sweeping his hand along the wall until we reach the corner.

  “There’s no door down here.” The woman speaks up again, her voice clear and unscathed. “It’s down at the other end. The man—the patrol—he’s blind, his eyes were gouged out during the onset of this attack. If you stand close enough to the wall when he’s coming toward you, you can make it past him.”

  Sin stops pulling me. His grip relaxes and I know something is changing in his mind. “We should help them,” I say.

  Sin tugs me toward the woman’s voice, feeling around the grate the same way he felt around ours. I hear the key make contact again, the two clinks, and then the door slides open. “Bless you,” she says. As she comes closer, I can only see a shadow of a woman a little taller than I am and a small child holding her hand tightly. The darkness doesn’t allow me to see whether the child is a boy or a girl, though. “Stay against the right side of the wall and walk slowly.”

  She takes the lead with her child, and we follow closely behind.

  Minutes pass before we hear the growing sound of clicking heels. My pulse speeds up, now beating loudly in my ear, giving me enough reason to say a quick prayer that only I can hear my own heartbeat. The four of us stop, holding ourselves up against the wall. I try not to breathe or swallow as the man comes closer. I squint my eyes closed even though it doesn’t matter in the darkness—it’s purely instinctual, like fooling my brain into thinking I’m hiding from the monsters under my bed. Sin’s hand turns calmly, wet, as it grips mine, holding my entire arm up against his chest. His heart is beating as fast as mine but I can’t hear it, which offers me relief.

  The man passes by, but only by a few steps before he stops. The sound of clicking heels pauses like a record scratch and the thudding in my chest increases at a rate that may make my heart either explode or just give up the grand old fight. Is this poor child as scared as we are? Does he or she know what kind of danger we’re in? No child should have to live like this. Although, one might say he or she is lucky to be alive at all right now.

  I don’t know how many seconds have passed between the time the heels stopped clicking and this moment where drool is pooling inside of my cheeks and my chest is starting to ache for the breaths I have skipped, but I’m running out of time—my lungs can’t hold out much longer.

  One heel clicks.

  The second heel clicks.

  Again.

  Again.

  Again.

  A hand grips at my throat, squeezing out the little oxygen I had left. I
couldn’t make a noise even if I wanted to. Does Sin know? Do the woman and child know? They should all run. They should get away and spare themselves whatever torture I’m likely about to experience. Maybe he doesn’t know there is more than one of us. I try to pull my hand out of Sin’s, but his grip is as tight as it was thirty seconds ago. He knows. “You thought you were going to get past me?” the man says through laughter.

  Unsure of what is happening, I’m thrown to the ground and pinned with more weight than I can fight against. Everything hurts and I can’t breathe in or out. I can only lie here, waiting to endure what happens next.

  7

  Chapter Seven

  SIN

  This fight is getting old. I’m becoming more tired and weaker every moment longer I survive. I have this man in a choke hold as he’s attempting to strangle the life out of the one person I continue to fight for.

  He’s not giving up or giving in and I don’t know what it’s going to take to make him release his grip. He’s larger than I thought, stronger than I expected.

  The struggle within Reese is motivating me to try harder, but it’s like I’m pounding my fist into a brick wall. I feel weak, so weak that I’m not sure my hands are moving. Something isn’t right. There’s a thickness in the air and it’s strangling me.

  “We have to get out of here,” the woman behind me says. “They’re gassing us. It’s not strong enough to kill, just enough to knock us out. We have less than a minute.” Her words sound more like a slur than a cognitive statement. The guard is protected by a gas mask and the reality of what is about to happen sets in. I’m going to lose this battle and I’m going to lose her.

  But I can’t. I cannot give up. I don’t hear Reese struggling anymore, and I’m afraid the gas and lack of oxygen has already taken her under. I lift my foot and press it into the asshole’s back, using what feels like hardly any weight. I lean down and swallow hard but I chomp my teeth around the lobe of his ear. My strength and instinctual reactions help my jaw clench harder than any of my other muscles are working right now. I hear, and feel—the crunch—it hits a nerve in the back of my throat and nausea sets in. Trying to push this discomfort away, I continue grinding my jaw until the man lets out an incredible growl, followed by a gravelly, hoarse scream. His focus is finally diverted from Reese as he turns toward me. I lock him in a choke hold and snap his neck to the side. “Run! Take your kid and run!” I yell to the woman.

  I didn’t kill the shithead, but he’s out. I tear his mask off and wrap it around Reese’s head. My arms are so weak as I peel her off the ground that I’m afraid I won’t be able to carry her like this for too long, so I push her over my shoulder until her limp body is resting flat against my back. My knees are starting to give out and my lungs feel stale, like they can’t take in any more oxygen—what’s left of it. The hallway, while dark, is blurred and swaying with each step. “Come onnnnnnn.” The woman’s hazy voice breezes over my head, but I can’t see her. Still, I continue forward, fighting a heaviness in my eyelids. I can’t. I can’t.

  A hand pinches around my arm, pulling at the material of my shirt. “Jusssssssst a little—“ I don’t know what she’s saying. My head is aching, heavy, it hurts. Hands are on my back now, pushing me forward, but my knees, my knees…I can’t.

  Lead weights replace my feet; the heaviness is holding me hostage. Am I even moving?

  A door, light, a door. Is that a door? A door.

  I fall heavily to the ground. White linoleum meets the side of my face, but the coldness against my skin helps my eyes remain open. While somewhat aware, I’m also incredibly unaware at the same time. I twist my head to the side, as far as I can manage to move, finding a pair of feet sprawled out in front of me—shoes I don’t recognize, but whoever they belong to is lying on the ground like me.

  Reese. Where is she? “Ree—“ I try to speak, but the words don’t come out.

  A movement passes by the side of me, but I can’t move my head—it’s too heavy. The movement continues around me, seeming more like a blur, until a body leans down against mine, and hands claw at my back. “Sin. Sin. Sin,” Reese whispers in my ear.

  “Put your mask back on,” I try to speak again, and while my words come out with an airy sound, they do come out and I hope she heard me. Her hands clench around the fabric of my shirt as she pulls me toward her. During a pause in the movement, the gas mask goes around my face. I want to yell at her and tell her to cut the shit, but my throat feels blocked. Jesus, I want her to have it, but she probably wouldn’t listen even if I could fight with her.

  The untainted air I’m able to take in helps clear my mind, but only slightly. The weakness is still prominent, but I’m cognizant. I can turn my head a little more, allowing me to watch as Reese closes the door behind us. The woman and child are unconscious in front of me so I grab Reese’s ankle as she rushes over to help them. “Sin, let go, I have to help them.”

  “Put this on the child,” I peel the mask off and slide it across the floor toward Reese’s feet. “Do it.”

  She releases a quiet groan, but she doesn’t argue. We have to get the hell out of here before someone finds us and I’m not leaving these two in the hall. With more fresh air replacing the tainted air in my lungs, some of my strength returns, enough that I can lift my body onto all fours. The hallway is still moving around me, like a carousel. Up and down. Side to side. I’m going to be fucking sick if it doesn’t stop.

  Reese has managed to rouse the woman and her daughter—a little girl. She couldn’t be more than eight. My God. They both look the way I feel. “We have to move,” Reese says; looking around, worry pooling in her eyes. “I hear them.”

  She helps me up first, holding me in her small arms. How is she even holding me up like this? I outweigh her by at least a hundred pounds. “Reese,” I mutter.

  “This way,” she says, exasperated. The woman and daughter are struggling behind us, but they keep up.

  “How do you know where to go?” I ask her, worried we’re going the wrong way…not that I think there’s a right way.

  She points into the distance toward a corner. “The exit sign,” she says, squeezing me with her grip. “You can trust me, even if it’s only a little.”

  “You just bit a sick man,” I remind her, ignoring the fact that I had to do the same; although, I’m guessing the patrol isn’t sick like the rest of them. Just in other ways, clearly.

  The sound of boots grows louder. I’m praying they aren’t coming from the exit but I don’t know where else they could be coming from since there doesn’t appear to be any other direction besides the prison we were being held in.

  Our pace picks up as we near the exit, but as we approach it, when it is almost within reach, the door flies open. Two patrols walk out, the same men who I tried to blend in with. The same men who brought Reese and I down here. Where are the rest of them?

  Reese is quick to pull me in the opposite direction, past the woman and her daughter. “Run!” she tells them. Run to where? There’s nowhere to go. Nowhere. No way out. There is never a goddamn way out.

  As we’re running—actually, Reese is running and I’m dragging along my limp body—the sound of thudding steps stops and I look over my shoulder to find out why. They’re dragging the mother and daughter off. Shit. I can’t just watch them do this. They saved us, or helped us. Both…at least I think so. I run back toward them, but the patrols are moving faster than I am. They’re on the radio, signaling to whoever that Reese and I are loose. “Let’s go,” I tell Reese.

  “What? No? They’ll be right there waiting for us!” she says.

  “What other choice do we have?” The second the words come out of my mouth, she must realize it’s true as she turns back, running with me toward the exit. We make it to the door this time and get through but I hear an echo of a door opening and closing somewhere in the stairwell we’re probably trapped in. The sound of boots thudding commences, and our last hope is that this stairwell has an emergency exit on
one of these floors. Now I’m the one pulling Reese. As the effects of the gas recede, my adrenaline kicks into full gear.

  “A door,” she whispers, breathlessly, as we turn a corner. God only knows what lies behind this door, but from the sounds above us, it can’t be any worse than what we’re about to face if we stay here. I kick the door open and—the thing leads outside—outside, as in sky, gravel and fresh goddamn air! We made it out! The second the door opens, though, the alarm goes off—loud and blaring—announcing an “escapee” alert.

  Both of us run forward, looking back over our shoulders, waiting for the exit door to fly open again. I’m grateful it hasn’t yet because every second we go without that door opening is a little more space we’re able to put between them and us. We pass by an alley off to the right and it looks more promising than staying on this main road so I pull Reese sharply down the street. I might drop dead before we make it down this street, but we’ve got to keep going.

  “I hear them,” Reese says. “They’re going to find us.”

  This prompts me to look for another way, scanning the length of both buildings we’re running between.

  “Over there.” Reese takes the lead and pulls us toward a ladder hanging from a metal balcony. The ladder is barely in reach, but I should be able to grab it. I was hoping for a door on ground level, but I’m sure it’s safe to assume any door within reach would be locked down. It looks like heading up is the only option, despite the fact that we are putting ourselves directly in a target view. Considering our limited options, I jump up a few times before I’m able to reach the ladder and pull it down low enough for Reese to grab onto.

  She begins ascending first and I follow closely behind, watching behind us as we make our way to the first landing. The second our feet hit the metal plank, a half dozen patrols in biohazard suits turn the corner, running in unison as if this were a physical training circuit.