Chapter 8 - The Cry in the Dark
The two security contractors moved forward with professional, lethal efficiency, their batons raised.
Mara Bennett didn't wait to be slaughtered.
As the conveyor ramp tilted another three degrees toward the furnace, Mara grabbed the iron crowbar with both hands and jammed the flat, beveled end directly into the exposed gear teeth of the hydraulic conveyor track beneath her boots.
*CRACK-CRUNCH!*
The hardened steel of the crowbar bit into the rotating cast-iron cogs. The entire conveyor mechanism seized with an ear-shattering screech of tearing metal. Sparks exploded from the motor housing, and thick, acrid smoke poured from the drive belt as the motor stalled out, locking the tilted platform in place just four feet from the roaring mouth of the incinerator.
The sudden jolt threw the first contractor off-balance. His foot slipped on the slick steel grating, and he stumbled forward.
Mara lunged. She didn't have a gun, but she had rage, momentum, and the brutal instincts of someone who had fought for her family her entire life. She drove her elbow directly into the man’s throat, feeling the cartilage compress under the blow. The guard choked, dropping his baton, and Mara grabbed him by the tactical vest, using his own forward momentum to pivot his body and heave him sideways over the safety railing.
The guard plummeted twenty feet down into the concrete utility sump below, landing with a sickening thud that silenced him instantly.
"Shoot her!" Mercer screamed, raising his Glock with his uninjured left hand.
*BANG!*
The bullet ricocheted off the iron pillar inches from Mara’s ear, sending hot copper fragments slicing across her cheek.
Mara ducked low, dragging Julianne behind the protective bulk of the secondary steam manifold.
The second contractor rushed around the side of the boiler, drawing a Taser, but Julianne—summoning some final, reserve reservoir of maternal adrenaline—swung a loose three-inch steam pipe segment lying on the platform, striking the guard across the knee. The guard buckled with a scream, and Mara followed up with a vicious kick to his temple, knocking him unconscious onto the grating.
"Mercer!" Mara yelled through the steam. "It’s over! Drop the gun!"
"Not while I can still pull the trigger, bitch!" Mercer shouted back, stalking through the maze of vibrating pipes, his boots clanging against the iron walkway.
Mara looked at the high-pressure steam manifold beside her. Mounted to the side was an emergency pressure-release valve painted bright red, secured with a brass chain.
She caught Julianne's eye. Julianne understood instantly. The auditor pulled herself flat against the concrete floor, covering her head with her hands.
Mara gripped the release chain with both hands, planted her feet against the boiler casing, and pulled with everything she had.
The chain snapped. The valve wheel spun wildly.
A pressurized jet of three-hundred-degree superheated steam erupted from the safety flange with the roar of a jet engine. The opaque, scalding cloud billowed outward, filling the corridor between the boilers within half a second.
Mercer walked directly into the expanding thermal wave.
His scream was unlike anything human. The scalding steam tore through his clothes, blistering the skin on his face and hands instantly, blinding his eyes. He stumbled backward, firing his weapon wildly into the white fog, the bullets striking steel pipes, concrete walls, and ceiling joists in a chaotic, deafening rhythm.
*Click. Click. Click.*
The Glock’s slide locked back, empty.
Mara stepped through the thinning edge of the steam cloud, holding the heavy iron pipe segment Julianne had used moments earlier. She didn't hesitate. She swung with precise, calculated retribution, striking Mercer across his uninjured forearm, sending the empty gun spinning down into the drainage grate.
Mercer collapsed to his knees, his face blistered red, clutching his ruined eyes, weeping and groaning in agony.
"Where is Evelyn?" Mara demanded, standing over him like an avenging fury, her chest heaving, blood dripping from her sliced cheek onto Mercer’s shoulder.
"The... the roof..." Mercer sobbed, his arrogance completely shattered. "Helipad... the corporate chopper is landing at twelve-fifteen... she’s flying to Toronto... she has a private jet waiting..."
Mara kicked the head of security flat onto his back, grabbed Julianne by the arm, and hoisted her to her feet.
"Can you make it to the laundry room?" Mara asked Julianne.
"I have to," Julianne gasped, tears cutting clean lines through the grime on her face. "My daughter is waiting for me."
Together, leaning against each other, the two battered women limped through the heavy steel door of Sub-Level 3, leaving the groaning guards and the hissing boilers behind them.
When they entered the laundry depot, the silence was absolute.
Mara walked to the dumbwaiter, her heart in her throat, and gently lifted the brass gate. "Lily?"
The pile of white towels stirred.
Lily poked her head out, her eyes searching the gloom. And then, she saw her mother.
"Mommy!"
"Lily! Oh, my baby! My sweet girl!"
Julianne fell to her knees on the laundry floor, her arms opening wide as Lily launched herself from the dumbwaiter cart. The little girl wrapped her arms around her mother’s bruised neck, sobbing hysterically, burying her face into Julianne's torn sweater.
"I was brave, Mommy!" Lily cried, her tiny hands clutching Julianne's hair. "The nice lady Mara told me to be brave, and I was!"
Mara watched them, leaning against the cold metal wall, feeling a wave of overwhelming emotion crash over her. But she knew the night wasn't finished.
She checked her watch: **12:08 AM**.
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Seven minutes before Evelyn Voss took off into the Chicago night.
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