Free Web NovelChapter 266: Chapter 265 - Locked Out
Malcolm moved after the soldiers left.
The main corridor opened ahead, bright and white under the ceiling lights. The observation ward stretched along one side, glass cells lined one after another with bodies behind them. Some patients stood close to the glass. Some sat on the floor with their heads tilted toward the noise. Others turned slowly as Malcolm passed.
The radio on the table crackled behind him.
"He’s in the east corridor. Support team down. Alert all interior posts."
Another voice cut in. "Lock the deeper sections."
The alarm started.
A harsh sound tore through the corridor. Red lights snapped on above the doors. Somewhere deeper in the lab, metal locks dropped into place one after another.
"Seal it! Seal it now!"
Malcolm looked ahead.
A steel door at the far end began to close over the deeper corridor.
He ran.
A soldier came from behind him, boots striking hard against the floor. "Contact! East corridor!"
Malcolm turned, fired once, and kept moving before the body hit. The shot cracked through the observation ward. Behind the glass, patients stirred harder. Hands pressed to the walls. Faces moved closer.
Ahead, a soldier stood on the other side of the closing door and raised his rifle through the narrowing gap.
"He’s coming through!"
Malcolm did not slow.
He threw the knife.
The blade struck the soldier’s wrist and drove his hand back against the metal frame. The rifle jerked sideways as the man screamed. His shot tore into the ceiling instead of Malcolm’s chest.
"Door! Close the door!"
Malcolm dropped into a slide. freёwebnovel.com
Another soldier appeared behind the first and fired. The round struck the floor near Malcolm’s shoulder, skipped, and cut across his right arm before punching into the wall behind him. Heat tore through his sleeve, and blood ran down to his wrist.
Malcolm kept sliding.
His coat scraped against the lower edge while the steel came down above him. He rolled through the gap, twisted wrong on his shoulder, and kicked up hard. His boot hit the first soldier’s knee.
The man folded, still pinned by the knife in his wrist. Malcolm came up with his pistol raised, right arm burning, and shot the second soldier before he adjusted his aim.
The door slammed shut behind Malcolm.
"Did he get through?"
"Check the inner side!"
"Inner side, respond!"
Malcolm’s right hand tightened wrong around the pistol. Blood slicked his grip. He flexed his fingers once, forced them steady, and grabbed the knife handle.
The pinned soldier opened his mouth to scream.
Malcolm twisted the knife free, caught him by the vest, slammed him into the wall, and cut under his jaw.
The radio crackled through the alarm.
"Lockdown on sections 1-4. Intruder crossed into the inner corridor."
Malcolm wiped his bloody hand once against his pants, took the rifle from the floor, checked the magazine, and moved deeper.
Three hallways crossed ahead.
Left ran toward more glass. Straight went dark beyond a set of yellow hazard lines. Right matched the direction Smith had drawn near control. Malcolm remembered the ugly map. No details. Only direction.
Right.
He turned, then stopped at the corner.
Boots came fast.
"Watch the corner."
Malcolm stayed against the wall and waited until the first soldier crossed. He caught the rifle barrel and shoved it up. The man fired into the ceiling.
"Shit!"
Malcolm drove his knife forward, but the soldier twisted, and the blade cut vest instead of ribs.
The second soldier swung around him.
Malcolm shoved the first man into his path, tore the rifle free, and fired from the hip. The second soldier dropped against the opposite wall.
"Man down!"
The third came in close, too close for the rifle. Malcolm hit him with the stock, stepped inside his reach, and drove him backward into the corner.
The first soldier grabbed Malcolm’s injured arm.
Pain shot through his shoulder.
Malcolm’s grip almost failed. He slammed his elbow into the man’s throat, pulled the pistol from the soldier’s belt, and fired once into his chest. The third soldier recovered and reached for Malcolm’s neck. Malcolm turned with the pain, let the hands pass over his shoulder, and fired again before the man could lock his grip.
The corridor went still except for the alarm.
A radio crackled from one of the bodies.
"Inner corridor contact. Teams converge on control. Repeat, converge on control."
Another voice snapped back. "How many intruders?"
A pause.
"One."
"Say again."
"One intruder."
Malcolm took the pistol, left the empty rifle, and ran.
The hall split again.
He turned right.
Two soldiers stood ahead near an open equipment cage, pulling on gear. One had a vest half-fastened. The other was loading a magazine.
"There!"
Malcolm shot the one with the magazine first.
The second grabbed for his rifle. Malcolm crossed the distance, kicked the rifle into the cage, and drove the knife into his side. The man hit the wire mesh and slid down, dragging equipment with him.
Malcolm stepped over him and reached the control room door.
Heavy metal.
Small glass panel.
Red lock light.
He swiped the dead guard’s badge.
Red.
He swiped the nurse’s badge.
Red.
He tried the first badge again, harder.
Red.
The alarm kept screaming. The observation ward behind him had gone louder now. Somewhere down the hall, soldiers shouted over one another as more teams moved toward his position.
"Control, lock him out!"
"Control room secure."
"Keep him outside."
Malcolm hit the panel with the heel of his hand.
The casing cracked.
The lock stayed red.
He hit it again.
"Open."
The door did not move.
Through the small glass panel, he saw the control room monitors glowing inside. Camera feeds flashed across the screens. Corridors. Cells. Moving soldiers. Doors closing one by one.
He was close enough to break the lab open.
The lock stayed red.
A sound moved behind him.
Malcolm turned.
One of the soldiers near the equipment cage was still alive. He had dragged himself halfway up, one hand wrapped around his rifle, the barrel lifting toward Malcolm’s back.
A gunshot cracked from above.
The soldier’s head snapped down. His body dropped flat against the floor.
Malcolm froze.
That shot had not come from him.
He raised his pistol toward the ceiling.
A vent cover above the control room shifted. A thin hand pushed it aside, shaking around a gun.
A face looked down at him from the dark.
Hollow cheeks. Cracked lips. Dirt across the jaw.
Behind him, another shape filled the vent, broader and heavier, breathing hard as he braced one arm against the metal frame.
Malcolm kept the pistol raised. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm
The thin one swallowed.
"Don’t shoot."
