The interrogator released the door. She marched over to the wall where the riot shields were and picked one up, then fastened a gas mask over her face and eyes. She grinned and took a canister of tear gas and two stun batons from behind the protective equipment.
Red lights flashed.
The alarm blared.
The interrogator pulled the pin on the tear gas canister and walked over to the break room door. She threw the can inside, then closed the door behind her and threw her weight onto it.
Through the coughing and crying, the guards in the break room managed to put together a team to batter the door. Though the interrogator held fast as best she could, the people on the other side were bigger. They pushed the door open at last and poured out, choking.
The interrogator activated a stun baton. She whacked one of the guards with the electric prod and held him down with it. When she could smell the kevlar burning into his flesh, she moved to another person and repeated the process with her.
“Bet you wish you’d stayed in the tear gas, huh?”
She put the baton back in her jacket and pulled out her gun. She sized up her enemies, chose the biggest, and fired.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Three down. The rest seemed harder to choose.
She placed the gun back in her belt and withdrew the emptiest syringe. Into the throat of the smallest guard, she pumped the ketamines, then split the remainder between the two guards still choking from the gas.
She checked the number of bullets left in her chamber, opened the break room door, and allowed some of the tear gas to escape. She kicked a bullet-ridden corpse as she waited. “You might not realize it yet,” she said, “But you were one of the lucky ones.”
The emergency guards on B5 were down. Other officers patrolled the facility, but the most potentially dangerous had been neutralized. The biggest threat to the interrogator’s escape were the doors, which the computer may have locked, and the tower guards outside.
A screech sounded from the cages. The door jangled and clanged, something big behind it trying to escape. Claws scratched at the metal doors, hinges squealed at the weight battering against it. With each beating against the door, the strain worked against the hinges. A steel screw popped out of the door.
The interrogator closed the door to the break room as the male chimeras swarmed out.
The squealed, screamed, voices like cracking wails of teenage boys hoping to see the sun for the first time. Several made their way over to the bodies on the floor and, in their hormone-induced rage, ripped the bodies of the guards to pieces, living or dead. The interrogator held the door still while blood seeped under the door and soaked into her boots.
The scurrying and ripping outside stopped as quickly as it had begun. “Stop that! Stop – oh my God, oh my God! What have I done?”
“Dani!?” the interrogator yelled, hoping her voice carried through the door. “Dani, send them away.”
“I killed them! I killed the guards,” she wailed.
“You didn’t kill them. Now listen to me,” the interrogator said. “If we play our cards right, it’s a straight shot from here to the exit. As long as we can get to the van, we’ll be safe. I’ve packed the back with food, water, and solar panels to recharge the van.” She cracked the door open slightly, but jerked it closed again when she saw the team of spiders just outside. “Send your boys up the stairs in front of us and let a couple follow.”
“But they’ll kill people,”
“If the scientists at this facility have any sense, they won’t get in the way. You don’t fight twenty bulletproof super soldiers with a handfull of half-trained aides and a few CIA agents.” She gulped. “Send your boys on. We need to drive a long ways.”
The male spiders scurried, exiting into the stairwell as Dani held the door for them. The interrogator, eyes closed and gas mask still on, exited the break room and felt along the wall. She made it to the door.
“Something wrong with your eyes?” Dani asked.
“I do better when I can hear your voice and imagine a human.”
“Is it about your fear of chimeras?”
“Close enough.” The interrogator exited into the stairwell and, a gun in one hand and the stair railing in the other, followed the angry scurrying and clacks of the males’ footsteps in front of her.