“Come on,” he yelled, barely hearing his own voice, “this way.”
They stepped into the corridor, Nigel still garbed in his pyjamas; thin pants and a loose t-shirt. The sound of the siren was quieter out here, less compressed, and they headed to the left. An attempt had been made to give the appearance of homeliness to the sleeping quarters. The walls were panel-lined and commissioned paintings hung on the walls depicting innocuous scenes of wildlife and landscapes. Ordinarily there would be gentle music playing through unseen speakers, but that was either currently drowned out, or not playing at all.
The sleeping quarters were in a section separated from the main atrium by a pair of heavy automatic doors. On lockdown, which this almost certainly was, the doors would close and seal. This was not to stop people from getting out, so much as it was to stop them from getting in the way. They hurried down one corridor into another that led through the common area.
A small selection of people had gathered here in light of the sirens, but seemed unsure of what to do next. A couple of them sat in the lounges provided, calm in the knowledge that someone else was responsible for figuring it out. Others stood by the tv, which was turned off, hoping it would give out some magic information that would clear everything up. As they walked through the room all eyes fell on them. First, one woman turned to see who it was, then another. With the alarm ringing in their ears, Nigel and Milly stepped through a field of scrutiny, no doubt fuelled by Nigel’s efforts at the memorial and his current dishevelled look. Nigel ignored the group and moved to another set of doors.
As he reached out to open these, he was grabbed by the shoulder and pulled backwards.
“Where are you going?” A large man with a thick moustache and a thicker German accent yelled over the siren.
“Let me go,” shouted Nigel. He shrugged the hand off his shoulder.
The German man grabbed him again.
“Leave. The frau. Alone.”
Nigel rolled his eyes at the big man in front of him. Milly stood back a way, allowing Nigel to deal with the situation while a small crowd lingered around them.
“I won’t hurt her.” Nigel reached up and put his hand on the other man’s. “Let. Me. Go.”
The big man squeezed Nigel’s shoulder. Hard. He could feel the fingers pinch the bones in his shoulder and he fought the urge to grimace in pain. He gripped the hand under the fingers and wrenched, twisting the arm and pushing the man to the floor before pinning him down with his knee. As the German growled in pain, he looked up at the others.
“I’m not a threat,” his voice hurt from yelling. “Leave us alone.”
Two men lunged at him. One pushed him off the German while the other attempted to pin him down. Nigel rolled out of the way and held out his hands.
“Stop.”
They didn’t. As the German got to his feet, all three attacked at once. Nigel dropped one man with a left hook and ducked under another’s attack. He tackled the German and kicked out at the other man, driving him back. Another man and a woman dragged him off the prone man and held his arms back as fists pummelled him. He lunged, pulling the couple holding him forward, then jumped back. The slack created allowed an easy escape. Milly held back the other man while Nigel dropped his stance, prepared for another round.
“STOP!” shouted Milly, holding out her arms as a barrier.
Everyone stopped. Despite the wailing of the siren, a silence of sorts settled over the room.
“HE’S HELPING,” she yelled.
Confusion settled thick over the crowd. They had got their blood up trying to save a woman from a serial pest and now they were stuck. They still wanted to protect her, but now she had yelled at them, muddying the situation. Everyone stood around awkwardly looking at each other. Nigel reached out and took Milly’s hand, pulling her back slowly, away from the vigilante crew. He backed them up to the doors and pulled one open without looking. After he bundled Milly through, he bowed at the group staring at him.
“It’s been nice,” he said, then stepped into the small lobby beyond, ignoring the warmth of their glares. There was a concierge desk here, though Nigel had never seen anyone use it, and a series of potted ferns lining the walls, leading to the elevator and another couple of doors.
Milly had already made her way to the elevator.
Nigel shook his head and pointed to the stairs.
He pulled open the stairwell door and Milly followed him through. Once in, with the door shut, the alarm was quiet enough for the pair to think clearly.
“What the fuck is wrong with people?” asked Milly, shaking with what Nigel took to be rage.
“They were just trying to help,” he responded, rubbing the back of his left hand. The left hook had sent a shock through the electric scar and it still tingled. He regretted punching the man, but had felt as though he had no choice. “As far as they’re concerned, I’m the crazy guy that tried to shoot you in front of hundreds of people. Even people who hadn’t showed at the ceremony would have heard about it by now. Then they see me walking through the place with you in tow while an alarm is going off. I know I’d try to stop me.”
“Yeah, but-”
“No. There really isn’t a flip side to this coin. In fact, I think they came on a little soft.”
Milly stood still and listened to the sirens. Her head bobbed to the beat of the whoops and wails as she thought over what he had said. It would seem that she didn’t agree, but she wasn’t arguing it right now.
“Which way?” she asked after a while.
“Down.”
“Don’t you want to go to your office? See what’s happening?”
Nigel pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think it’s my office anymore. If we’re going to be of any help, it’ll be where most people are likely to gather.”
“The plaza?”
“Exactly,” he replied. “Not only are we likely to find some answers there, it gets us in the centre of everything. That gives us freedom.”
While he didn’t say it out loud, he thought Milly would understand what he meant. If he was to be confined to his quarters for what was left of his time here, this would give him some air before they shut him away to figure out what to do with him.
“What do you suppose is going on?” Milly asked as they walked down the stairs. Luckily the sleeping quarters were only a couple of flights up from the plaza, so they wouldn’t need to go far.
“I don’t know,” Nigel replied, “and I really don’t want to either.”
“I don’t think we’ll have much choice,” she said. “Whatever, whoever set off that alarm meant business.”
She doesn’t even know the half of it, thought Nigel. That particular siren is an alert to set the facility in full shut down. All processes to be stopped and all personnel to be gathered and accounted for. Just a couple of days ago, it would have been Nigel’s job to round everyone up and tell them the good news, whatever it may be. Now, Nigel supposed, it fell to Levi. Within the next hour, the security team should be going from door to door, stirring everyone up and getting them to the plaza to be counted, one group at a time. They may have even begun, which was partly the reason why Nigel wanted to go there. Where people gathered, so did answers.
They came to the bottom landing of the stairwell and stepped towards the door. As Milly reached out to open it, the siren stopped. She froze.
“What does that mean?” She looked at Nigel, her face showing half fear, half curiosity.
“It means,” he said, his heart quickening, “that whoever triggered the alarm has either turned it off, or has had their button destroyed. The first option is good. The second is very, very bad.”
He put his hand on Milly’s and drew it back from the door. Stepping closer, he pressed the side of his face to the cool, flat surface and listened. The beat of his own heart echoed through his ears and hammered in his head, the sounds of trillions of microbes living in the door chittered and scraped, the silence deafened him with its deep sense of anticipation. Beyond these, he heard nothing. No people chatting or moving about, no chairs scraping or work being carried out, nothing.
His hand shook and he steadied it with the other as he reached for the door. Milly looked down at his quaking fingers and back at him with questioning eyes. He returned the gaze.
“Whatever happens out there,” he said in a low, even voice, “I need you to stay with me. You got it?”
She nodded in response, her breath so shallow he could barely hear it.
“Okay,” he said, “are you ready?”
She nodded again. This time with not so keen an effort.
He pushed the door a crack, then further still. He waited, keeping his breath quiet and listening for any movement whatsoever. Silence was the response. When satisfied that they were not going to be attacked, he opened the door completely.
Milly’s scream tore through his ears and deep, deep into his soul.