Barrenlands: An Odyssey (Old Work)

Chapter Twenty-Three.

1

THE man surged through the hallway, the bottom of his heels sinking into the plush carpet with every step. His steps weren't light, and his mood wasn't good. Still fuming deep down inside, he seized the edge of the doorframe to the captives' room and jabbed at the small security screen. He closed his eyes, contemplating on his next move as he heard the mechanics of the door hiss open. Taking a step inside, he opened his eyes – his day having gotten a whole lot worse within the space of seconds.

"Fucking hell," he breathed to himself, lifting the headset back to his mouth. With anger and frustration taking a firm hold over his body, he listened as the connection in the ear piece came alive. And then, he gave his order: "Seal the entrances. There are two escapees on the loose in the compound." A blink of the eye and loud, whooping alarms started carving through the silence, red lights flashing from the roof and across the walls. In front of him, the two restraining benches lay empty, the shackles having being melted open. To the wayside was his toolbox, the top still open like he had left it. His emotions continued to boil, and he found himself struggling not to lose his mentality. If it wasn't one thing that went up shit creek, it was another.

"Shit!" he yelled in the voice of a tortured, raging man. He lashed out with a boot, kicking one of the legs of the metal bench and leaving a massive curve of a dent. But his rage didn't stop there, and he steamed towards the toolbox before lifting the top rack and chucking it across the room. Tools and parts flew across the room, landing in a clattering rain. Trying to come to a rational state, he reached out his arms and propped himself up against the edge of the benches, his head between his outstretched arms and his eyes diverted to the floor. He would punish them himself. Pushing himself away from the support, he tore out of the room and down the hallway towards the tactical room where he had just been moments earlier. His technicians were already clambering over their screens, checking visuals of cameras and sensors for any personnel that remained unaccounted for. But everyone seemed to check out, except for one.

"Commander, it appears that we can't get a signal on Freud."

The man, knowing exactly what to do, took a few steps backwards before placing his palm on a pad and entering an adjoining armoury room just aft of the forward entrance door. There, he paced down the aisle, coming to the end and reaching for the-

"-Holy Grail," he breathed. The Holy Grail; the rifle of a gun to end all weapons. It had enough power to blast a hole in the Earth but so long as he wore the protection, it wouldn't impact him in any way. But there was one thing that nagged at his mind, which he quickly put to rest. It was still in prototype stages. Still, the results that came back showed that the long rifle performed remarkably well and his Brute squad would be wielding them within months. Months. And it was at the point where he really wanted to take no further precautions with the two escaped captives. Cradling it in his arms like a baby child, he stepped out of the armoury and rested it on his shoulder.

"What sector was Freud working in?"

The technician glanced up, her eyes taking in the massive rig which he carried. It was a beast alright – a magnificent beast, and it suited his personality down to the point. Delaying no further, she looked back at the screen and then to the man once more. "Sector 6, Commander. Last sensory ping was approximately five minutes ago."

The location – a map with the section glowing green – etched into his mind, the man powered out of the room and began his tirade through the building, the machine bouncing lightly against his collarbone and shoulders. As far as he was concerned, he had the advantage for the Engineer made two errors. Firstly, the sensors were designed to coincide with an implant of all employees that would ping off exactly who was in that location. The second – and possibly the one to push her to her detriment – was that Section 6 was within the heart of the compound, and she would sure as hell be damned to escape from their alive.