Evenfall (120 page)

But that wasn't going to be the case. The leaders weren't there; no one in the inner core was there. Not even the leaders of lower tier rebel groups were there; it was a mixture of what appeared to be Janus administration and rebel flunkies.

Something inside of him twisted and he exhaled slowly. "The information was wrong," He said flatly. "Thierry was wrong." He sat up abruptly, still crouching in the shadows, and shoved the rifle back in the cavern of the wall. He had no use for it now; it could stay there since he didn't need any unnecessary baggage. "Fuck this. I say we proceed with stage 2." There was a long pause, as if Boyd was giving himself the chance to either get away from others or perhaps waiting for a moment when there was enough noise around him that any response would not be overheard. Finally, he said quietly, "Agreed."

"B12 first," Sin said softly. As Boyd had said weeks ago, an explosion in that area would compromise the entire structure of the Northeast wing and both connecting corridors. "7, 8, 6, 4, 5; five second intervals," He continued cryptically, naming the exits they'd previously discussed. The explosions would turn Theater 3 into an inescapable inferno until it completely collapsed in on itself as well as causing severe damage to both corridors. The plan was to destroy the Northeast exits, 7 and 8, which led out into the parking lot and then when they had both escaped out of their assigned exits in the Northeast and Southeast corridors, they would destroy those as well and hope the civilians had managed to escape after the first explosion. "Regroup at Calle Treinta and Amarilla unless otherwise stated."

He was already moving quickly, going back the way he'd come as he listened to the blur of background noise on Boyd's end and assumed that meant he was moving through the crowd. It would have been easy to exit through the Southwest wing but those exits led directly into a very public part of the boulevard, one that was especially populated at night and the exits at the Southeast and Northeast corridors offered the best routes to their designated meeting place. He moved through the courtyard the same way he'd done it the first time and entered door A; one of the entrances that led directly to the Southeast corridor from the courtyard. He stayed in the shadows of the nook the door opened into and slid his hand into his pocket, finger on the detonator. "Go."

"Roger," Boyd said after a moment and a lot of the sound had fallen away from the background on his end.

The explosion rocked the entire complex and even though it occurred in the very bowels of the structure, all of the wings and surrounding areas shook violently as if an earthquake had suddenly begun. He could hear screaming in the Southeast corridor, the sounds of running feet and shouting as loud crashes echoed up and down the long hallway. He closed his eyes briefly, counting it out, wondering if all service staff had managed to get out of the corridor before--

BOOM.

There went Exit 7.

BOOM.

And 8.

More screaming, this time coming from the direction of the Grande Ballroom and he assumed it was more due to panic than anything else. At this point all exits leading directly from the Northeast wing and Theater 3 to the outdoors were completely destroyed; all that was left was to block the exits leading into the corridors as well.

He sprinted into the Southeast corridor, not bothering to remove his mask as he dodged falling debris from the ceiling and jumped over fallen tables, serving trays and whatever else the serving staff had dropped in their rush to escape. By the time he was nearly to his appointed exit and the site of the last two bombs on his end, he heard the sixth exit go and knew that Boyd had completed his part. Sin continued to run, noticing that so far no one was spilling out of the Northeast wing which meant that they were either all injured, blocked off by debris, or dead. He was almost at the doors when he suddenly skidded to a stop.

The soft moan had caught his attention first and his eyes had automatically dropped to the source of the sound; Jessica lay sprawled on the floor. Two large ceiling panels had fallen on top of her and crushed her to the ground. Her face was covered in blood, hair matted with it and as smoke began to invade the corridor, as flames licked at the doors that led to the Northeast wing and whooshed inside like a wave, she didn't seem to be moving anytime soon. "Fucking shit," He swore loudly.

"What's wrong?" Boyd asked immediately over the radio. People could be heard screaming in the background on his end, asking what was happening, trying to figure out if anyone was hurt. Even if Boyd had been overheard, his question would have blended in with what everyone else was yelling.

"Jessica. She's badly injured." Sin stared down at her, finger trained on the detonator as he glanced at the door leading to the Northeast wing again. Still, no one appeared and the flames were growing stronger, waves of heat washing over him as the smoke made it unbearable to breathe. Without another moment's hesitation, he grabbed one of the panels and yanked it off her, tossing it to the side as he started on the other. She opened her eyes into slits and peered up at him, face a mask of pain, confusion and fear before she fell into unconsciousness once again.

"We don't have time for this shit," Boyd said testily. In the background, the faint sound of sirens could be heard. "Just fucking leave her, the cops are on their way."

Sin grit his teeth in annoyance and ignored Boyd, grunting as he shoved the other panel off her legs. The sheet of metal gave a loud, whining sound as it scraped against the floor but finally she was freed.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Boyd's voice rose. "Get out of there!"

"Just shut the hell up! I'm not going to detonate explosives that will fucking kill her!" He shouted angrily and hoisted Jessica's slender frame easily, throwing her over one shoulder as he turned back towards his appointed exits. By now he could hear people on the opposite side of the door, coughing and yelling, attempts to move debris and get into the corridor. He resumed his sprint in the direction of his exit, coughing violently as smoke swirled around him. "I'm taking her out of here," He snapped into the microphone.

"You fucking idiot," Boyd growled, and there was a pause as the sounds of people screaming grew fainter behind him and static started to grow on the radio. "Fuck it. I'm too far away now, I can't make it back. Switch to Plan B." He paused, then added coldly, "If this gets you caught you fucking deserve it."

Something in Sin twisted and for a moment all he could feel was anger; the kind of anger that completely consumed him and made him temporarily forget the heat of the flames because the fire spreading inside of him was so much hotter. He continued to run, noticing that the static on the microphone was getting louder and that Boyd really was leaving him and running completely out of range. Why couldn't he fucking understand that Sin couldn't just leave her to die? She was innocent. She was only there because of him; because he'd made her think he'd be around to see her later. Why couldn't Boyd just fucking get that? Why couldn't--

"Fuck you," He snapped into the microphone and before Boyd could respond, they were abruptly out of range and static completely filled his ear.

He ran out of the building and detonated the rest of the bombs. The explosions nearly knocked him off his feet and the flames burst out of all possible seams of the Northeast wing, illuminating the night sky. Surrounding trees were consumed by flames, they looked like enormous candles as the leaves caught fire rapidly. There was the loud whining sound of the infrastructure giving way and loud resounding booms echoed around the quad as the ceiling started to cave. Smoke and waves of heat washed over the surrounding area and became so overpowering that he grew dizzy briefly; the combination of the heat and the smoke almost caused him to lose his footing.

But he didn't fall and he didn't let go of Jessica.

As the building behind him began to collapse to the ground, he disappeared into the darkness.

Chapter 37

Boyd's legs cramped as he crouched in the darkness, his heart beating a little too fast although he kept his breath silent, even. The thump of footsteps on the steps shuddered dust down onto his hair, almost getting in his eyes. The footsteps were heavy, ponderous; he could tell it was a man and judging by the sounds when he kicked things over, he wore steel-toed boots. Boyd also thought he heard evidence of a shotgun; the way the gun was handled, the heaviness when it was set down, the rustling of the strap against clothing.

"No
nos haga daρo, por favor, seρor, por favor,"
a woman was moaning repeatedly, sounding as terrified as she was upset. Boyd knew her
as Marνa, currently crouched in the room at the top of the stairs. Even though Boyd was pressed into a crawl space in a wall, he could hear her clearly through the open door to her room upstairs. A child's voice drifted down as well; muffled sniffles and
the occasional fearful cry.

"
Cαllate
," a man ordered languidly and Boyd could hear a few things being shoved over. There were two of them in the room, walking around slowly and overturning anything in their way.

"
No
," Marνa pleaded, tears in her voice. "
No nos mate, no nos dispare, por favor, somos inocentes, por favor…"

Something crashed to the floor and she cried out, though it sounded more as though she was frightened by the noise than that she was actually hurt. The man made a disgusted noise, his footsteps pausing in one area for a long moment, before he said something rapidly in Spanish that Boyd couldn't understand through the floor. The door slammed shut and Boyd could hear him as he walked to the landing above him.

Marνa made another loud, moaning wa
il that drifted into sobs. Boyd barely breathed as he heard two sets of footsteps descend the steps down toward him. The moment seemed to stretch alarmingly as the men paused near the hidden entrance to the crawl space.

He could hear the now-familiar sound of a cigarette being pulled out of a pack followed by a lighter flicking on a flame. The two men murmured something to each other but they were cut off by the insistent beeping of what sounded like a radio.

One of them made a noise of annoyance, there was the rustling of clothing as the radio was presumably pulled out, and the clicking of a button as he said louder,
"No estα aqui."

There was white noise and then someone over the radio said, "
Sigan con la bϊsqueda. El capitαn cree que el sospechoso estα en el αrea."

"
ΏTenemos informaciσn mαs fiable?"

There was a pause as the man on the other side of the line rattled off something too rapid to understand, his voice muffled as if he was speaking away from the radio.
Boyd heard one of the men on the landing shift and make an impatient noise in the back of his throat.
"Llevamos varios dνas recorriendo esta area,"
he continued with clear irritation in his voice when the man on the radio was paying attention again.
 
"
ΏSabemos si realmente estα aquν?
"

"No, pero las otras vecindades han investigado sin resultados."
 
The man on the other end paused and added pointedly,
"
Sabemos que Independencia serνa el mejor lugar para esconderse, pero de ninguna forma un gringo puede sobrevivir allν."

Both men standing on the landing snorted derisively, one of them letting out a truncated and harsh laugh.
"Sin duda,"
 
the one holding the radio said.

"
Asν que la prioridad es concentrarse en el Barrio Antiguo por ahora,"
 
the man on the radio continued almost offhandedly. There was a brief pause while the man spoke rapidly to someone on the other line, his words too muffled and accented for Boyd to catch, before his voice became clear as he spoke into the radio again.

"Pues,"
 
the man on the radio said dismissively,
"dιse prisa.
Vayan a la sig
uiente casa y a la siguiente despuιs de esa, si es necesario.
El capitαn quiere al sospechoso arrestado e interrogado antes del fin de semana."

The man acknowledged the comment. Once the radio was turned off the men spoke back and forth rapidly, both clearly tired of the monotony of the search. Still, they didn't hesitate to follow orders and head to the next house.
Boyd forced himself to stay still and count to five minutes even though his entire body thrummed with the need to get out of there.
He didn't have much time. If the Federales were concentrating on this neighborhood, he likely only had a small window to escape notice and run to his next
safe house
. And with the directive to catch him and interrogate him by the weekend, time was even shorter.

Time seemed to drag. When he finally hit five minutes, he shifted and silently crawled forward, peering through the opening as best he could. He couldn't see anyone in the vicinity.
The tension didn't quite leave his shoulders even then; he was quick as he grabbed his bag and crawled out of his hiding space.
Dust clouded around him, catching on his hair and face. He was filthy; he'd been crawling through so many dirty areas that it coated him and he'd left almost all his clothing behind so he didn't have much to change into. His dark, plain clothes were made darker by days of grime and his hair was a mess. Although a few of the places he had stopped had running water and he'd briefly been able to clean up, it actually worked to his advantage to look like a vagrant.

He'd cut his hair shorter and dyed it dark brown. Once he stopped wearing the blue contacts, the dark, short hair and his natural brown eyes gave him a different look than anyone who knew him as Kadin Reed or even Boyd Beaulieu.
Although when he'd left the JKS he had been certain he'd done his best to blend in, from what he'd been able to gather from newspaper headlines and the talk around the city, there had been a single witness to see him go and that had been enough to change everything.

From the sound of it, it seemed as though a woman who lived in one of the nearby apartment buildings had looked out the window when the explosions began. The police and authorities had questioned everyone in the building with windows facing the center and they'd come upon her. Although she'd mistakenly told them that the sole person she'd seen exiting the property had been the only person to escape safely from that section of the building, the police had jumped on the information and deemed this lone survivor as a suspect.

And then the Federales were brought in.

Although they were actually correct about him being the suspect, it made Boyd's life much more difficult. Authorities were searching for any slender men of his height who was Caucasian, around seventeen to twenty-five, and had light-colored hair. Even though he'd dyed his hair, he'd noticed that as the search wore on, the Federales were snatching up any white man of his height and age off the streets. Rumors circulated that 'suspects' were being interrogated under harsh conditions and white foreigners without work or student visas were getting the brunt of the aggression as the government put on the heat for someone, anyone, to be found.

They wouldn't necessarily know who Boyd was or even care, but even though he had a passport stating that he was Kadin Reed, he'd been in Mexico under the pretense of an extended vacation so he didn't have a visa. The fact that he no longer looked like the picture in his passport would most likely add to the suspicion.
The last thing he needed was to be captured and detained in Mexico, probably for a ridiculous amount of time until the Agency managed to somehow get him out of it.

And there was Janus.

It was harder to discern their methods but he had very little doubt that they were searching for both the culprits and any attendee of the Orientation who remained unaccounted for. He and Sin had placed the bombs to do maximum damage to Janus while minimizing the danger to any civilians. But there had still been a few Janus attendees who had escaped.

Janus had to be searching attendees with a fine-toothed comb. And when Kadin Reed showed up missing, not in a hospital, and not among the confirmed dead, he was likely to be investigated. Even if he tried to claim he was afraid and fled, he didn't know how far that would get him. Not to mention the possibility of Janus being connected to the authorities.
If that was the case, his position was more precarious than ever if law enforcement caught him.

He heard light, quick footsteps approaching. Jorge's familiar, messy head appeared around the corner, quickly glancing around the room to be certain no one else was there.

"Go," he ordered quietly upon entering the room. "They are gone."

"Thanks, Jorge," Boyd said softly, looking quickly past him to the hallw
ay and listening intently for any sound. It wasn't that he distrusted Jorge; it was simply that he was on high alert. Jorge either did not notice or care and Boyd slipped a few bills out of his pocket, pressing them into Jorge's hand. "For Marνa, tell her
thank you. She sounded very convincing."

Jorge shrugged and said calmly, "She knows," but he pocketed the money anyway. He jerked his head impatiently. "Go. They can return."

Boyd slipped past Jorge, moving quickly to the back door of the house where he pa
used to listen for any movement on the other side. It was as silent out there as it was in the house now that Marνa wasn't feigning terror, but he still waited a few seconds to be certain. He opened the door just enough to search the surroundings, then sli
d into the shadows outside and headed through the tiny space of green this area had behind the houses. He only looked back once, where he saw Jorge watching him silently from the doorway with his serious dark eyes.

Boyd had to move cautiously but quickly through the streets.
The city was on a lock-down. All transportation to and from Monterrey was blocked and every official entrance and exit was heavily guarded by the authorities. No one was making it in or out of the city without being seen.
Although Tayla had helped Boyd immensely by telling him of the secret passages into Monterrey, that only helped keep them out of the radar of the authorities. It didn't mean the underground groups claiming the passageways as their territory would appreciate anyone else using them, especially if they didn't know who he was.
The security in the city had been worse right after they'd destroyed the JKS but even now, nearing two weeks later, it would still be a challenge. Boyd was hoping that in three
days’ time
when he and Sin were scheduled to meet, the secret exit he thought they would be least likely to be hassled trying to use would be a little less guarded than it had been when he'd walked past it four days prior.

He'd been doing well to stay under the radar but there was no doubt that even for him it was difficult. If he hadn't known people like Jorge, if he hadn't learned Monterrey so well, including a number of backup safe places for each area of the city, he almost positively would have been caught. The opposition was swarming everywhere.

He wound his way through the city, hiding his tracks to his next hiding place. He'd initially been going toward this safe place earlier when he'd almost stumbled upon a few Mexican authorities who were doing their rounds and had ducked into Jorge's.

The safe house on Sur loomed before him in the dark. This was one of the streets that had a dramatic drop of a hill on one side, and long stretches of space where either no one had bothered building a house or what had been built had long ago deteriorated. It should have taken less than ten minutes to get there but with the amount of presence on the streets, it took him almost three times as long.

Finally he saw his safe house.

Boyd hopped over a mound of broken wood and corrugated metal, his feet twisting at an angle to keep him upright as he partially slid down the hill. As he darted around the side toward the back door he lost his footing on loose dirt and tripped over an unexpected wooden beam. He nearly careened down the hill and had to snap a hand out to catch himself on one of the few rogue bushes.
He stopped and stayed still for a moment, heart pounding so hard he could practically feel it in his throat, and looked around to see if anyone had heard the scraping and rustling.

There wasn't a sound so, after a heart-stopping moment, he crawled his way back up the hill.

Crouched and hidden by the shadows, he pulled out a small flashlight and waited a few seconds to listen for any movement. It was dark enough that no one would see him but that also meant he couldn't tell if anyone was watching him. And, poised as he was on a relatively bare hillside, any light he showed was liable to stand out more than just in his vicinity.
After a moment he turned back and leaned down so he could see the bottom corner of the door. The flashlight was flicked on and off within the space of a breath and he was already out of the yard and onto a side street before he heard movement in what should have been his safe house. One of the tests he'd left behind, the small line he'd left at the back door, was broken and indicated that the building was no longer abandoned.
He could no longer trust it to be secure.

He slipped through the shadows, his heart pounding every time he heard a noise or he thought he saw movement around him.
It was torturous trying to head to his next location; it was nearly all the way across the city from here and required him to pass more than one busy thoroughfare, including both freeways on either side of the river. Walking in good conditions would have taken him nearly three hours, so he was forced to steal a small motorbike at one point and ride it as long as he dared. He had to squeeze between buildings and duck into carports more than once to avoid being seen by vehicles and law enforcement.

He was almost halfway to his destination when he heard the rumbling of an open-backed truck full of Federales rolling his way. He had no place to go with the motorbike and absolutely no time to be subtle. He was forced to drop the motorbike right on the side of the street and run to the nearest yard. He was only barely able to hop the concrete wall and duck out of view before a flashlight swept past his location.

The truck rolled to a stop next to the motorbike. Boyd heard them discussing how suspicious it was, thrown down like that, and he swore inwardly. He stayed crouched and silent as he wound through the tiny back yard and hopped the fence into the next door courtyard space. He was able to make it about halfway down the block that way before he ran out of back yards and ran straight up against buildings pressed against each other.

He could hear the Federales moving around down the street, presumably starting to check out the area. Cursing again under his breath, Boyd looked around for an escape route.
He ended up having to climb to the top of the wall, risking being seen while he leaped to the metal railings on a second floor balcony and scrambled up. The lights were off inside the apartment and he felt adrenaline crash through him. He heard the Federales growing closer, starting to talk about fanning out to check the backyards, and he saw the sweep of a flashlight cross the ground a few buildings away.

Shit,
he thought, and hoped like hell no one would wake up when he was forced to quickly jimmy open the window and duck inside.
He landed silently in what looked to be a tiny apartment, in the ambiguous area that was the kitchen, living room and dining room combined. He heard soft snoring from the other side of a closed door and, wincing and watching that door like a hawk, he slowly but silently shut the window again. He didn't want to show the Federales exactly where he'd fled.
Without waiting for the resident to wake after all, he darted across the apartment and quietly let himself out of the apartment. After that it was a quick navigation through the building down to the street, where he peered out the main door and, after determining the Federales weren't there, running out onto the street and as fast and far away as he could from his hunters.

After a few blocks he had to stop running to keep his footfalls from echoing in emptier streets. He wove in and out of shadows, trying to stay out of sight and away from anyone who could report him.

He'd just thought he may be safe, entering into neighborhoods where they were less likely to be looking for him, when in the middle of a skinny street the size of an alley back home he suddenly heard the thumping of many boots down the street ahead of him. He froze and turned, ready to run back the way he'd come, but he realized immediately that it hadn't just been echoes he'd heard-- there were people on that side too.