Evenfall (30 page)

Moving as fast as he could so his motions were not misunderstood, Boyd pulled the small remote out of his nearby bag. Sin tensed, eyes narrowing but his face turned into a study of complete shock when Boyd threw the remote at him. Sin caught it in midair, the action almost an unconscious reflex as their eyes stayed locked.

"Take it," Boyd panted roughly. "I don't want it-- I'm not here to hurt you."

For a long moment the only sound in the room was both of their labored breathing as they stared at each other. For the first time since they'd met, Sin's expression was completely open and his thoughts were clear.

Emotions Boyd hadn't even been positive Sin ever felt were aimed at him. Shock, guilt, and fear dominated his slightly widened green eyes and his parted lips. The moment stretched as they stared at each other, the chaos of the last few minutes adding to the panting of their breath and eyes locked on each other. But it didn't last long and everything snapped back to normal speed.

Sin abruptly ran out of the cabin. He was there and gone so fast that it seemed like he'd disappeared within the blink of an eye.

Boyd stared blankly at the door, his mind still struggling to fully understand what had just happened. At length he pushed himself up, grimacing at the bruises that pulled at his body. Sin had taken the remote with him and Boyd was glad to be rid of the thing.

A faint sense of shock remained in his system for several minutes even as he went into autopilot. When he shut the door, he realized his arm ached. When he looked down at it he could see red marks. Sin must have grabbed him by the arm when he threw him across the room.

When he walked back to the other side of the room and righted the table, he felt his back pulling painfully. And when he put his belongings back in his bag and put it on the table, he could feel all the aches and pains in his torso. A shock of pain sped down his neck if his head was tilted just so.

He didn't know why he straightened up part of the room, other than because the adrenaline was still moving through him and he felt jittery and wired. He kept half expecting Sin to burst back into the cabin and finish what he'd started, and half expecting to never see Sin again.

In the end, he moved around doing meaningless, mundane tasks until he finally laid down. His body was as creaky and achy as his bed, and when he closed his eyes he was hyper-aware of everything in the room.

Sleep was a long time coming.

===

Boyd didn't change the schedule for the following morning even though Sin never reappeared. The one thing that was clear was that Boyd was alone for this mission. And with that, he felt a grim sense of acceptance.

Every action he took seemed like it would be the last time it occurred. The last time he pulled his hair back in a ponytail. The last time he straightened the clothing he'd been given by Unit 16. The last time he walked out of the cabin.

The last time he headed to a mission.

Boyd infiltrated the base easily; Sin's observations of the guards the day before were invaluable. He was able to slip into the base in the three minute period and avoid nearly everyone.

He walked with a purpose but was casual about it so that the few people he saw in passing barely even glanced at him. He was especially careful to do everything perfectly. It was imperative they catch Andrews before he defected to Janus; he was their strongest chance for an ally right now, and they needed it.

It barely took ten minutes to make it to the Southwest corner, and another five to wind through the hallways to the specific area he believed Andrews would be. The radio remained tucked in his back pocket, flipped on with the volume set very low so from afar it would not sound as though he were masking his presence. Many of the hostiles, Boyd had noticed, did the same thing, and it was one more way to blend in. He noted as he strode down the hall that many of the doors were closed. A few remained open, however, and he glanced in each as he passed. He found that most were empty.

Unfortunately, the one room he needed to be empty wasn't. Halfway down the corridor he planned to use for egress, an open door revealed four men crowded around a table playing cards. One of them yelled loudly when his hand was beat and the other three burst into raucous laughter.

They would be difficult to get past if he made any noise at all when dealing with Andrews.

As he moved further into the base he listened intently to his radio. There was no alarm about an intruder; nothing amiss at all.

As he passed down another hallway, he came upon the area he'd earlier determined was most likely to house Warren Andrews. He paused at an intersection. He didn't want to give away his position so he finally shut the radio off completely. He looked around, ensuring that no one was in view. When he was positive he was alone, he continued forward as silently as possible.

A door was closed toward the end of the hall but he could hear voices emanating from it. He slowed and listened closely, standing to the side of the door. He couldn't understand what they were saying and the voices fell silent seemingly naturally.

He couldn't hear anyone coming and didn't feel anyone's presence.
Even so, simply walking in with complete confidence would be foolhardy. So far, the mission was going more smoothly than any of the previous ones, and yet this should be the most difficult.

That was dangerous, in Boyd's mind, but he couldn't deny the fact that nothing was exactly amiss. It was bothering him, actually; he remained on high alert, but there was nothing to be alert about.

Suddenly there was a loud noise and something was flying around him. Boyd didn't know what it was at first, but he threw himself to the side and tried to scramble away. His legs must not have been under him properly because he slipped and hit the floor with his shoulder. His bruised torso ached at the movement but he scrambled up and got out of the hallway.

He crouched just inside a nearby open door while making relatively little noise. He felt awkward and unbalanced but was too focused on the hallway to determine why. He peered out as best he could from the shadows and was able to just make out wooden shrapnel scattered across the floor and a huge hole in the door. He realized belatedly that they had shot through the door with a shotgun, and what he'd seen had been the shrapnel from the door.

"Did you get him?" a voice asked quietly.

Boyd saw a man with dark skin appear in the hole, looking around. "Well," he said, looking down at the floor, "there's some blood."

Boyd looked down in surprise, and noticed one black-clad thigh was shining wetly in the dim light. His eyes narrowed and he pressed down on it immediately, checking for the extent of the injury.

Judging by the fact that he could still place his weight on it, most of it was probably superficial. Still, it had cut deep enough for him to bleed which meant it could compromise him in some fashion. And he could have left a trail of blood straight to his location.

He looked around but there was no other exit in the room. He'd been lucky to find cover at all so quickly. And he couldn't shut the door without bringing attention to himself.
The door opened down the way and the dark-complexioned man stepped calmly into the hallway. His hair was in cornrows and held back by a white band in back. Boyd recognized him as Daniel Jones, the second in command of 53.

Andrews appeared beside him. He looked exactly as he had in the stat file: smooth, dark caramel skin and black hair in loose waves. He was holding what appeared to be a hunting knife. "Don't let him get away."

Boyd knew it was only a matter of time before they found him. He was barely a few feet away and this was the first place they would look. His face set grimly and he let out a low, silent breath. He thought quickly, then reached into his pocket and pulled out what he needed. Jones had a gun but Andrews only had a knife.

He waited just long enough for the footsteps he heard to draw up alongside the room he hid in. Before Jones could look around the corner, Boyd threw a small round pellet out into the hallway and looked away with his eyes squeezed shut.

He heard Jones say, "What--?" before the pellet hit the ground and released a bright flash of light that would briefly blind anyone watching.
Jones let out a startled yell and Boyd used the distraction to scramble into the hallway. Momentarily blinded, Jones didn't even notice Boyd in front of him before Boyd slammed into the other man. A shot went off, embedding into the ceiling and the gun clattered to the floor. Boyd ran, swiping the gun from the floor as he passed so no one would use it against him.
In the same movement he pulled his tonfa out and slammed it against Andrews' machete. The knife slipped from Andrews' fingers and hit the floor. Boyd was there within a second, stopping just behind and to the side of Andrews as he held the cocked gun against his head. He had to put the tonfa away so he would have a free hand to deal with Andrews.

"Believe it or not," Boyd said calmly, trying to control his breath as he caught it. "I'm here to negotiate. Call off any reinforcements you have coming and this doesn't have to get any messier."

Andrews held his hands up, staying very still. He said nothing at first, and Boyd pushed the gun against his head. He grabbed Andrews' arm and started to drag him back toward the room with the broken door.

"Call them off," he repeated as an order.

There was another hesitation as Andrews and Jones locked eyes.

"You won't get out of here alive," Jones said, dark eyes narrowed into slits.

"Let me worry about that," Boyd said unconcernedly. "You call everyone off." He shoved the gun harder against Andrews' temple, his expression deadly serious. "I'd rather not kill him but I will."

There was another beat of silence and it was clear that Andrews didn't want to give the order.

"Stop stalling," Boyd warned dangerously but it was too late.

He could hear footsteps echoing in the distance so he yanked Andrews back with him. He didn't have a good plan but he did know of a possible escape route through the back hallway. If nothing else, he could run with Andrews and hide in a room somewhere.

He could try to run from the bunker with Andrews but that would be nearly impossible, especially with the place on high alert. The only choice he really had was to flee with the man and try to convince him to call off the search.

Jones watched Boyd sharply as he pulled Andrews back with him. Boyd knew he had to do something about the man. If he didn't, Jones could just follow them and tell the reinforcements exactly where to look.
Boyd turned the gun on Jones, planning to shoot him quickly. That quick shift was all Andrews needed.

Andrews twisted and grabbed Boyd's arm, slamming it away from him. Boyd started to jerk away, reaching for his tonfa, but Andrews was fast and efficient. Within the space of a second, Andrews had forced Boyd's hand at an angle where it was impossible to hold anything. The gun slipped from Boyd's suddenly nerveless fingers.

So fast that it practically happened at the same time, Jones was on Boyd, using Andrews as a distraction while he snatched the tonfa from Boyd's waist. Boyd jerked his hand from Andrews' hold and turned his attention on Jones. But the two of them were not at the head of a rebel faction for no reason; they'd obviously fought together in the past.

They moved in tandem so quickly that Boyd didn't have a chance. He was slammed back and hit the floor hard, trying to scramble back to a stand. Jones violently yanked Boyd back to his feet and pulled his arms behind him.

Within seconds, Boyd went from being in control to being the one with the gun aimed at him. Jones held him securely from behind, nearly cutting off Boyd's blood circulation. Before Boyd could take any other course of action, the hallway filled with hostiles and he found himself surrounded.

"Search him," Andrews ordered one of the hostiles who'd arrived as reinforcement.

Although Boyd jerked and twisted and attempted to kick the man away, his weapons were ultimately taken from him. The man stepped back with them in hand, getting well out of Boyd's reach and back into the protection of the circle of men with guns.

Seeing that Boyd was disarmed and surrounded, Jones let go of Boyd and stepped back over to Andrews' side. Boyd saw Jones sliding the gun back into his holster.

Boyd straightened, his eyes narrowing as he took them in. He didn't see an opening and there were enough of them that there was no chance of escape. The hostiles were armed and Andrews' aim didn't waver from his head. They'd been thorough enough to find all his weapons and there was no way he could fight all of the men at once.

After looking around and seeing no immediate solution, Boyd's even gaze slid back to meet Andrews' eyes. He kept his arms loose at his sides and paid attention to his surroundings in case an opportunity to escape or flip the situation would present itself.

"I take it you're the one who's been causing so much trouble lately," Andrews said conversationally, casting his eyes around at his men before finally resting them on Boyd.

"Trouble?" Boyd echoed, as if he had no idea what he was talking about. "Have you been having problems?"

Jones turned slightly away and said something into his radio but it was too low to be heard over the din of noise that had been created by their reinforcements. Andrews didn't look over, keeping his eyes locked with Boyd. He didn't seem particularly impressed by Boyd's denial.