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“You’ve been incredibly helpful,” said Ghost. “Thank you.”
“You wanna thank me?” smirked the young man. “Help me pull up this nasty carpet.”
“Son, if I thought I wouldn’t vomit, I’d be happy to help you. But I think I’d make a bigger mess than you want. A little pro-tip for you, though,” said Ghost. “Put a little menthol beneath your nose. You know, like the stuff you put on your chest for a cold. It’ll ensure that all you smell is that.”
“Hey, that’s a great idea! I’ll go across the street and grab some now. Thanks, mister.”
“Pro-tip?” frowned Gaspar. “Brother, we did that to not smell the burning bodies in a war zone.” Ghost looked at him.
“What the hell would you call this?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“Hoooo-leeee shit,” muttered Pork, staring at the massive crater where the labs once stood.
“I’m impressed,” nodded Miller. Baptiste and Pork turned, glaring at him. “What? This is impressive. You’d need to know how to make this thing blow like this. They blew it inward, imploding it, while ensuring they destroyed the cars as well.”
“Let’s see if the cops will tell us anything,” said Baptiste. He walked toward a small group of them, apparently not too worried about the building. They were shooting the shit, talking about the game this weekend. As he got to work asking questions, Miller and Pork slowly walked the perimeter.
“I don’t see anyone alive,” said Pork.
“Me either,” said Miller.
“Miller? Pork? You copy?” asked Code.
“We copy,” said Miller. “What do you have?”
“Southeast Testing had some sophisticated equipment. Their cameras uploaded the feeds to the cloud every eight seconds. I’ve wiped you out, by the way.”
“Thanks,” smirked Pork.
“Anyway, twelve minutes after the three of you left, a dark sedan pulled up, and a woman got out. Dr. Marks. She was carrying a small satchel, not a briefcase, but not a suitcase either.”
“Code, is this important?” growled Miller.
“Yes, you old curmudgeon, it’s important.” Miller frowned, mouthing the word to Pork, who just shook his head. “She walked in with the satchel, but she didn’t walk out with it. She was inside the building for nine minutes. But here’s the interesting thing. The security team didn’t stop her at the door. She was allowed to just walk through.”
“Shit. She’s been here before. She’s been here a lot,” said Pork. “Enough that they didn’t care about making her go through the security screening equipment with a satchel.”
“Code, is there any record of her working for Southeast or being on the staff?” asked Miller.
“I’m checking on it right now. What would help us is if you can find someone alive in that mess.”
“Thanks, Code. And I’m not a curmudgeon.”
“Are too.”
Baptiste walked toward them, shaking his head.
“No one saw anything, but then again, there’s no one left to see anything. They’re all gone. Cops aren’t going near the mess until the fire department and hazmat teams clear the area.”
“Code got into their security system,” whispered Miller. “He wiped out our visit, but what he got very clearly was Dr. Marks walking in with her satchel but walking out without it.”
They heard commotion behind them, EMTs running toward the rubble as police held everyone back. Walking toward the firefighters, Pork spoke to them.
“What do you have?” he asked authoritatively.
“Someone alive. Barely, but he’s alive.” Looking over his shoulder, they didn’t recognize the man. Miller whispered to the firefighter, and he nodded, allowing him to go through, waving at his colleagues that it was okay.
