“Come on,” he whispered to his friends, stepping out into the wider alley. Bryson took over from there, leading them to the back door of Kaine’s building, the one he said he’d been able to unlock. It was a simple metal door with a silver latch for a handle. Three cement steps, cracked and worn, led to the entrance. Bryson pressed his back against the outer wall right next to the stairs, and Michael and Sarah lined up beside him. Michael fingered the hard edges of the Lance in his shoulder bag, eager to use the thing.
“Should we try to code in weapons?” Sarah asked. “Who knows what’s waiting in there?”
“It won’t work,” Michael said, and he knew that despite the suggestion, Sarah already knew they couldn’t. They’d had a hard enough time Squeezing themselves into the Deep; there was no way they could risk trying to bring something else in. “Use your fists and elbows, and if they shoot bullets, lasers, or bombs, duck.”
“Thanks,” Sarah responded. “Helpful.”
“Nothin’ to do but go in,” Bryson said, his chest puffing up with deep breaths that he blew out far too noisily. He gave a stiff nod to Michael and Sarah then pushed himself away from the wall and quickly moved toward the steps, ran up them. Sarah was next, then Michael, waiting right at the bottom. He watched as Bryson lifted the latch, hesitating just a second before doing so. It clicked and the door popped open.
All three of them froze, expecting some monstrous beast to emerge, roaring, ready to suck the lives out of them. But nothing happened. Michael leaned over to see a line of darkness where the door stood ajar. With a pang in his heart, he remembered a joke Helga had once told him, when he was a little boy.
When’s a door not a door? she’d said in her thick accent.
When? he’d asked
When it’s ajar.
He’d loved her, just as much as he loved his parents. And Kaine had taken that away from him.
“Let’s go!” he whispered fiercely. “Now!”
Bryson tore the door open and the three of them slipped inside.
They entered a room that looked like nothing more than a storage area—big and dusty and full of boxes, mostly on warped shelves that sagged in the middle. A lot of the stuff looked mechanical—wires and pieces of metal and exposed circuit boards. For the few seconds it took to cross the room, Michael admired the almost perfect programming of the Deep once again. Crisp and real, even in its deteriorated parts.
But they didn’t stop and stare. Sarah had her NetScreen on, a map and schematics of the building glowing brightly before her.
“No sign of people,” she said, right before stepping into a long, dark hallway. “Anywhere. At least according to the heat sigs.”
“Are we sure this isn’t too easy?” Bryson responded. “I’m getting nervous.”
“Getting?” was all Michael would say to that. “Come on, Sarah, lead us to the mainframe. Or whatever his programming looks like here.” His finger itched on the surface of the bag, as if there were a trigger there that he could pull at any second.
“It’s on the top floor,” Sarah said. “In a column at the center of the building—looks like it goes down the entire length of the building, even into the basement, but the easiest way to access it is from above. Like a silo. I can’t really tell what it looks like.”
It sounded strange to Michael—but it didn’t matter. They’d come this far, and all they could do was move forward.
“The stairs,” Sarah said, suddenly bolting forward, down the hallway.
Michael was at her heels, Bryson right next to him. They turned a corner and ran into another dimly lit hall. Sarah stopped at the first door and opened it, went through. A stairwell. They started up, running, skipping every other step when they could. So far, no one had made an appearance. All Michael could hear was their own footsteps. If there’d been guards, they would’ve been on top of them by now—there was no doubt in Michael’s mind.
So, no guards.
Which meant there was probably something worse once they got to where they were going. He remembered the KillSim’s mouth, its jaws, its breath, its terrifying digital growl. He put it out of his mind and climbed.
Second floor, third floor. Another set of steps led to a roof, but instead of climbing, Sarah opened the door to the top floor and they stepped into a hallway. She had her NetScreen on, brightness up all the way, map shining. Down one hall into the next. Turn, then turn again. Still no sign of people. Still no sounds but their own. Michael studied the ceilings, the walls, the corners, searching for anything suspicious, but there was nothing. The building was like any other he’d set foot in.
Sarah stopped at a big metal door that appeared to be slightly newer than anything else. She yanked on the lever and the heavy thing swung open—Bryson had done his job well. A bluish light spilled into the hallway, pulsing like a heartbeat, and for the first time, they heard noise. A deep, mechanical growl that throbbed along with the light, keeping the same rhythm.