Love in an Undead Age by A.M. Geever (good non fiction books to read .TXT) 📕

be able to open the loading dock door. Instead, he entered a break room next to the exit. He hopped on a table near the wall and peered through the high window above.

Mario could see part of the rear parking lot from his vantage point since the ground sloped down from the window. His car was awash in a sea of flashing lights. He shrugged out of the carriers and his coat. His arm was not as bad as he’d feared, but he had to bind the wound—they’d bring dogs out to track him. He wrapped the scrubs top around his bicep and bound it tightly to his arm with the matching bottoms.

Mario shot the window twice, thankful that he had not lost the suppressor in his tumble down the laundry chute. The safety glass stayed in place, but spider webs of cracks radiated from the bullet holes. Three quick jabs of his elbow and the glass gave way. He shoved the carriers out. One caught a piece of glass stuck in the frame and fell back inside. Mario grabbed the carrier strap, then laid his coat over the window ledge. He was just about to holster his gun and hoist himself up when a voice called out.

“Freeze! Hands up now and turn around!”

Gently, Mario eased his pistol onto the window ledge. If he could turn fast enough…

“Move your hand away from the gun. Don’t try anything smart.”

Mario turned around. A glowing red bead from a gun sight appeared on his chest. Gus stood in the doorway.

“Mr. Santorello?” the old man asked, surprised. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The red bead on Mario’s chest barely moved. “I need you to do me a favor, Gus. I need you to turn around and pretend you never saw me.”

“What have you got in those carriers?” Gus demanded, but with less conviction. “Get down from there and let me see.”

“Let me go, Gus. No one has to know.”

“You just get down,” the old man said, but his voice was filled with uncertainty.

Slowly, Mario climbed down. He leaned against the table as if he favored one leg over the other.

“Walk over here to me.”

Mario took a step, then grunted with false pain. He leaned against the table once more. “I hurt my leg.”

Gus approached Mario cautiously. “Open that thing up,” he said, gesturing to the carrier in Mario’s hand.

Mario unzipped the carrier. Gus peered in, then looked up, his expression puzzled.

“Is that what I think it is? Why are you stealing from your own lab?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Mario said. “But if you don’t let me go, I’m a dead man.”

Gus smiled like a conspirator and Mario relaxed.

“You were a dead man the minute you walked through the door, Mr. Santorello.”

Mario stared at Gus, dumbfounded for a heartbeat. The old man who had been kind to him… Jesus! How could he have been so blind?

“You’re on the Council payroll.”

“It’s nothing personal, Mr. Santorello,” Gus said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “I never cared what you did; you were always good to me. But a fella has to take the opportunities that come his way.”

“I can protect you,” Mario said. “Just let me go.”

“And who would protect my family?” Gus asked. “No, I don’t think so, thanks all the same. I don’t know what you did, and I don’t want to. I didn’t even know it was you they wanted till now. The Council guys just said to look for anyone out of place.”

Mario slumped in defeat.

“You had a good run, son. Be content with that.”

Gus stepped closer and put his hand on Mario’s shoulder. The red bead on his chest slipped and Mario exploded to his feet. He barreled into Gus with his shoulder, knocking the old man back. He pressed forward and punched Gus in the throat, felt the windpipe crunch under his fist. The old man collapsed to the floor, his gun sliding from his nerveless fingers. A strangled wheeze added its high, thready pitch to the cacophony of alarms.

Mario re-zipped the carrier, then stooped to retrieve Gus’ gun and tucked it into the back of his waistband. Gus lay on the floor like the feeble old man he was. His mouth opened and closed like a fish on a creek bank, his face already turning blue.

“That was personal,” Mario said, but his words came out as a half-smothered sob.

Mario Santorello had been one of the most powerful men in the Valley, even with the hammer of a suspicious City Council hanging over him for so many years. He had played the role for so long that at times he feared he had become a soulless monster with not one true friend to his name. Now Gus lay on the floor in front of him, suffocating. Even he, the kindly half-friend of sorts, had been a lie.

Mario scrambled onto the table. He shoved his coat and the last carrier through the window, grabbed his pistol, and hoisted himself up. He squirmed through the mud outside, half-sliding down the small hill to retrieve the other carriers. Flickers of light from search parties setting out from the parking lot winked at him. He scurried back to the window, snatched his coat, and tossed it in the direction of the parking lot.

His hand wrapped tight around the carrier straps as he set out in the opposite direction, toward the eastern edge of the GeneSys campus. The sodden ground squelched underfoot in time with his pained breath as he ran into the rainy night.