Chapter Twenty-Three

Thunder had prepared himself for a tough trip. When the helicopter crashed, there was only ocean underneath him, and he managed to make a safe exit into the water. He dove beneath the waves and felt the sea rush over his head. As his descent slowed down, he began swimming to the surface until he emerged from the ocean and breathed in great gasps of air. The helicopter wreckage burned about fifty yards away, a distance far enough to be safe from any errant explosions but small enough so he knew he was lucky to be alive.

He could see a green stripe of coastline on the horizon. Thunder hadn’t had many chances to swim before, but he found that his body had the correct movements stored into muscle memory. He started moving for land, slowly but steadily.

Once Thunder got out of the water, he stayed out of sight while navigating to the Center for Pure Science. Standing in a tree line that surrounded the building, he shuddered as he realized how much it reminded him of Cyborg Sector. The two edifices had probably been designed by the same architect favoring cold, modern appearances that intimidated anyone who looked at them.

He analyzed the Center for weaknesses and exits, finding that it wasn’t as secure as either Cyborg Sector or the holding facility in New York. The people running this place were confident enough in their security that they had not bothered to build a fortress.

Thunder wondered if Savage was following him. He had been furious when Thunder defied his orders.

Thunder had only survived by luck. He couldn’t return to the island. If he and Melissa survived, they would need to find somewhere else to live.

It wouldn’t be as easy as finding the entrance, running into the building, and leaving with his woman. Extracting Melissa would be complicated, but Thunder would have to play it by ear. In a typical operation, specialists would provide him with crucial information like floor plans and guard schedules. Sometimes electronic specialists could hack into the security system, turning off alarms and changing security footage.

He couldn’t rely on other cyborgs this time. If he tried to access the systems on his own, Purity Force would track him down in an instant.

Spotting an entrance that looked rarely used at the back of the building, Thunder decided to take a chance. It was a plain metal door painted brown. A dumpster sat nearby. It didn’t look like doctors or scientists typically came this way, and he didn’t think it was well guarded.

Looking down at himself, the cyborg wondered if he could have done a better job at disguise. He wore a black t-shirt, cargo khakis, and boots. The entire outfit made him look like someone ready for combat. He couldn’t control his body size, which suggested he was a cyborg. The bruises covering his face and body indicated he had recently been on the wrong side of things. Even if Purity Force didn’t know his name, they might easily guess he was a cyborg on the run.

Using trees for cover, Thunder kept watching the entire building. He waited for someone to look out of a window and sound an alarm, or for a guard to patrol the perimeter and spot him. No one was looking for him, and he decided to move while he had a chance. He ran over the small lawn that surrounded the building and was in front of the door in a few seconds.

Thunder opened it by slamming the lock with his fist. If any guards were waiting for him, he wanted to have the element of surprise. The only person in the dimly lit room was a stout orderly loading sheets into a washing machine. He looked up in surprise that quickly turned into fear and ran toward a nearby stairway leading to a door.

The cyborg raced forward and had the man in his hands before he could place one foot on the bottom step. He yanked him back and threw him to the floor, waiting for the man to put up a fight or call for backup. But the orderly cowered on the concrete with his hands over his face.

“Take off your clothes.”

The white scrubs were too tight to fit Thunder correctly, but they would do the job. His biceps bulged against the hem of the sleeves, and the pants were a couple of inches too short. With luck, the disguise would help him get further into the building. He secured the sniveling, whimpering orderly into a supply closet.

Sneaking his head out the door to the laundry room, Thunder was relieved to see that the place was practically deserted. He watched a nurse at a station at the far end of the hall hang up the phone and leave the desk, disappearing into a nearby restroom. Thunder headed for her post.

He glanced at the restroom door before connecting with the computer on the desk. He was fully prepared to kill if he had to, but since there wasn’t any backup, he had to be careful. Thunder didn’t want too many people to know about his presence in the building. It didn’t take long to get Melissa’s location from the computer system. Now he had to find the room.

Thunder hadn’t spent much time in human structures before. When he went overseas on missions for Cyborg Sector, he was almost always outside or in a vehicle. Still, he had found a schematic of the building and calculated a path to Melissa. He hurried down a nearby staircase, watching the signs on the walls as he descended.

When he reached the prison level, Thunder braced himself. The door was locked. It had only been through luck and staff incompetence that he had made it down here. Getting to Melissa herself might not going be as easy. He raised his hand and knocked on the door.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got clean linens,” Thunder said slowly.

“Don’t you people talk to each other? It’s not time yet. Tommy brought some down this morning.”

“I’m just following instructions.” Thunder took a deep breath as he heard the hard click of the bolt unlocking.

“Did he give you a written order? Because I’m not going to be responsible for more dirty sheets.” As the door opened, the guard on the other side took in the sight of the hulking cyborg in the stairwell, dropped his jaw in disbelief, and raised his gun.

The cyborg knocked it out of his hands and shoved his elbow into the man’s face. The guard fell back with a crunch as a second human appeared. He yelled at Thunder to stand down, but his shouting stopped when the flat of the cyborg’s palm shoved the man’s nose up into his skull.

Grabbing the guard’s gun and slipping it into the back of his waistband, Thunder ran down the long hallways of the prison level, glancing from side to side as he searched for Melissa. There were many cells, but most of them were empty, barren rooms that hinted at the isolation of their past tenants.

Two more guards turned the corner in front of him, and Thunder slowed to a walk. The humans were talking to each other and hadn’t heard the noise from the fight.

“I told her I wasn’t going to buy her flowers anymore if she was going to be like that. I guess she didn’t want the flowers, after all. Before I knew it, she throwing my clothes onto the street!” The guard speaking was short, fat and had a large belly.

A taller, skinnier guard shook his head. “You’re better off without her.”

Thunder strolled toward them, keeping to the side of the hallway. He didn’t have an accurate count of the number of men that were down here, but it would be best if he could take them down one at a time. If he made it past these two, they wouldn’t have a reason to sound the alarm.

As soon as the shorter guard saw Thunder, he stopped his companion and looked Thunder up and down. “Check out the ape they hired, Bobby. He’s so big that he doesn’t fit into regular clothes. What are you doing down here, lunkhead? Did you lose your way to the laundry room? Or are you not smart enough to shake sheets?”

Thunder easily overcame the guards. Two fast punches left the heavy man slumped against the wall. Thunder put the skinny one in a headlock, cutting off his air supply. “Tell me where Melissa Quinn is,” he demanded in a harsh whisper.

The guard choked and gasped but managed to point his finger at a bend in the hallway. “She’s in the last one on the right,” he gasped.

“Thank you for your cooperation.” Thunder snapped his neck by twisting his head and let the body fall to the floor.

When he reached the location, it was empty. His vision went crimson with rage. Had the guard lied to him? The computer had indicated Melissa was here, so how could he find her now? Quickly checking the remaining empty cells, he ran back to the stairs.

Thunder’s brain started working in overdrive as he flew back toward the upper levels. Was Melissa still their captive or had they released her? If they had killed her, he would murder every person who worked here without questioning them. He would even take care of the pathetic orderly down in the laundry room.

He spotted a small plaque near a massive wooden door that read “Director Sullivan.” He instantly recognized the name from the newscast. If anyone knew where Melissa was, it was him.

Thunder glanced over his shoulder. The nurse had returned to the station but was reviewing some paperwork. Another orderly stood at the opposite end of the hall in front of a vending machine, fishing cash out of his pocket. If he moved now, no one would notice him.

He slipped through the office door. The room was opulent, with wood paneled walls and marble floors. A dark oak desk sat at the far end. The man behind it was someone Thunder recognized from television. The human didn’t bother to look up at the sound of a cyborg entering the room.

“I said that I didn’t want to be disturbed for the rest of the afternoon unless someone verified Ms. Quinn’s claims.” Director Sullivan signed a piece of paper, set it aside, and began reading the next one.

“I’m here about a laundry order,” Thunder replied.

The older man looked up with anger blazing in his eyes, but it quickly faded to confusion. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Orderlies are not supposed to speak with me directly.”

Thunder approached the desk and wrapped his hands around Sullivan’s throat with so much force that the chair rolled back and hit the paneled wall. The cyborg moved with them, unwilling to let go of his catch. “I want to know one thing. Where is Melissa Quinn?”

The director sputtered. His face turned purple, and his eyes blinked rapidly. “Who are you?” he wheezed. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

“I’m a cyborg, if that’s what you mean. And I want Melissa back.”

Sullivan laughed. “She sold you out already.” His legs helplessly kicked as he fought for breath. “She told me everything she knew about you. And do you know what she wanted in exchange? Food and clothing. She doesn’t give a shit about you.”

“I’ll see what she says myself.” Thunder pressed his thumbs harder against the man’s windpipe. “Tell me where she is.”

The director tried to pull Thunder’s hands away, but his fat fingers were only good for pointing at things. “You have to let me go first.”

“Fine.” Thunder yanked his hands back.

Without having the cyborg to help hold him, the old man crumpled to the floor. He rubbed his neck gingerly. “She’s in room 2B. It’s upstairs. There are guards, though. You’ll never get her out of here. Not alive, anyway.”

“It won’t matter if there are a hundred guards.” Thunder raised his knee and brought his boot down swiftly, crushing Sullivan’s windpipe.