Synbat Read Free Page A

security clearance was, he was damn sure of one thing: Since no one had told him he had one, he assumed he didn't. He certainly didn't have a level four code word, which obviously meant that he wasn't supposed to open the inner containment door. Satisfied that he had done what he was supposed to do, Stan picked up his thermos to pour himself another cup of coffee and wait for the power company to get its act together.

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    Route 139, South of Cadiz, Kentucky
_3:47 A.M._

Parson pointed over his shoulder. "There's got to be a place open in Cadiz. We need to go back."

Chico shook his head, pivoting in his seat to look at the other two men crouched in the back. "Yeah, right. Use your fucking brains, asshole. We go to some Minit Mart there at four in the morning and you can be damn sure the state troopers are going to be there right after us asking if anyone seen anything. And then them guys are going to be right on our ass. We got some people we got to see down in Dover before we can head for Mexico. We got to get that money, and we can't have the law thinking we're still in the area."

Hill slammed a fist into the back of Chico's seat, his eyes glaring in the dim light of the dashboard. "Then your fucking sister should have put some goddamn gas in the motherfucking gas tank."

Chico glared back as the van rolled down Route 139 at a steady forty-five miles an hour. "We steal us a car."

Hill snorted. "Oh, yeah. That's fucking great, man. We'd be better off going back to Cadiz."

"Naw, man," Chico argued. "They won't be able to make the connection with the van and a stolen car. We'll be all right."

Hill pointed out the window at the dark countryside. "Where the hell we gonna steal a car out in this place?"

"There!" Leslie spoke for the first time, anxious to try to contribute something positive. If they stole a car then they could get out of her life and she could go back to Nashville. She'd been silent ever since Hill had noted the gas needle flirting with empty, less than five minutes after they'd passed through the deserted streets of Cadiz.

The three convicts leaned forward as she braked the truck. The headlights came to a halt, illuminating the sign and the driveway that turned off beyond it.

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    Biotech Engineering
_3:53 A.M._

Stan's attention was diverted from the glowing computer screen as a set of headlights carved into the darkness at the far end of the parking lot. About time the electric company got here, he thought as he hitched up his gun belt and strolled over to the front doors.

He frowned as the van pulled up next to his pickup truck and a man jumped out into the rain and started messing with his truck.

Stan unlocked the doors and stepped out under the front awning. "Hey! What are you doing?"

The voice startled Chico. The building had looked dark when they'd pulled in and he'd assumed that it was empty.

"Pull over to the building," he hissed at Leslie.

"Let's get out of here," she replied. Hill shoved her out of the driver's seat as Chico climbed in and picked up a tire iron.

"What'd you think you were doing?" Stan asked as they pulled up.

"Hey, man, I'm real sorry," Chico explained as he stepped out. "We're just about out of gas and, well, hey, there ain't no all-night stores on this road and I didn't want to run out before we got home."

Stan frowned, his eyes taking in the three disheveled men and the frightened woman. "You OK, miss?"

Leslie swallowed. "Yes, sir. I'm fine."

Stan stepped forward. "I got a can in the bed of my truck that I use for my boat. You can -- "

The tire iron crushed the right side of Stan's skull and he sank to his knees, his hand reflexively trying to go for his gun. Chico swung again and again, the iron splattering bone and blood onto the wet pavement. After fifteen blows, Chico stopped, his arms covered with gore and his face beaming with a smile below two blazing eyes.

"What the fuck you do that for?" Parson was blubbering as Hill