Endworlds - Nicholas Read [46]
“Sure, nobody will be able to see us, and the inside cameras will only record what looks like ripples if anyone’s watching closely enough,” she said, “But that won’t help us get past these external security barriers.”
Eastwood simply shrugged. “I don’t know. I just have this feeling that once we’re in, everything will work out.”
Lion frowned. “Gosh, golly gee,” he mocked. “That’s real reassuring, Eastwood.”
The younger boy looked up at him. “No? Neither is the existence of Longcoats, something called the Cassandra Foundation, predators from other dimensions, and you telling me that the world is coming to an end in 2012. But you guys believe in all that and are dealing with it. I figure you can believe in me for a moment.”
The group leader and his companions exchanged glances. Jax nodded, then Tucker. Castle half patted, half wiped his hand down Eastwood’s shoulder as he rejoined the group from the shrubs. “I’m in,” he grinned.
Lion looked back at their young ward. “You worry me, Eastwood. I have enough worries. But Monarch says the Foundation tells us to not look a gift horse in the mouth and to use any tools that come our way.”
Eastwood listened quietly, not in the least offended by being referred to as a tool.
“So we’re going to take this as far as we can.” He nodded at the building across the road. “You say you can get us inside. You say that once inside you know about devices that might be of use to us, though you have no idea what or where they are. Okay, I hope this factory makes more than cream biscuits, because we couldn’t find this place mentioned anywhere. That’s probably reason enough to go in.” He paused a moment. “You really better know what you’re doing.”
Lion’s eyes never left Eastwood’s as he toggled a stud on his cuff and instructed the team to turn on their shoulder microcams to record the mission. In an instant a flexible metallic cowl snapped up from his collar to enshroud his head. From under his sleeves, row upon row of the same material knitted downwards to cover his hands like a glove. He vanished from sight as the pin cameras on the far side of his outfit projected what they saw to pixels on the near side.
The other Longcoats activated their own invisoflage, then all triggered the rings around their ankles. As Mercury Boots lifted them all a foot into the air, they angled their ankles forward and moved silently across the grassy expanse, never coming close to tripping the pressure plates or the shin-level laser beams. Although their visors revealed each other as blue shades, to the dozens of camera sentries they were completely invisible.
Past the grass they arrived at a double line of three-meter high chain-link fences topped with spiraling spikes. Through the channel ran a single cord that on contact would send an alarm to the complex’s central security node. The fences were too high for their Mercury Boots to hop. Connecting the two fences was a chain-link passage with an automated access gate at each end that led to a forecourt beyond. The electronics could not be bribed: no prison boasted greater security.
Alighting on a concrete drainage tube that bordered the field, the team hung back as Eastwood approached the first gate. When he pressed the request panel the central gate immediately lit up like noonday under a dozen halogen suns. Even though they were invisible, his companions flinched at the sudden eruption of light. In contrast the younger boy waited patiently as his hand was scanned and the first gate slid aside.
“Hurry!” he told them as he raced through.
Before they caught up he slapped his open palm against the next gate’s sensor panel. There was a brief pause. Then the interior gate opened as the one they had