Free Virus Attack by Andy Briggs Page A

chime came from the craft’s PA system and the unseen pilot alerted them that the penitentiary was just ahead and they had been cleared for landing. Lorna and Pete cupped their hands around the portholes. Through the rain-lashed glass, they could just see lights as they circled the island.
    â€œJust for once I’d like to go somewhere that’s hot,” grumbled Lorna.
    The tilt-rotor aircraft rotated, the twin engines gracefully angling into a vertical position so that it could descend onto the raised helicopter pad.
    Inside the sound-dampened aircraft, nobody could hear the sudden warbling alarm echo across the island. Nor did they see the energy bolt rip out from ground level and destroy the starboard wing in a massive orange ball.
    Toby ducked in shock as the wing next to him exploded in a massive fireball. Shrapnel smashed against the fuselage, shattering windows and tearing huge holes in the body—inches from Toby’s head. Theentire aircraft lurched ninety degrees to the side and dropped like a stone.
    Cellblock H261 was an ultra-high-security wing designed for solitary confinement and built in the center of the island. Branching corridors radiated out in a starlike pattern from the central security hub, which was only approachable by an underground guard hut that boasted over twenty separate security checks.
    Trojan bypassed it all as she stepped out of the wall and into the middle of the long sterile white corridor. Her huge cloak billowed impossibly large, revealing Basilisk and Worm walking out of the material as though they had simply strolled through a tunnel. Which, in a manner of speaking, they had.
    Trojan had tried to explain that her supergift was nothing as primitive as teleportation but involved quantum tunneling; just as Worm burrowed through the ground from one point to another, she could burrow a short distance through space. Worm nodded in understanding, although her babbling was as clear to him as Basilisk trying to explain the Internet. How much simpler life was in the forties, he mused. People only had war to contend with.
    Basilisk’s cane clicked on the smooth metal floor as he led them down a corridor that had nothing otherthan a pair of security cameras in it. The architects had not thought anybody could get this far without triggering an alarm. At the end of the corridor was a lone door—Cell G. Basilisk knew that beyond the door there was a nullification field that would render their powers useless if they entered the cell, so even Trojan couldn’t simply walk in and whisk their prize away, since she would be trapped too. They had to get through that door and retain their powers. He turned to Worm.
    â€œOkay, your turn.”
    â€œMe? How can I get through that?”
    Basilisk pointed to an electronic keypad at the side of the door. “Simple. Just worm your way into it.”
    Worm pressed his hands against the panel and allowed his fingertips to atomize and burrow into the pad’s components. He closed his eyes, wincing at the pinprick sensations stabbing his fingers as he sensed every twist of wire or logical gate in the electronic processors. It seemed as though he was picking an old-fashioned combination lock blindfolded—except the combinations were digital. He didn’t even have to try to calculate the complex codes, which could have taken months. He simply willed his probing atoms to pass through like water along an aqueduct. The lock bleeped, and after several seconds a loud clunk from within the fortified door signaled that the heavy mechanical bars had unlocked.
    With a hiss, the vacuum-sealed door swung back on hydraulic rams. The chamber was circular, lit only by a single recessed light. A solid steel block with a thin mattress formed a bed. No need for blankets, as the room was climate controlled. A young man sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the new arrivals.
    â€œGreetings,” said Basilisk.
    â€œThis is him?”