The Infinite Loop : Last Stand at Zeytinli

Chapter 5 The Zero Percent Reality part 2

"Come on," he whispered, his eyes fixed on the bar.

Suddenly, the entire building shook. A deep, low-frequency hum vibrated through the structure. It wasn't an earthquake. It was the sound of the atmosphere being shredded by the initial wave of the QX-7.

Baran looked out the concrete aperture of the garage. The sky was turning a sickly shade of violet.

His phone began to ring. It wasn't the distorted voice. It was Selin.

He stared at the screen. She was screaming in the background, her voice drowned out by the sound of sirens and breaking glass. He didn't answer. He let it ring, watching the final transfer indicator tick toward one hundred percent.

The screen blinked. Assets Secured.

He sat back, exhausted. He had the gold, he had the winning numbers, and he had the knowledge. But as he looked back down at the city, he saw the first drops of black, viscous rain hitting the windshield of a car three stories down.

The car began to hiss and smoke. The metal started to dissolve.

Baran looked at his own vehicle, then at the garage exit. He was trapped. The downpour was getting heavier, and the toxic slurry was already pooling on the lower levels.

He turned his attention back to the screen and opened a new file. It was the blueprint for the Zeytinli bunker. He began to modify the design, deleting the southern vents and re-routing the intake to the northern cliffside.

He had to get back to the villa. He had to reach the bunker before the rain made the roads impassable.

He stood up, grabbed his bag, and walked toward the stairwell. He needed to find a way to navigate the city without exposing himself to the downpour.

As he stepped into the stairwell, he heard a sound. It was the click of a hammer being pulled back on a pistol, echoing from the darkness just one flight of stairs above him.

"Don't move, Demirci," a voice commanded from the shadows. "We have the account keys. You are going to give us the gold, or we leave you here for the rain."

Baran stood perfectly still, his heart rate slowing to a rhythmic, steady cadence. He recognized the voice. It was Tolga.

"You think you can handle those keys, Tolga?" Baran asked, his voice low and calm. "You do not even know what you are stealing."

"I know enough," Tolga stepped into the dim light of the stairwell, his face pale and sweating. "Selin told me everything. You are a dead man anyway. Give me the drive."

Baran looked at him. He saw the tremor in Tolga’s hand. He saw the desperation in his eyes.

"You want the gold?" Baran reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, metallic drive. He held it out, his fingers pinching the edge. "Come and take it."

Tolga stepped closer, his pistol trained on Baran’s chest. He reached out with his free hand, his greed overcoming his caution.

"You are stupid," Tolga spat. "Just like you were the last time."

Baran waited until Tolga’s fingers were inches away. Then, he didn't give him the drive. He threw a handful of metallic shards he had been palming directly into Tolga’s eyes.

As Tolga screamed and recoiled, Baran lunged, slamming his palm into the man’s throat and stripping the gun from his grip. He didn't hesitate. He swung the weapon hard against Tolga’s temple, knocking him flat against the concrete stairs.

Tolga rolled down the steps, his body hitting the landing with a wet, heavy thud.

Baran stood over him for a second, then checked the gun. It was empty. The chamber was dry.

He looked at the unconscious man. He had defeated the man who had replaced him, but he still had no way out of the building. The rain was turning into a torrential downpour, and the sound of sizzling metal was growing louder.

He ran down the stairs, ignoring the burning smell of the encroaching poison. He reached the bottom floor and burst through the door, only to find the entire ground level flooded with the black, bubbling sludge.

He was trapped in the garage.

He scanned the area for a way across the floor. His eyes caught sight of a heavy industrial cart, its wheels reinforced with acid-resistant coating.

He pushed it forward, hopping onto the platform, and began to row his way through the center of the toxic lake using a discarded metal pole. The acid splashed against the side of the cart, sizzling aggressively.

He reached the far side of the garage, where the service tunnel connected to the city sewer system. It was his only remaining path.

He kicked the grate open and dove into the tunnel, the smell of damp earth and rot filling his lungs. He crawled forward, his flashlight flickering. He was moving deeper into the dark, away from the city, and toward the only place that could save him.

But as he emerged from the drainage pipe onto the edge of the industrial district, he stopped.

The sky had turned entirely black. The rain was falling in sheets of dark, shimmering acid. And standing in the middle of the road, directly in the path he needed to take to reach the villa, was a group of armored mercenaries holding the perimeter of the Zeytinli zone.

Baran crouched behind a pile of rusted metal containers, watching them. They were scanning the area with infrared sensors. They were looking for someone.

He realized he didn't just have to get back to the villa. He had to retake it.

He checked his bag. He had a signal jammer, a few basic tools, and the digital keys to the villa’s external defense grid.

He waited for the patrol to pass, then moved silently through the dark, keeping his body low to the ground. He reached the rear fence of the Zeytinli perimeter. He climbed, his skin burning as a droplet of the black rain touched his shoulder.

He ignored the pain. He reached the top and dropped onto the other side, finding himself standing in his own backyard.

The villa was dark. The power was still out.

He crept toward the entrance, his footsteps silent on the damp grass. He reached the keypad, his fingers trembling with cold, and punched in the override code.

The door hissed open.

He stepped inside, his hand hovering over the knife he had pulled from his bag. He moved through the living room, sensing that he was not alone.

"I knew you would come back," a voice said from the shadows of the dining room.

Baran turned. Selin was sitting at the head of the table, holding a small, silver pistol. She looked disheveled, her clothes stained with soot, but her eyes were cold and sharp.

"You are going to open the vault, Baran," she said. "And then you are going to leave. I don't care where you go. Just leave."

Baran walked toward her, not stopping. "The vault is locked, Selin. And the code is gone."

She stood up, her hand shaking. "You are lying. You would never destroy the only thing that can keep us alive."

"I am not lying," Baran said, stopping three feet in front of her. "I have no reason to keep you alive. And I have no reason to share the bunker."

"You are my husband," she hissed, pointing the gun at his heart. "You belong to me."

Baran looked at her, then down at the table. He saw the remnants of a meal they had shared just hours before. The world outside was dissolving into hell, and all she cared about was the inheritance.

"I have no wife," Baran said, his voice flat. "And you have no husband."

He reached out and grabbed the barrel of the gun, twisting it with a quick, brutal motion. She screamed, but he pushed her aside, pinning her against the wall.

"Where is the boy?" he asked, his voice low.

"He is with my parents," she gasped, struggling against his grip. "They are in the cellar. They are waiting for you to unlock the door."

Baran looked toward the basement door. He knew what was waiting for him down there. He had built the cellar to withstand a direct hit, not to house thieves.

He released her and walked toward the basement, his heart beating in a slow, steady rhythm. He had to clear the house. He had to secure the bunker.

He kicked the basement door open, and the lights—triggered by his presence—flickered on.

Murat was standing at the bottom of the stairs, a heavy iron bar in his hand. Emre was slumped in the corner, and Kaan was sitting on a pile of boxes, looking terrified.

"You traitor," Murat roared, charging up the stairs.

Baran stepped aside, tripped him, and sent him tumbling back down to the floor. He didn't wait. He moved down the stairs, his eyes locked on the control panel at the back of the cellar.

He needed to engage the internal lock.

"Stop him!" Selin screamed from the hallway above.

Baran slammed his hand onto the panel, activating the emergency lockdown. A heavy steel door slid out from the wall, sealing the basement off from the rest of the house.

He looked at Kaan. The boy was crying, his face buried in his hands.

Baran walked over to him, his face softening. He knelt down, his hand resting on the boy’s shoulder.

"You are not my son," he said, his voice quiet. "But you are not responsible for their greed."

He stood up and walked to the storage rack, pulling out a heavy, protective suit and a pressurized helmet. He threw them at the boy.

"Put these on," Baran ordered. "And stay in the corner. Whatever you hear, do not move."

He turned back to the cellar door. Murat was pounding on the steel, his voice muffled and desperate.

"Baran! Open this door! We can work this out!"

Baran turned his back on them. He walked to the center of the basement, where a small, circular hatch in the floor led to the primary bunker shaft.

He stepped onto the hatch, turned the wheel, and looked down into the darkness of his own design.

He had done everything right. He had sacrificed his life, his family, and his humanity to ensure he was the only one left standing when the rain stopped.

He began the descent, his hand on the ladder, his eyes fixed on the depth below.

He was almost there.

Suddenly, a loud, metallic clanging echoed from the main entrance of the house above. The mercenaries had broken through the front door.

He stopped, his hand gripping the rungs. He heard the sound of footsteps pounding on the floors above him, coming straight toward the basement.

He realized he hadn't just sealed himself in. He had trapped himself.

The mercenaries were above, his ex-wife was in the hallway, and the man who wasn't his son was sitting behind him in the cellar.

Baran looked up at the hatch. The steel door was rattling as the mercenaries began to cut through it with an industrial torch.

He had seconds before they blew the room apart.

He drew a deep breath, pulled a small explosive device from his bag, and attached it to the support beam of the hatch.

"Let them come," he whispered, his eyes cold.

He jumped down the shaft, pulling the trigger as he fell into the darkness.

A deafening roar erupted from above, and the entire basement collapsed into the void, sealing the shaft behind him as the flames of the explosion consumed the entrance to his sanctuary.

He hit the floor of the bunker, his body rolling into the shadows.

He was alone.

He stood up and looked around the concrete room. He had the supplies, he had the air, and he had the silence.

But as he turned toward the main control console, he noticed something strange.

The monitor was active. Someone was already inside the system.

A message blinked on the screen: Thank you for the fortification, Baran. We have been waiting for your arrival.

Baran stared at the screen, his mind going blank. He wasn't the only one in the bunker.

He heard a low, metallic scraping sound coming from behind the heavy shielding of the internal ventilation unit.

Someone was standing in the shadows of his own private haven.

"Who is there?" Baran asked, reaching for the empty holster at his side.

A figure stepped out from the darkness, wearing a suit that was exactly like the one Baran h

ad designed for himself.

The face was his own.

The figure looked at him, a cold, mocking smile spreading across its lips.

"You are not the only one who remembered," the other Baran said.