Something zinged by my left ear, and a small twinge of pain flared in the earlobe.
Out of the shadows, the first line of defenses loomed, sharpened wooden logs Jamie had called ‘abatis’ hammered into the ground at an outward angle, with thickets of razor wire laced between them in rusted coils. It had been laid down in the initial days of the Breach attacks to stop mutants, the ground littered with eerie deformed bones, melted bits of scrap, and rotted wooden husks from various creatures that hadn’t made it past the barricade. The grass here grew stunted and thin, the soil tainted by numerous occasions when our rangers poured boiling water, flaming waste oil, or primitive wood-ash acid onto the nightmarish freaks. One cut from the nasty wire entanglements, or the splinter-ridden spikes, and I was looking at an infection, maybe even gangrene.
Ducking low behind one of the massive abatis logs, I scanned the deadly row for a gap, conscious of the blasts from rifle barrels not twenty feet above me.
If they fire a flare, I’ll be spotted for sure.
With my time running out, I relaxed my muscles, slowed each breath, and let the focus come as my eyes adjusted in the darkness.
Outlines hardened into visible objects, and despite the carnage of war flying around me, calm settled over my brain like a cool mist. I could see where a few rabbits had chewed on the weak blades of grass to my left, small trails where rats had scurried along the wall to my right, a few chips on a nearby bone from the talons of a hungry vulture in the center. Bits of skin hung from a section of razor wire, and my mind recognized it as Puppet flesh, though I couldn’t figure out how I knew. Every detail flooded in one-by-one, until my eyes fell on a cluster of abatis near the middle of the barricade.
The abatis were stuck in at pseudo-random, arranged in a way to prevent easy infiltration, but not in any kind of hard pattern, with three rows of logs. Near to me, a few of the logs had been knocked lower in their holes, likely by something heavy falling on them, and two had the sharp tips broken off. Whatever mutant had tried to cross here, it had been big, but for once a large monster attacking our fort had been a blessing in disguise.
Brushing some dirt from my clothes, I stood, and flexed both legs, heart racing in anticipation. Once in school, we’d ran hurtles in gym class on the track, and I’d been surprised to find myself rather good at clearing them. Carla had complained the entire time, and walked most of the class, but Coach Stevens praised me and suggested I try out for the school team. In spite of her encouragement, I never joined, since my chest tightened at the prospect of the world seeing me in the tight spandex shorts and low-cut tops of the team uniforms, but the memories of that day came back like a lightning bolt to my brain.
I backed away from the wire, gritted my teeth, and tensed for the sprint. If I missed one step, lost my balance, or didn’t gain enough speed going up the hill, I would plunge face-first into the wire and spikes. Every thrash, struggle, or squirm would only get me more entangled, until the wire was buried so deep in my flesh that it would have to be cut out just to free me, assuming I didn’t land squarely on a spike and get myself impaled.
It’s all about momentum. Three steps, and I’m through. I just can’t flinch.
The toe of my left shoe dug into the ground, and I bolted forward.
Steel wire rushed at me, and with all my might, I propelled my body off one leg, and into the air.
Time seemed to slow, and fear coursed through my mind. Had I judged the distance correctly? Was I really capable of doing this? How could I honestly expect to perform a precision cat-jump across three posts when I hadn’t leapt over a hurdle since senior year?
Wood slammed into the sole of my left sneaker, the rubber grabbing a tenuous hold on the smooth side of a toppled abatis, and I flung my right out so the inertia carried me into the sky again.
My right barely caught the top of the next broken log, and I leapt to the last row with a shaky, underpowered bounce.
I felt my left shoe slip on the last abatis, and my heart stopped.
I didn’t get enough speed.
Panicked, I twisted in the air, my foot smearing on the obstacle as I fell forward. My body hurtled over the last stretch of wire, the rusted blades passing by at hair’s-breadth, and I rocketed down into the mud like a falling shell.
Whump.
Wet earth coated my shirt and face, the wind was knocked out of my lungs, and both elbows stung from the impact.
I spat gritty specks of dirt out in a wheezing groan. “Nailed it.”
Miraculously, I had no cuts, no splinters, but my aching shoulders told me I’d regret that last tumble in the morning. With no time to lose, I scrambled to my feet, and flattened myself against the wall, the guns of my friends roaring above me. The barricade had been the easy part; the climb lay ahead, and my guts churned at the prospect.
Turning to face the wall, I searched until I spotted a particularly knotted log amongst the palisade and dated to its base. Most of the old branches had been chopped off during the wall’s construction many days before I’d ever set foot in Barro County, but a few logs had stumps left where the workers hadn’t smoothed them out. These were little more than bumps at times, and I would have to rely on them to scale at least twenty feet off the ground. A few of the incoming rockets had blasted away some of the razor wire coils around the top of the palisades, so if I could reach the top, I could hoist myself inside, but there were gun muzzles every few feet up there. How was I supposed to sneak past them without getting shot?
One thing at a time, Hannah.
I shook myself, as if getting ready for a run, and licked my chapped lips.
You can do this. Just don’t look down.
Digging my fingernails into the wood grain, I wedged my feet into the narrow space between the logs, gripped the first nub of what had been a pine branch, and pulled myself upward.
My muscles hurt, every limb shook with the exertion, and fear made my heart pound in terrified drumbeats, but I forced myself higher. The gunfire was deafening, jagged splinters found their way under the skin of my hands, and sticky sweat ran down my torso. Salty gun smoke tickled my nose, my throat cried out for water, and my stomach threatened to revolt from the stress. A few bullets snapped and pinged around me, showered me with wood fragments as they chewed into the wall, and I fought to keep my breathing steady. I couldn’t lose my cool, not now, not when everything relied on me giving this task one-hundred-and-ten percent of my concentration. I might not have been a fat kid, but I certainly had never done any climbing like this, and all it would take was one wrong move to fall to my death on the abatis below.
One of the knots gave out under my right foot, the air caught in my throat, and I clawed at the next stump up from me with manic strength.
In seconds, my legs floundered on nothing, I lost my grip on the left handhold, and the fingernails on my right hand screamed in pain as the full weight of my body rested on them.
No.
Suspended like a spider from its web, I gathered all the strength I had left and forced my tortured fingers deeper into the mud-packed gap between the logs.
Not today.
The flesh beneath my fingernails tore, but I shoved them further into the woodgrain, and reached higher with my free hand.
I’m not dying today.
My palm grasped a solid knot, and I found my footing again, the fingers on my right hand dripping blood with spasmodic throbs of pain.
At last, I crouched against the vertical face of the fort, just under the mangled brackets and shredded wire of the parapets. Through my ringing ears, I could hear the shouts of my faction-mates above me, the roars of their weapons, and the screams of wounded inside the walls. I had to get inside within the next few moments, or my waning energy would deplete, and I wouldn’t be able to hold on any longer. I thought about calling up to them, but how would they hear me over all the chaos? Even if they did, they might not recognize me; I had golden eyes now, silver tattoos on my skin, and blonde streaks in my brown hair. How were they to know that I wasn’t a pirate, or a mutant?
Technically I am a mutant . . . wait . . . that’s it.
Wincing at what I had to do, I shut my eyes, and rested my forehead against the palisade. “Sorry guys.”
Just as before, I let the scream well in my lungs, the tendons in my jaw elongate, the bones coming unhinged. It ripped out of me like a siren, cutting across the battlefield in a high, alien shriek that caused several guns on both sides to fall silent. I did my best to cut it short, to choke the air off halfway through in an effort to avoid hurting anyone, but I had no idea if I did or not. My abilities were still only half-known to me, and the possibility of killing some of our own hurt worse than my ragged fingers did. Still, I had no choice.
If I didn’t get inside, everyone would die.
As soon as my mouth snapped shut, I pushed myself up, and crawled over the edge of the ramparts on all fours like some kind of primordial nightmare.
Rangers, workers, and even a few researcher medics dotted the walkway, some still on their feet, eyes wide in shock, blood running from their ears. More were on their hands and knees, vomiting, rubbing at their heads in pain, or drunkenly trying to get back up. At least six people that I could see were motionless, twitching in what I hoped was unconsciousness, slumped against the battlements with their weapons discarded at their sides. It was dark on the ramparts, as the defenders didn’t wish to give a clear silhouette for the pirates to shoot at, and I seized the moment to scuttle toward the nearest set of steps that led down into the interior.
“Hey!”
A man’s voice boomed behind me, and boots thundered on the planks.
“You! Stop!”
I took the stairs down three at a time, and as soon as my shoes hit grass, I took off through the maze of gardens between the worker cabins. There weren’t many people out in the space between the fort walls; most seemed to be either on the defenses, or hiding in buildings, only venturing out to collect wounded, run ammunition to the fighters, or communicate with another hunkered-down group of civilians.
Rounding a corner, I caught sight of the lodge not far ahead, and felt my heart skip a beat. I just had to break into my room to find my gear. With my Type 9 back at my side, I could hunt Jamie down, put an end to this madness, and help Chris fight off Grapeshot’s men.
Wham.
Two beefy arms tackled me to the ground, and one hand pressed my head to the grass so I couldn’t fight back.
“I got it!” The man’s voice yelled, and something in my head clicked into place.
I know that voice.
Steel flashed in the night, a blade rose high, and I squirmed to get my mouth free of the grease-stained fingers. “Wait! Andrew, it’s me! It’s Hannah!”
The gleaming metal stopped a few inches from my left eyeball, and the grip on me relaxed.
A curly red head appeared over me, and Andrew blinked in utter amazement. “Hannah?”
He released me, the two of us sitting back in the grass, and the armorer took in my facial features with confusion. “How . . . you . . . you’re supposed to be dead.”
“Long story.” I tore off a section of my shirt and daubed at the bleeding fingers of my right hand, the nails humped up and cracked with crimson oozing out. “Is Chris alive?”
“Yeah.” Andrew eyed my haggard face, muddy clothes, and ripped-up fingers in bewilderment. “You’ve been gone so long, he’s the only one who didn’t give up looking. What happened to your—”
Coughing on a dry catch in the back of my throat, I waved his questions off. “There’s no time. I need to find Jamie. Have you seen her?”
For a brief second, Andrew seemed puzzled, and then understanding set in in the guise of a heavy frown. “She told everyone the freaks got you. She . . . she did this, didn’t she? She lied.”
More than you know.
I accepted his offer of a hand up and grabbed Andrew’s arm as he moved to turn away. “She’s been spying for ELSAR. I need to catch her, or she could get away with something really important. Where is she?”
His eyes blazing with a shattered fury, Andrew jerked his ruddy head toward the parking lot. “Last I saw, she was headed for the clinic.”
“Are there any lower sections of wall near there?” I paced alongside him as we fast walked toward the visitor’s center, where the mortar pits barked with constant outgoing shells. “Places someone could sneak out?”
Andrew’s knuckles tinged white as he squeezed the stock on his rifle so hard I thought it would crack, a vein sticking out of his neck. “One spot by Carnivore Cove is five feet lower than the others. We’ve been meaning to add more wire there, but never got around to it. There’s not been much shooting on that side, so there aren’t many guards.”
Stopping him, I pointed to the walls, and tugged my Colt from its holster. “Go get Sean, or Ethan, and as many men as you can spare. I’ll head her off before she can hop the wall. If she’s still here, Jamie won’t surrender without a fight.”
“You shouldn’t go alone.” He threw a glance at the flashes in the night all around us, the fort coming back to life as the effects of my scream wore off.
I set my jaw and did my best to hide the rage that slowly began to boil under my skin as the memory of Jamie’s betrayal came back to me. “I have to.”
With a resolute nod, Andrew loped off toward the others, and I sprinted into the shadows, my mind made up. I had omitted Chris from my directions on purpose; a part of me wasn’t ready to face him yet. How could I, knowing that I wasn’t the same girl who had danced with him, painted toy soldiers with him, dreamed of a better world with him? My hazel eyes had been stolen from me to be replaced with luminous golden ones, I could sense things normal people couldn’t, and I had no idea if I would ever be able to bear children after the myriad of things that ELSAR had done to me. Apart from that, there was still the fact that he’d kissed Jamie while I lay dying in the hospital. Just knowing Chris was alive satisfied me for now, but sooner or later I would have to face the secrets between us. I needed to know why he’d done it, even if the reason would be like a bullet to my heart.
First, though, I had to avoid getting a bullet to the skull.
I sped through the gravel roads, footpaths, and grassy side yards with lethal speed, new resilience in my legs, and cold vengeance in my mind. Jamie would pay for what she’d done to me. She would answer for stealing the beacon, for murdering the two Ark River guards, for lying through her teeth to everyone at New Wilderness from the start. She would pay, or so help me, I would shoot her myself.
At the end of the gravel lanes between the animal enclosures, I slowed my pace as I approached the Fur and Fang Veterinary clinic, and blinked in surprise.
Thick black smoke billowed into the air, most of the researchers outside in the grass tending to wounded men on stretchers while flames consumed the upper levels of the building. More tried to fight the fire with extinguishers and a water hose, but the heat was too much for them, the building’s upper half a lost cause. From what I could see, it hadn’t been hit by any rockets or shells, yet the flames were gushing from the inside of the building, not out.
So, that’s you plan then, Lansen? Set a fire and slip out while everyone scrambles? You were always smart . . . too smart for your own good.
Shoving past the crowd of white-jacketed medics who tried to stop me, I jumped up the concrete steps of the clinic, and dashed in through the shattered glass front doors with my pistol drawn.
Murky gray smoke crawled across the ceiling in tiny curls, the air tangy with the scent of burning plastic. Trampled sheets, bloody and forgotten, lay on the floor where the fleeing staff had evacuated their patients. Fire crackled in the floors above, the lights flickered as the electrical wires began to melt, but the noise from outside came muffled here, dampened to a hazy, distant stammer.
Basked in the eerie combination of the fire’s hunger and the eerie quiet, I moved with my gun raised, and swept each corner, searched the rooms with the iron sights firmly in my view. She had to be somewhere in here, and I wasn’t about to call out to give Jamie any advantages. No, I would surprise her, and if she pointed a gun at me, I would do what needed doing.
“Where are you?” I whispered to myself between grinding teeth, as the pulse roared in my temple.
Clearing out the left-side hall, I returned to the central foyer, and started to head right toward the main laboratory when I noticed dark clots of potting soil tracked across the tilework.
Got you.
I nudged aside the potted plant, exposing the door to the hidden laboratory, and saw with mute satisfaction that it hung ajar. Of course she had gone for this place; some of our most important research was stored there. If Jamie had broken into Dr. O’Brian’s office, then she might have our radio networks bugged, every scrap of information on the mutants passed on, detailed plans on our food storage, water filtration system, seed harvest, all of it. ELSAR would be able to hit us with any number of attacks, from suicide drones carrying bio-chemicals to poison our crops, to electronic jammers to scramble our communications, and we wouldn’t even know until it was too late. Just the idea of such a monstrous plot made the bitterness inside morph into hatred, and I thumbed down the pistol’s safety to fling the office door open.
She sat in the computer chair behind O’Brian’s desk, bleach-blonde hair pulled up in her usual short-but-practical bun. Jamie didn’t even turn to face me, almost as if she were expecting this moment, and that only made my blood pressure rise further.
If you think I’ll go soft on you, you’ve got another thing coming.
“Turn around, Jamie.” I hissed, the Colt in my hand shaking from how hard I gripped it with pent-up vitriol.
Jamie didn’t move, save for a mere twitch as if in indifference, the high back of the swivel chair obscuring her face from me.
“I said turn around!” My temper boiled hotter, and I shouted the words, ready to erupt like a volcano. “I want you to look at me. I want you to see what you did.”
Every rational thought left, any care for the events outside, the larger war, or my own fate. Raw emotion took over me, hungry all-consuming grief, pain, rage, and hatred that seized control of my brain like a cosmic parasite. In that moment, I wanted to pull the trigger. I wanted to see her eyes before I did, wanted Jamie to feel the fear, the anguish, the sadness that she’d put me through for just a split second before I wiped her off the map. I wanted vengeance, cold, sweet, and cruel, which meant she was going to turn and look me in the eye, even if it meant spending another few minutes in smoky air.
Jamie refused to budge, and in a blind fit of anger, I grabbed the arm of the computer chair, and spung her around.
In the sweltering heat of the burning building, my blood ran cold as ice.
What the . . .
She sat with her arms, legs, and head strapped to the chair with duct tape, eyes closed in unconsciousness. Jamie’s left arm bore a needle in its wrist fed by a drip-bag taped to her neck to keep it out of sight, and she twitched every so often, as if in a deep sleep that she couldn’t shake.
Click.
“Put the gun down, Hannah.”
A hammer locked back on a snub-nosed revolver, and a solitary figure stepped out from behind the glass Puppet specimen tank. A canvas sling bag hung from the figure’s shoulder, filled with papers, hard-drives, and folders, its opposite hand clutching a matte-black set of metal handcuffs. Familiar gray military fatigues adorned the slender frame, and shock cut through me like lightning at the face that appeared from the shadows.
“You?” I gasped, the former sea of anger dissipating in a whirlwind of stunned fear, and panicked dread.
Dr. O’Brian let slide a triumphant smirk, blocking the door with her uniformed body as she tossed the handcuffs at my feet. “Mr. Koranti sends his regards.”