I limped forward, feeling for damage. My hip hurt like a bastard, but it held. Nothing broken, I thought, then heard a glassy rattle. When I checked the pouch on my upper thigh, I found that the round had smashed the green crystal gun I’d taken from Yuri’s safe. It was in a hundred pieces and some jagged ends had slashed through the Faraday bag. None had sliced through my trousers, though, so there was that. I debated throwing it the hell away because — let’s face it — green crystals in any form were beginning to freak me the fuck out. But before I could do that, there was noise from inside the stairwell and I did a quick-look around the doorway to see a third man coming up fast, gun socketed into his shoulder. I shot him twice in the face and he tumbled back down.
The moment became instantly still as I listened for more immediate threats. Nothing close to hand; all of the weird screams and sounds of battle were downstairs and in remote parts of the building. Even so, there was an odd little flicker inside my head and heart as I looked at the three dead men, and for the strangest moment I saw my own face superimposed over theirs. And in that fragment of a second, I wished it was me lying there with my brains blown out. With all of my bad memories splattered across the floor. An ugly little voice seemed to whisper to me.
That’s how the pain ends. Miss the next shot. Pause for a heartbeat and all of this goes away. Helen and Grace and your mom… they’re all waiting for you.
It stopped me. Chilled me. Horrified me.
Because that inner voice was mine. Or… one of my voices. It was the Modern Man aspect of my fractured personality. The civilized part of me. The one who would have been dominant if Helen and I had never been attacked. Maybe the real me. The Modern Man was not a killer, not a soldier, not a cop. He wasn’t part of anything that happened in my life after Helen. Nothing. He was stalled at the ending point of my innocence, standing on that cliff edge.
Never once in all my life had he ever spoken so harshly, so savagely, to me. Never once in my life had he made so goddamn much sense.
Let it end and be free, he told me.
The Cop part of my mind rose up and began to talk, to reason, to construct arguments against that kind of insane thinking, but he was howled down by the Killer. Guilt, heartbreak, despair were all as foreign to him as the kind of weariness of spirit I heard in the Modern Man’s voice. The Killer threw back his head and roared an inarticulate challenge. In hatred and defiance.
And then I heard Ghost bark. Once. Twice. Not at another threat heading our way. He was barking at me. Sharp, angry, frightened barks.
I flinched away from those barks and toppled back against the wall, gasping as if I’d run up a flight of stairs.
That fast, it was all over. I was back in complete control and there was no inner argument. It was so sudden and so total that I had a very hard time accepting that I’d heard the Modern Man say those things. Looking inward, even he seemed surprised.
Ghost barked once more. Low and mean and urgent.
“I’m okay,” I said, gasping it out. “I’m good.”
The wolf eyed me without tolerance or mercy. I straightened and I could feel the Killer looking out through my eyes. In the presence of his true pack leader, Ghost sat down and even wagged his bushy tail.
My life is a freak show. Ask anyone.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOURTEEN
“Area,” I said to Ghost. It was the command to use his canine ears and nose to assess the stairwell the two soldiers had come out of. He whuffed quietly. All clear. We went down fast. I cleared each corner and made sure, though, because even a dog as well trained and experienced as Ghost can be wrong.
We went down three flights, and with each step the sounds of battle grew louder. We moved out into an empty hall. As we ran along it, I tapped my earbud to the team channel and left the signal open.
“Sergeant Rock,” I said quietly, “sit-rep.”
I wasn’t sure if he’d be able to answer, but his gruff voice was in my ear, breathless and tense.
“Got some weird shit coming down, Cowboy,” he said. “The new hostiles are soldiers, no doubt about. No rank or insignia, but they move like SpecOps. But the security guards are queering the math. Those assholes have suddenly gone totally ape shit. They’re shooting up the place. Not really aiming, but throwing a lot of ordnance downrange, aiming at anything that moves, including the soldiers. Don’t make sense to me, but that’s the situation.”
“Sergeant Rock,” I said, “confirm that the Pushkin guards are shooting at everyone?”
“Confirmed, Cowboy, it’s like they’re drunk or something. But there’s a shit-ton more of them than we thought. Not just more guards, but a bunch of guys dressed like factory workers, too. At least thirty. Some guys in white lab coats, too. Coming out of everywhere.”
Bunny came onto the call. “Got that here, too. Couple of doors opened to a lab or something. These assholes are streaming out. Most do not have firearms. Repeat, most civilians are not carrying guns. They’re coming at us with broom handles and fire extinguishers. They’re not even organized.”
“Green Giant, have you engaged the soldiers yet?”
“Negative. Coffey and I are moving through a suite of offices. Only encountering some guards and civilian staff.”
Smith chimed in, “You’re about to have a lot of company, Green Giant. Count ten hostiles. Possibly more.”
“Three more SUVs just pulled in on the far side of the lot,” called Duffy.
Well, I thought, isn’t that just peachy?
“Keep them entertained, Spartan,” I ordered, and he actually chuckled. Fruitcake. “Green Giant and Coffey, open the Toybox.”
“Hooah,” said an enthusiastic Tate. The Toybox was a satchel of really nasty booby traps and urban-warfare limited-area mines developed by Doc Holliday. Tate, who was the techiest of us, loved all that shit. While Top and Cole had been investigating the loading bay and I’d been visiting the damn Twilight Zone, Bunny and Tate spent their time preparing for a worst-case scenario with Doc’s gruesome gizmos.
“Everybody turn your Tinglers on,” said Bunny. We all did. Tinglers are a real-time warning system hardwired into our suits that let us know where the booby traps were, what they were, and which routes were safe for us to use.
“Sergeant Rock,” I called, “what’s your twenty?”
“We’re still in the loading bay, rear exit,” said Top. “But we’re boxed. I have shooters between me and the exit and behind us firing from cover, and a lot of those crazy-ass guards and lab techs running everywhere. We’re going to have to start dropping civilians if we’re going to get clear of this.”
“Coming to you,” I said.
Duffy chimed in. “Echo Team, be advised you kids better haul ass or hide, ’cause there’s a shit-ton of them about to storm the castle. We’re not getting out of this without a gunfight.”
Top said, “This is going south on us, Cowboy.”
And Bunny was back, yelling in near panic. “Fuck, I just had two lab guys try to bite me.”
“Confirm… bite?” I demanded. A chill raced through me nonetheless. We’d encountered biters before. The living dead infected from Seif al Din, the genetically enhanced Berserkers, and the bloodthirsty Red Knights. I could feel terror boiling in my gut.
“Roger that,” Bunny said, sounding out of breath. “It’s cool, it’s cool. I don’t think we’re dealing with Seif al Din. These guys had heartbeats. When they couldn’t bite me, they began punching each other. I banged their heads together and they went out for a nap. But there’s more chasing us. We’re heading to the lobby. No other route possible, but there’s a shitload of these assholes on our six. Coffey’s leaving some parting gifts on our back-trail.”