Behind her the trees were loud with the crash of drones. Could pigs climb? Isa bolted, aiming for the closest trunk that had decent handholds.
She was almost there.
Her right foot missed a step, and she was no longer running toward the tree. The ground underneath her caved and Isa plummeted, the world rushing up to meet her in a storm of dirt and ripped roots. Stones and grit pelted her skin and then the sun vanished as she tumbled headlong into the earth.
36
Heath aimed the hopper straight through the low-lying cloud on a direct course for the lower atmosphere of Resu.
Jack was still hanging onto the back of his seat, his feet wedged between the two pilot chairs. “Heath, fucking straighten this thing up before I fall out the damn window.”
Heath kept his gaze locked on the flight diagnostics. His pulse throbbed in his temple and his muscles burned with exhaustion, but there was no turning back now. The hunt had been in play for fifteen minutes already. “Can’t. If we take the safe route down, we won’t get there in time.”
“So it’s better to arrive dead but punctual? Is that what you’re saying?” Jack didn’t keep the exasperation out of his voice.
“Something like that.”
“Fucking hell.”
Bloody sunlight flooded the interior as Heath piloted the hopper lower. Atmospheric shields engaged, tinting the world reddish-gray.
“Angie, you got a location on that tracking device yet?”
Angie lifted her hands from the armrest and blinked, her eyes coming back into focus.
“I have the location in Ixoth.” She frowned. “The readings are confusing. Databases confirm the hunt has begun but the tracking tag is stationary.”
Heath’s stomach contracted to a vicious pinpoint. “Do you have a specific location?”
“Heath, if the tag isn’t moving, the chances are—”
She’s not dead.
“I’m well aware of what it means. Upload the location to the flight systems.”
Angie dipped her head and location data appeared on the screen.
Jack’s hand clamped down on Heath’s shoulder with a firm squeeze. “Heath—”
“I’m not ready to give up yet, Jack. I can’t.”
Jack sighed. “Fine. I’ll have a check for weapons while we’re plummeting to the ground. Never know what’s stashed in the closet.” He edged away from the flight seats in an awkward crab walk.
Angie shot Heath a sideways glance. She grasped his hand and laced her fingers through his. The old Angie from his childhood was there, smiling at him. “Let’s go get her.” She blinked and the silver strands in her irises re-connected.
Heath sighed and brought his hand back to his own seat. He’d already lost part of Angie long ago; he wasn’t ready to lose Isa.
“Ixoth.” Angie reported. Sharp-edged buildings rose in a dense network below them.
Heath banked hard to port, wheeling around the city boundaries. In the center, Ixoth’s landmark central building reached for the sky, a jagged green-blue shard.
“Sensors show the tag is several miles south of the city. Bringing up diagnostics now.” Angie scrolled through screens too fast for Heath to follow. “She’s underground. Plotting a course now.”
Heath strained forward in his seat as he brought the hopper in to land.
“Approaching estimated arrival point,” Angie said, her voice emotionless.
More desolate sand and bare rock. Hundreds of wild boars scattered across the scrubland below, their noses flanked by wicked-looking tusks.
Heath sacrificed grace for speed and their landing was clumsy. Behind him, there was a crash and profuse swearing.
Heath was up and out his seat before the craft had settled. “Jack, you alive?”
“Fucking think so.” Jack crawled out from behind a paneled door. A broad smile split his face as he brandished a sturdy grenade launcher. “Found the guns. Let’s go.”
The door to the craft slid open and Heath was out, running. He angled the field pad on his wrist to maintain visuals on Isa’s tag.
He reached the hole in the ground in less than a minute. Jack and Angie skidded to a halt close by, their boots dislodging loose pebbles that clattered into the darkness. “Angie?”
She nodded, confirming the readings on his field pad. Heath blew out a breath and clambered into the hole. There were steps. What the hell was this place? Smooth polished rock on his left allowed him to steady himself as he careened down the hewn staircase. He bottomed out on a polished white floor, his boots loud in the space.
The space was empty.
Angie and Jack clattered to join him, flanking him with their weapons raised.
Jack’s voice was a low growl. “Where the fuck is she, Heath?”
Heath spun in a tight circle. The room was large, but half of it was closed off, separated by a glass panel.
“Allow me.” Jack directed a spray of laser fire that vaporized the glass.
Heath struggled to take a full breath as he jogged the circumference of the room, his hands sliding along the walls searching for a doorway, a clue, fucking anything that would tell him where she was. His grip on his weapon threatened to shatter metal. His mind shrieked at him. She had to be here.
“Heath.” Jack returned to the base of the stairs, his face uncharacteristically serious. “Over here.”
Heath joined him. There was blood on the shelf. The edges of his vision darkened as Jack stepped back to give him a clear view. A bloody disk. He picked it up, blood making it slippery in his hand.
Isa’s blood.
“She cut it out,” Angie whispered.
His fist closed around it, the metal gouging his skin. “How are we going to find her now?”
“Heath, I’m sorry—”
“I’m not giving up, Angie. I promised I’d take her home.” His voice hitched despite his best efforts to remain in control. Something else was on the ledge. Her wedding band. It lay on the shelf, accusing him. Heath stumbled back, clutching the tag to his chest. The room was too small. He had to get out. Air. He needed air.
He only took one step before a deep voice brought him to a standstill. “Looking for someone?”
37
Isa landed on her back. Air exploded from her lungs and her teeth snapped home with a loud crack.
“Oh, God…” Her voice sounded disconnected. Far away. Pain plowed through her pelvis. For a second, she wasn’t even sure her limbs worked.
She pitched onto her side, exhaling puffs of sand. Particles stuck to her bloodied lip like sugar sprinkles. She risked a glance at the sky through the narrow chasm she’d fallen through. She’d plunged almost fifteen feet, but the drones hadn’t followed her. If she was lucky, she might not even be visible from above.
Lucky. Her forehead kissed sand and she spat blood. Yeah, that’s what she was.
One arm at a time, she straightened and pushed her upper body up and away from the sand. Her skin tingled from its warmth.
She glanced around. She was in a large cavern, at least some of it engineered. Pitted struts aligned along one wall supported the cave roof. A soft luminescence glowed from the rock and it glittered with embedded crystals. A mine?
She felt her lip with tentative fingers, noting the burst flesh, grateful all her teeth appeared to be in the right places. Relieved, she blotted her bloody lip with her sleeve and hauled herself up onto her knees.
She scrunched hot sand in her fists then listened to its soft patter as it fell. She splayed her fingers on the undisturbed surface, unsure of what she was searching for but feeling it was the right thing to do. She hadn’t forgotten the giant croc. Vibration tracked up from below, pinging against the sensitive skin of her palm. Something was moving underneath.
Isa snatched her hand away and wobbled to her feet. The world whooped in and out of focus. With careful fingers, she prodded her skull. Still intact. Little mercies. She’d take all she could get.
A trickle of granules patte
red against the crown of her head. Above, two boars peered over the edge of the broken mine roof. At least none had fallen down with her. The boars snorted, but they weren’t stupid, and after a few moments of snuffling heavily into the dirt, they retreated, leaving her alone.
Her laser gun had been in her hand when she fell. She swept a hurried circle across the sand, searching for it, but drew a blank. Either it was still up with the boars or the sand had swallowed it. She still had Agatha’s gift of the knife and withdrew it from its sheath, the blade was undamaged but dulled with her blood. She touched the back of her ear, where the flesh was sticky and ruined. Nausea surged within her, hot and bitter.
Isa gritted her teeth. Her suffering wouldn’t go unrewarded and she wasn’t dead yet.
When the wave of queasiness passed, she pushed up off the wall, her face damp with perspiration. Two tunnels branched off from the main cavern, the soft light of the cave dimming further down each tunnel. Neither of them looked inviting.
But she didn’t want to die on this goddamn rock. She wanted to speak to Heath again. She took a few cautious steps, then satisfied her legs functioned, she crept over to where the cave separated into tunnels. Her breath stuttered in her throat, forcing her to press against her abdomen to steady herself. When she straightened, her jaw was a little firmer. She’d dealt with worse with Heath, she could do this.
She would escape and find Heath and tell him she was sorry. Sorry for being furious when he’d struggled with a lousy situation.
She swiped loose hair from her face, nudged her sleeves up past her elbows, and gripped the knife tightly. She had two choices: left or right.
Eeny, meeny, miny, mo.
Left.
Nope.
With a deep breath, she entered the right fork of the tunnel. The passage curved around a corner and from there, instead of becoming darker, the light increased. She walked with one hand scuffing the rough wall, drawing comfort from the illumination.
The dip in the sand was a tiny thing. A minute depression out the corner of her eye. It deepened as if a blade were being drawn through from underneath. Isa froze, and she tightened her damp palms around her knife hilt.
A matte gray fin emerged from the sand in an effortless hiss.
A shark fin. This totally wasn’t possible.
But the fin continued to head toward her, rising far enough to reveal an intimidatingly broad back before plunging out of sight.
Okay, it was possible.
She licked moisture from her lip, still motionless. What about all the David Attenborough programs she’d endured as a child? Didn’t sharks hunt by vibration and electromagnetic impulses? Did that work in sand?
The creature’s blunt snout surfaced mere inches from her right foot. Her legs were wide, one boot in front of the other, mid-step. Grains slipped off the top of her boots, counting down each hellish second. Sweat soaked the small of her back as she willed it to disappear.
The shark huffed and lifted its stocky head. Isa exhaled the world’s smallest breath. It was blind. Where there’d once been eyes, only mounded protrusions existed. It hunted with elongated white whiskers. Gossamer thin, they sprouted from the side of its snout in a smooth arc, quivering in a delicate dance against the sand.
Searching for her.
Her heart thudded, so loud the sand shark must surely have sensed it.
The animal sniffed. Tiny specks of mica landed on Isa’s boot. Finally, the head tilted away from her and it yawned, and Isa was treated to the vision of three rows of backward-facing teeth, just waiting to sink themselves into her snack-worthy limbs. Hell, it had to be eight feet long. Its jaws snapped shut, and the shark dived with a flick of its muscular tail, vanishing as if the sand were as fluid as water.
Isa breathed out. Her thighs were jelly, her feet leaden. Think. There had to be something.
There was.
Something hard in her pocket.
Yes.
Isa lowered into a crouch and readied herself.
38
Heath stopped dead in his tracks.
Buke was on the opposite side of the room.
“I should have known you wouldn’t be far away.”
“What and miss all the fun?” Buke lifted a shoulder but kept his weapon aimed at Heath. “I thought it prudent to monitor my investment. After all, last time I took my eye off the ball, she went AWOL.”
Heath worked his jaw. It took all his strength to not launch himself across at Buke and rip the man’s face off. “Where is she?”
Buke paced closer. Two heavyset men in glossy black armor had his back. “I was hoping you could answer that.”
“She cut out her tracking tag.” Angie’s voice was level, the complete antithesis of the boiling blood pounding through Heath’s body. Every muscle twitched with repressed violence.
Buke tutted. “Inconvenient. I’m thinking I should have stuck with dumb animals. At least they’re not trying to deceive me at every opportunity.”
A shadow flitted across the opening above Heath’s head. Jack. Had he made it outside?
“Drop your weapons. If the woman will make my life difficult, then you can take her place.” He grimaced as if he’d swallowed bitter lemon. “A businessman has to see a return on his investment, don’t you agree?”
Light shifted and danced across the glass ceiling. What the hell was Jack doing up there? Heath didn’t dare look.
Buke jerked the nose of his gun. “I said, weapons down.” He advanced a step and waved the two guards forward. “Get their guns.”
Before the guards moved, a bone-juddering reverberation shook the room and glass shattered above their heads. Heath staggered back, narrowly avoiding Jack as he plummeted through the glass roof, arms spread-eagled to break his fall. He snagged all three men, and they folded under him, grunting with a clatter of dropped firearms.
Isa had Heath’s collar and was hauling him to his feet before the lethal shower had finished raining down. He scrambled for grip, pushing after her, slipping on the steps, his fingers still slick with Isa’s blood. He stumbled and scraped his shin on the edge. Fuck. Ignoring the blinding pain, he sped up the remaining steps behind Angie, back out into the desert air. He collapsed onto jagged rock, gasping for breath. “What now?”
“That way.” Angie pointed at a dark cloud above some trees. “Drones. They have to be looking for Isa.”
“Angie—”
“Go!” She was already descending the steps that led back to the chamber below. She raised her weapon, ready to fire. “Someone has to make sure that dumbass doesn’t get himself killed.” Then, she vanished.
Heath doubled down and ran.
39
Isa retrieved the heart-shaped quartz from her pocket. The one Heath had secreted away in his backpack from the beach. She rubbed it with her thumb and pushed back onto her haunches, unable to stop herself scanning the sand. Looking wouldn’t help. If the shark found her, she’d be lunch before she even knew about it.
She drew herself up to her full height, her thighs trembling from the controlled effort. She turned and squinted at the craggy wall in the faint light. About twenty feet from where she stood, the rock face protruded. A small ledge. Isa gripped the stone tighter.
She visualized the throw in her mind’s eye, landing at the end of a perfect arc and clattering against rock, then falling with a muted thud on sand. Far away.
The expensive wool of her shirt clung to her back and arms with the embrace of a wet sheet. Ahead of her, the sand dipped, sucked from beneath.
Now!
Isa threw the crystal, flinging it with every ounce of strength she had. It flew straight, more direct than she’d imagined, smacking into the rock with a resounding crack before it dropped with a thunk.
The shark crested an instant later, its arched dorsal fin carving at a speed that defied logic. It was in sand, for God’s sake.
Her heart flew into a fierce rat-a-tat that promised to shatter her ribs. It was working. It was wo
rking—the damn shark was tracking the stone. She bit down on a roar of triumph.
Isa bolted in the opposite direction, pumping her arms as she aimed for the narrow shelves carved out of the soft sedimentary rock.
Her gaze narrowed, all her attention focused on the ledge.
Fifteen feet.
Ten feet.
She dug deep. Her own loud gasps dominated her ears but the hissing of the sand grew louder, rising behind her in a tidal wave of tiny particles.
It was on to her.
The sand beneath her feet grew unsubstantial, dissolving under her weight. Panic spiked through her like acid as she sank lower, the tops of her boots submerging.
She wouldn’t make it. She would be sucked under the surface and if the shark didn’t tear her apart, she’d suffocate, millions of tiny sparkling particles forcing their way down her throat and lungs.
Like hell.
With a final burst of energy, she burst free and leaped the few remaining feet. She hit the wall head-on, smashing her nose in a starburst of crimson pain. Frantic, she spread her fingers wide, groping for a handhold, anything to stop her falling back into the whispering floor. Thick blood smeared the rock as she grasped solidity and her boots steadied on the inch-wide ledge.
She was out the sand.
She pressed herself into the cave wall, catching the blood from her nose with her hand. Her calves cramped as a gunmetal tail fin pounded rock only inches from her boot.
Sweet Jesus.
She was alive, but stuck to the wall like someone had thrown her there. Was this meant to be an improvement? She slowed her breathing, fearful that the rise of her lungs would knock her off the wall. Damp hair obscured her vision but not enough that she’d miss the sandy whirlpool too close to her heels as the shark scoured her tracks.
This was not a fucking improvement. This was postponing death. Briefly.
Hunted Page 17
