His long-suffering sigh came through the commlink. “Let’s keep the questions to a minimum. You need to concentrate on what we’re doing. There’s no space to screw up.”
“I will. I promise.”
“You drive me crazy, chère. I worry that you’ll distract yourself to the point of getting killed.”
“I know.” There wasn’t much else she could say.
He let out another little sigh, resigned, she supposed, to having to deal with her inquisitive nature. “There’s no need for them to monitor this side of the wall. Nothing lives over here.”
She couldn’t help the pleased smile that escaped when he answered her question, although she wasn’t sure he was right. She looked at the thick red cloud and shuddered. It was only a feeling, but she could swear that the cloud was aware of their presence. Which meant something definitely lived on this side of the wall.
“Here.” Striker stopped suddenly. He pointed to the ground where there was a small tunnel-like opening in the red mist. “We’re going through one of the narrower parts of the mist, around ten miles wide. It’s gonna feel like fifty by the time we’re on the other side. We crawl for about half an hour and then we get more room to move around. Okay?”
“Okay.” She fought to keep her questions to herself, but it actually physically hurt to do so, and she was pretty sure keeping them bottled up inside of her would make it harder to concentrate on doing what she was told. “I have a couple more questions.”
“Are they relevant to what we’re doing? Because, remember, no wandering off in your head. It’s too dangerous.”
She nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see. “Yes, they’re relevant. The tunnels and paths, the parts of the Red Zone where the mist has receded, do they shift? Are we likely to climb into a tunnel that suddenly disappears in front of us, or swallows us whole?”
“It happens. We monitor the paths and know instantly if anything changes. But the mist is slow-moving. It wouldn’t shift fast enough to trap us inside.”
“Good, that’s good.” The air in her suit had become oppressive. The building heat made sweat run down her back and gather under her breasts. “Is the air where the red mist has receded contaminated or is it okay to breathe?”
“The air is good. You could take off your helmet and breathe normally. The only reason you’re wearing it is to offer some protection in case you brush up against the mist.”
“To buy time for you to counteract it before it’s absorbed?”
“That’s right.”
She desperately wanted to ask how he was going to do that exactly, but she figured that was one of those discussions he would deem as not immediately relevant.
“Let’s go.” He took a step toward the red.
“Wait.” She put a hand on his arm to stop him. “You said you’ve taken other people through here before me. If that’s the case, why doesn’t anyone know about the paths through the mist?”
“Chère.” His voice was back to that irresistible southern drawl that made her shiver. “I know you’re stalling, but you ain’t ever gonna be ready to go in there, no matter how long you give yourself.”
“No.” She blinked several times. “I want to know. It’s important.” Had the other people he’d taken through died? Is that why no one knew about the paths, because no one had lived to talk about it?
“Well, seeing as it’s important. Usually we knock our customers out before we take them through the mist.”
“What?” She could have been unconscious? That was an option? Now he told her. “Don’t they have to stay awake to ensure they don’t touch the mist?”
He shrugged. “I get paid up front. Doesn’t matter to me what condition they’re in at the other side.”
She felt bile rise to her mouth at his nonchalant answer.
“You about ready to go now? I mean, it’s your life we’re literally wasting while you stand here analyzing everything, but I’m happy to hang around until your curiosity is satisfied before we get on with this.”
Now he was just irritating her. “I prefer your anger to your sarcasm.”
“Good to know. How about you get to your knees and follow me into the Red Zone. If you’re finished with your questions, that is.”
“Yes. I’m finished.”
“Fantastic. I’m thrilled.” He gave her one last pointed look. “Don’t screw up.” Then he dropped to all fours in front of the gateway into the mist.
With a shaky breath, Friday did the same. Her own shallow breaths were loud within the confines of the helmet. Sweat trickled down her brow and into her eyes, and she wished it were possible to brush it away. Her movements were awkward and stiff, restricted by the suit. Her heart pounded hard and fast, making her fear she would have a heart attack. Somewhere in the back of her mind that never stopped, she wondered if an increased rate of blood flow would speed up the activation of the poison in her system and cause her limited lifespan to end even earlier than she’d predicted.
“I can hear you thinking.” The voice in her ear was reassuring, and she realized that since she’d met the man, she’d spoken to him more over helmet comms than in person.
“I can’t help it,” she said through gritted teeth.
“I know, bébé. I know. Now let’s play follow the leader.” With that, the crazy man crawled straight into the deadliest area on earth.
Chapter Twelve
Friday didn’t look up from the soles of the feet in front of her. Not once. Her terror at the thought of moving even an inch off the path he’d designated kept her mind firmly on the man in front of her.
“You doing okay back there?” Striker didn’t sound stressed or bothered by their dangerous journey.
“Fine,” was all she could manage to say.
Sweat poured off her body, pooling in the low points of her suit. She was sticky, hot, and the air was oppressive. She had to keep reminding herself that she could breathe and that her circumstances wouldn’t last forever. It was a fight to keep her mind from wandering. The red glow, caused by the light from their suits bouncing off the mist, made her want to turn and look into the cloud. Questions. She had so many questions. There were few people on the planet who had managed to get this close to the red cloud. Her scientist’s brain wanted to study it and find answers to the mysteries it held.
“Don’t get distracted.” The words made her already-warm face blush.
“Trust me, the last thing I want to do in here is get distracted.” Although it was increasingly difficult not to let her mind wander.
“You might not want to, but that big brain of yours must be buzzing by now. I’m surprised you aren’t asking about a million questions.”
It amazed her to hear amusement in his tone. “I’m trying not to die.”
“Yeah, that will focus a person.”
They carried on. Her head bent, her eyes firmly fixed on the ground beneath her and the man in front of her.
“Okay,” he said. “You can stand now.”
She was still afraid to move. “Can I put my head up?”
“Chère, you have to, if you want to stand.” There was a grin in his voice.
Fantastic. They were in a death trap, and he was teasing her.
Slowly, cautiously, Friday lifted her head and looked up the body of the man standing in front of her. He held out a hand.
“You’ll be stiff from crawling so long. Let me help you up.”
She took his hand, grateful for his aid, and he tugged her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her while she steadied. “You good now?”
“Yes.” Safe in his arms, she looked around her for the first time since entering the Red Zone and her knees gave way.
His hold tightened. “Like when Moses parted the Red Sea. Only it’s literally red, and instead of walls of water on either side of us, we’ve got deadly mist.”
“You think you’re Moses?”
Her attention remained focused on the red mist. It was a deep red, like dried blood. The consisten
cy varied. In the thinner places, she could make out hazy shapes, but they weren’t clear enough for Friday to tell what they were. In other parts, the red mist was so thick, it was a solid wall of impenetrable fog. There was a stillness to it, an oppressive heaviness weighted with foreboding. She peered closer at the section nearest her. It seemed to glimmer when it caught the light.
“Mesmerizing, ain’t it?”
“I swear,” she mumbled, “you can almost see patterns in it.”
“Bébé, you stare at it long enough and you can see anything you like in it.”
She reluctantly pulled her gaze from the mist to look up at her protector. “Someone could lose themself completely staring into it.”
For a moment, they stood there in the red glow, looking at each other. It was as though they were the only two people on the planet.
Striker cleared his throat and stepped back from her, although he kept his hands on her arms. “We need to move out. You dehydrate fast in that suit and I’d rather we didn’t have to remove the mask to get some water into you.”
“Of course.”
She let her hands drop to her sides and waited for further instructions.
He wasn’t slow in providing them. “I’m gonna turn. Hold on to my belt. Stay close. We’ll move at a faster pace now we can walk.”
She nodded as weariness began to overtake her. She’d barely slept since she’d run from CommTECH. Only adrenaline kept her going, and now she could feel her body shake as it worked its way out of her system.
“I understand,” she said, to make it clear she was listening. “But once we’re out of here, I need to find somewhere to nap for a couple of hours.”
“I know a place.” Of course he did. The smuggler-for-hire was a master at preparation.
They walked in silence for a long time. Friday lost track of exactly how long. Time didn’t seem to exist in the Red Zone. There was only the mist, closing in on them, swallowing them whole. The red walls on either side of them went up far into the sky. If she looked up, she could see a strip of black night above her. Other than that, it was one long, endless sea of red. The unchanging surroundings were almost hypnotic, and she found it hard to keep her eyes open. She stumbled, falling against Striker’s back.
“You okay?”
“Sorry. I’m tired.” And it felt like the inside of her suit had turned into a sauna.
“Hold it together. Not long until we get to camp.”
“Camp?” The red mist seemed to swirl in closer, disorientating her with its shifting patterns.
“Sleep. Water. Cold shower. Sound good?” He moved around until he stood behind her, supporting her with his hands on her waist. Not that she could feel them properly through the thick layers of her protective suit. “Just hold on. We’re nearly there. I’ll keep you on the path.”
“I’m okay,” she protested.
The air inside the suit was thick and hot. Her mouth was dry, and the world seemed to tilt with each heavy step she took.
“Five more minutes.” Striker’s voice seemed to come from very far away. “You can do it. We’re nearly there, bébé. Just put one foot in front of the other. I’ll do the rest; don’t you worry none.”
“I’m fine.” Did her words sound sluggish? Had she even said them aloud. She couldn’t remember, so she said them again. “I’m fine.”
“Base,” he snapped the word. “Come in base. I’m coming in hot. Package is dehydrated and disorientated. Medical assistance needed.”
“Base here,” a voice she didn’t recognize echoed through her helmet. “What’s your ETA?”
“Eight minutes. We’re in the northern channel.”
His words weren’t making any sense, and she tuned them out. Instead, she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as the red mist sparkled and shifted in the light.
“Sending assistance,” the strange voice said. “Doc is on his way. ETA two minutes.”
“It’s so pretty,” she said. “Like a cloud at sunset.”
There was a pause. “That her?” the strange voice said.
Friday no longer cared what the voices in her head were talking about. She only cared about the beautiful swirling mist.
“Yeah, that’s her. She’s losing it.” Striker moved to stand beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her up.
Surely the path wasn’t wide enough for them to stand side by side. She looked sideways at Striker, and everything within her exploded in a rush of pure, ferocious terror.
His arm was in the mist.
“No!” Her scream was ear-shattering in the confines of her helmet.
She lunged forward, pulling his arm back. Her foot slipped. She lost her balance. Striker’s hold tightened on her, but not before her gloved hand and part of her forearm plunged into the red swirling haze.
“Fuck!” His voice was a roar. “She touched the mist!”
Chapter Thirteen
“Doc?” Striker heard the quaver in his voice but couldn’t stop it.
He lowered Friday to the ground and ripped off their masks.
“You got this,” Doc said through the comm unit in his ear. “I’m two minutes away. I have an IV. How big an area was contaminated?”
He pulled the glove off the hand that had gone into the mist. Her fingers had a dusting of red on them. The mist had already made its way through the thick material. He tossed the glove aside and frantically yanked at the fasteners on her suit.
“I think it’s only her hand and arm.”
“Get everything off.”
“On it.”
She groaned as he shifted her body in order to strip the suit from her. Curses he hadn’t used since he was a kid playing on the bayou poured from his lips. The layers of protective clothing were necessary but there were too many of them. It took endless seconds to get past the protective suit, and the jumpsuit beneath it. His eye ran over her body, relieved to see that the damage had been contained to only one arm.
“We’ve got red mist sitting on her hand and arm. The hand’s taken the worst of it.”
“You know what to do.” Doc’s voice was steady. “Get started. I’m nearly on you and I’ll help once I get the IV hooked up.”
“You need…get…help.” Her weak voice made his eyes shoot to her face.
“It’s gonna be okay, bébé. I promise you.”
“No!” Her contamination-free hand reached out and grabbed his wrist, her grip weak. “Get help for you. You need to get the red off you. You need to survive.”
He trailed a finger down her cheek. “Don’t worry ’bout me. I’m fine, me. We’re gonna get you sorted.”
He lifted her contaminated hand to his mouth.
“No! Don’t. It isn’t safe.” She struggled against him.
“Stop! You need to lie still.” He couldn’t get through to her. All she could hear was her own panic. “Doc, she’s losing it. She’s going to hit the mist again at this rate.”
“I’m here.” The team medic slid to his knees beside them. “I’ll hold her. You get rid of the red.” His face paled when he saw how much of it coated Friday’s arm. “Hurry!” He leaned forward and used his body to pin her chest and flailing arm to the dirt.
“No! No!” There were tears streaming down her cheeks as she pleaded with Doc. “Help Striker. He was in the mist. You need to help him. He said there was time. Please”—she sobbed—“please.”
“Damn it, man, get on with it.” Doc looked traumatized by her distress.
The barrier cream Doc had developed would buy them a couple of minutes at most. Holding Friday’s hand tight, he lifted it to his face and licked the red mist off her skin.
The horror and distress, in her eyes was almost too much to bear. “You can’t! I’m not worth dying for. Make him stop!” she pleaded with Doc.
“I can knock her out.” Doc’s voice was strained.
“Can’t,” Striker said around licking the red mist off her skin, making sure he didn’t miss any, knowin
g his saliva would counteract any trace amounts that were left behind. “Interferan-X remember?”
Their medic cursed as he pressed down on Friday, keeping her immobile. Suddenly, her eyes rolled back, and she went limp. Striker felt the bottom fall out of his stomach.
“She’s not—” He couldn’t even finish the question.
Doc checked for a pulse. “She passed out. I’ll hook up an IV line while you finish up.”
There was no time to lose. He focused on cleaning her skin, one tiny inch at a time, grateful the mist had only touched a small area of her body. He was also irrationally grateful that he didn’t need any help to remove the red from her skin. He only wanted his mouth on Friday, no matter what the circumstances. And that made him feel like a complete bastard.
His eye stayed on her face as he worked. She was pale, far too pale. She looked almost peaceful, lying there. The kind of peace reserved for death.
A flash of panic raced through him. “You sure she’s okay?”
“Yeah.” Doc held the bag of fluids high above her, the line from it feeding into her arm. “I don’t think this is a reaction to the mist. I think it’s a combination of exhaustion, dehydration, and whatever the hell that poison she took is doing to her insides.”
Striker licked off the last of the residue and began checking every inch of visible skin, to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. “I thought the Interferan lay dormant, sealing off her implants until it activated days later?”
“I thought so, too, but it isn’t my area of expertise.” The medic rubbed the back of his neck. “Nothing in this new world is my area of expertise. I’m making things up as I go.”
“We all are.” He checked Friday’s arm one last time. There was no telltale discoloration of the skin that would let him know the red mist had been absorbed. They’d got to it in time.
“She’s okay, we got it. She’s okay.” His hands trembled as he gathered her to him.
Red Zone Page 8
