Danger's Halo: (Holly Danger Book 1)

by Amanda Carlson

  He scowled, tugging the first drenched and completely unrecognizable gauze strips out of his nose. They resembled nothing more than two big globs of clotted blood. Then he discarded the gross mess inside a used medi-towel.

  In fascination, I watched as the chemicals in the towel consumed the blood from the gauze, leaving it white again in less than twenty seconds. The medi-towel, however, was a deep scarlet, almost overflowing onto the table it was so full. It was hard to believe all that blood could be absorbed by that thin towelette. The wonders of science. To think of where the world should be now, compared to where it actually was, remained heartbreaking.

  Once Case had shoved in the new gauze and mopped his face with yet another towel, including his neck, he swept all the bio-waste up into his hand and stood, walking over to a steel trash bin. When he had disposed of everything, he opened the cooling unit. “You want something?”

  “I’ll take water.” He brought over a jug and two carbon molded cups, setting them on the tech table, and sat. I eyed him while he poured the clear liquid. He was taller than Bender, but leaner. He was in expert shape, his leg muscles taut and well-defined, straining his old, faded military fatigues as he sat. He was used to living the hard life and surviving, and it showed. His dark brown hair was longish, cut indiscriminately. His skin had a brown hue. Stubble darkened his chin, indicating he’d been on the road for a few days at least. His jaw was square and stubborn, much like his current expression.

  I peeled off my gloves, one at a time, juggling my Gem, and stuffed them into my pockets. Then I picked up the cup and brought it to my lips, relishing the cold water as it hit the back of my throat. Once I was done, I set it down, bracing my elbows on my thighs. The Gem wasn’t raised, but I wasn’t holstering it anytime soon. “You know, Case, you’ve only answered a third of my questions. We haven’t even scratched the surface. This would go much faster if you would speak more than five words at a time. How’d you find out about this place?” I glanced around. It was clear officials from the city had no idea this existed, or all the supplies would’ve been long gone. “You’re ex-militia, aren’t you?” It wasn’t really a question. His fatigues, the Q7, and access to this location said it all.

  He sat back, assessing me. His eyes gave him away. They compressed at the corners, giving me my answer. He needed a better poker face. “Who said ex?”

  Now we were getting someplace, although that was only three words. “You’re part of an active militia group in South Carolina? You told me you were an outskirt. Which is it?” The militia was the law-and-order setup in any surviving town.

  An outskirt ignored the rules. The militia enforced them.

  “Both.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Listen, asshole, you dragged me out of that residence, dropped me out a second-story window, and forced me here against my will when I wanted to go home. You know all about Tandor. This entire mess clearly involves me, or he wouldn’t have put the kid up to double-crossing me. Keep talking.”

  I hated that I’d been duped.

  God, that hadn’t happened in so long.

  “I didn’t drag you out, I saved you. Tandor’s men would’ve killed you on sight.”

  I relaxed back into the couch, crossing my legs—my fully operational and mostly pain-free gams. They ached a little from the drop, but at least I wasn’t limping. “Why me? Why take the trouble to set up, and potentially kill, a salvager?”

  His gray eyes pierced mine. The hairs on my arms started to rise. “That’s not who you are.”

  “What are you talking about?” I uncrossed my legs, sitting up abruptly. There would be no relaxing. “Stop wasting my time. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. If you’re trying to convince me that we’re on the same team, tell me what you have on this creep so I can figure out what needs to be done about it. Instead of leading me around in fucking circles.”

  “This creep intends to take over the city, and he wants each and every person who could stand in his way eliminated first. He knows about you, and your group, and the power it wields. He wants you gone, and he went for the advantage. He led you to Daze’s home, so he could orchestrate things his own way.”

  I had to make an effort to shut my mouth, since it’d tumbled open a little. “But you got in the way of his plans.”

  “I got in his way.”

  “And what does he intend to do once he takes over the city?”

  Case shrugged, taking another gulp from his cup, then refilling it from the depleted jug. “My guess, from most of his rantings, is he wants to enslave the population so he can control all of the resources, which he will happily share with only his disciples.”

  “Enslave them how?”

  “Infect them all with Plush.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “So, let me get this straight.” We were a solid twenty minutes into discussing Tandor, and I had begun to pace. I’d made it from the sitting area to a crate of dry-ionized meals toward the back. Just add water and, presto, you had a protein cake—or, more aptly, protein slush. “Tandor has gathered enough bodies and weaponry to take over the city already?” My voice projected just fine in this space. “Then why hasn’t he already done so? He’s been here at least two months.”

  “He’s patient.” Case sat where I’d left him on the couch, his head back, eyes closed. He hadn’t moved, nor had he taken a numbing agent. He was in more pain than he was letting on. “He’s willing to wait and get it right. Once your group is gone, he moves. He knows how the government operates, and he has people on the inside.”

  This was big news. I refrained from grabbing my head in between my open palms in frustration. I spun around and made my way back to the couches. “I have to warn my friends. They have no idea this guy is after us or what he’s capable of.” From what Case had described, this Tandor guy was a freak and a zealot. He’d preached a better life for his followers—at the expense of everyone else.

  This wasn’t the first or last time the city would encounter such an issue. People in despair were susceptible to influence, and this line of thinking catered to people who cared only about their singular, insular existences. It fed that part of them that frantically wished life could be better than they actually knew was achievable.

  “They already know.” His voice was strained, more gravelly than it’d been an hour ago. He needed sleep.

  “Why do you say that?” I came to a stop behind him.

  “Because if they have any smarts at all, they’ve investigated what just happened in Port Station. Now that Tandor has shown his hand, he has no choice but to move quickly.”

  I dug in my vest pocket for my tech phone, pulled it out. “It’s Ella.” I let go of the button and pressed it again. “It’s Ella. Anyone there?”

  “The signal can’t penetrate these walls.”

  “Then I’ll go outside.” I moved toward the door.

  “Still won’t work. We’re too far out. No signal amps anywhere near here.”

  I spun around midstride, my arms flapping. Abject agitation was closing in. “Why in the hell did you bring me here? My family is in danger. I have to go back.”

  Case lifted his head off the cushion, barely opening his eyes. “If you go now, you’ll walk into a trap. He’s expecting you to react emotionally.”

  “I’m not emotional!”

  I was, bar none, the most emotional I’d been since the day I’d held my mother’s hand as she’d taken her last breath. Goddammit, I didn’t do loss well.

  “Are your friends smart?” Case asked, leaning forward, cocking his head from side to side as he ran his hand around the back of his neck.

  “Of course.” I was offended.

  “Then they’ve already taken the necessary precautions. And if they care about you, they’re happy you’re out of the city at the moment. You can contact them in the morning.” He stood and limped toward the sleeping pods.

  “That’s it?” I called after his retreating back. “We just bunk up here safe and
sound while a lunatic child-slavery zealot takes over my city?” And kidnaps my kid.

  Not my kid. Never my kid.

  And he wasn’t kidnapped, if what Case had told me was true, he was a conspirator.

  Fuck.

  I followed Case as he shuffled to the pod, the one with the lid already open, and climbed inside. Leaning against the one next to his, I pointedly ignored his wish for peace and quiet as he draped an arm over his eyes. “Last night, did you track the kid and me all the way back to my residence?”

  “No. The beacon stopped transmitting in a building by the canals. The signal location was too secure. I couldn’t breach it.”

  Damn straight it was secure.

  The tracker must’ve come off when I made Daze don the helmet. I was momentarily confused. “If Daze was working for Tandor, why were you tracking him? It should’ve been Tandor’s people after me.”

  “I stole the receiver.”

  I allowed my eyes to roam over the mystery man whom I still knew next to nothing about. He was militia and a self-proclaimed outskirt. He was from the South, had access to this space, and he wasn’t worried about much of anything, judging by his laid-back attitude. Tandor had harmed someone Case loved, so he was here to exact his revenge.

  As if sensing my scrutiny, he mumbled, “We’ll come up with something in the morning. Go to sleep.” He rolled, turning his back to me.

  Reluctantly, with nothing else to do, I opened up the pod next to his and got in. The barracks seemed fairly secure, but I had no idea if this guy was telling me the truth about anything. I also didn’t know if he would try to harm me during the night, so I curled one hand around my Gem and eased the taser out of its holster with the other. I crossed them on my chest.

  I was a light sleeper when I needed to be. If Case decided to try any shit, I’d be ready.

  My mind buzzed as I lowered the lid. The things I’d learned in the last hour had been intense. I was in trouble, my team was in trouble, my city was in trouble. And throughout it all, I’d been clueless.

  Foolish didn’t even come close.

  Agreeing to sustainer a street kid within ten minutes of meeting him proved I’d lost my mind. “Next time, I’m going to trust my gut,” I grumbled.

  What was I talking about?

  There wouldn’t be a next time.

  * * *

  I blinked. Nothing felt familiar.

  But I didn’t panic.

  This had happened to me before. Many times. Living in this world was always disorienting.

  Then it all came flooding back. Port Station, Daze, Tandor, Case, barracks, picos, and quantum drives.

  In a rush of pissed-off energy, I rose from the pod, shoving it open with my elbow and the aid of my foot, my hands still curled around my weapons. Once I was out, I shut it and set the weapons on the top with a clatter, massaging my palms, encouraging the feeling to come back. I flipped my wrists back and forth as I turned, stopping midflick. Case was seated at a table, forking something out of a bag. “What? They could’ve squeezed a trigger just fine.”

  “Whatever.”

  I holstered the taser, but kept the Gem out. I wasn’t ready to trust yet. It would be a while. If ever. “Let’s go.”

  He stood without argument, carrying his empty container to the trash. After he dumped the contents, he kicked on the button, and the thing gurgled, dicing everything into fine dust in seconds. “I’m assuming you have a way into the city without being seen.”

  I didn’t need to answer the obvious.

  Instead, I glanced around. “How did you find out about this place? Everything seems to be in working order, except that tech table, but there are a ton of rations.” I walked over to a crate and picked up a bag lying on top. I held up the package. It was a little bigger than my palm and filled with dried flakes. “This has a date before the dark days.” I rifled through at least ten more. They all had the same date. “This should all be gone. It’s been years.” I dropped the one I held back on the pile. “I don’t get it.”

  Case shrugged on his trench. It was similar to Lockland’s, except Case’s was well worn, shorter, and made of some type of canvas, not synthetic. I assumed it was old military, like everything else. He headed toward the door. He was barely limping. It seemed he was a quick healer. “This place was shown to me a few years back. As far as I know, nobody else knows of its existence.”

  I followed him out. He was in the hallway before I caught up. “The government sweeps this coast.” At least, I thought it did. “They should’ve seen it.”

  “It’s been covered in sand for over fifty years. Only a small passage free. It’s been cleared out by weather in the last ten.” We reached the outer door. Case heaved the deadbolt, leaning his shoulder against the wall to get leverage. It finally popped out of its catches, but not without a few grunts of effort. “The government doesn’t come out here now. There aren’t enough people to spare since the boats left.” Case engaged the lever on the wall.

  The moment the door creaked open, the crashing of the waves deafened me and the overpowering smell of salt permeated the air. I had to refrain from settling my hands over my ears to block out the sound like a child. It was both terrifying and wondrous. Seeing the ocean up close and personal, it was hard to believe The Water Initiative had ever worked.

  Case placed both his palms on the door and pushed, his body straining. He managed to get it open enough for us to slip through. “How many times have you been here?” I had to shout over the din. The sky was brighter than usual, making it easier to see. That happened on some days. I made my way around the side of the Q7, my hand trailing along the craft to keep me rooted. The coolness of the molded carbon under my fingertips felt safe. The power and sheer magnitude of the sea made me feel small and insignificant. My eyes tracked to the shoreline as the waves arced up in a beautiful dance, the water murky and dark, turbulent and wild, crashing down in an instant. The sound was like a hydro-bomb exploding at short range, only to be sucked back into the abyss, never ceasing, the dance beginning all over again.

  It was amazing to me that Earth could take so much abuse and not crack, the ground opening beneath the constant battering, swallowing us once and for all.

  Behind me, Case entered the craft.

  With reluctance, I forced my gaze away from the sea. Case had parked in a remnant of what used to be another room of the bunker. Heaps of sand were piled in various corners, backing up Case’s story about it being covered up for all those years. The entire front end of the building had been destroyed. A tidal wave of tsunami proportions was my guess. Maybe more than one.

  In order to see us, another craft would have had to be positioned out front, above the ocean. Since most crafts wouldn’t venture out there, for fear of wind shear and updraft, it was a great hiding spot.

  Perfect, really.

  I lifted the door and slid into the seat, jamming my arms through the shoulder harness, clipping it in front of me. After the ride last night, I was anticipating some twists and turns. And who was I if I didn’t follow my own advice? Thinking of Daze pissed me off all over again.

  Case started the props and backed us out, spinning and lofting us into the air efficiently. The wind caused slight turbulence, but overall it wasn’t a problem.

  It was clear Case was an excellent pilot.

  Most people couldn’t fly a dronecraft smoothly. Keeping things steady was an art form. It took concentration and input from both halves of your brain, your hands working the levers in tandem. If you overcompensated on either pitch or roll, you died in a fiery crash. Back before the dark days, crafts were flown exclusively on autopilot, monitored constantly by satellites. Dronecraft had elaborate computer systems, which were continuously being updated via the sky. People had, in every aspect of their lives, given themselves over to sophisticated systems and tech. Accidents by any flying craft almost never happened. It must’ve been a happy world with nothing much to worry about.

  “Where to?” Case asked.
The main entrance to the city was open, but it would be monitored.

  “You’re dropping me off outside, and I’m making my way in on my own,” I countered.

  “Bullshit.”

  I gave him a look. A cross between irritation and contempt. “I’m not compromising anything to you. Getting you in by a secret route would do just that.”

  “I saved your life last night.”

  “The hell you did. You tossed me out a window. I could’ve taken on whoever was coming up the stairs and gotten to my craft. You fucked me over, and I could’ve broken my neck. I owe you nothing.”

  “Fine. You fly and blindfold me. You reveal nothing.”

  “I can’t recover Luce until blackout.” I wondered if my craft was even still there. They could’ve blown her up by now. Or Tandor’s henchmen could’ve stripped her down. They wouldn’t have gotten very far, but still. She could be irreparably damaged.

  He sighed. “I’m talking about you flying this.” Case buzzed us over a thick forest of twisted trees, branches bare, aching to feel the sunshine on their blackened skin once again. I didn’t recognize the area, but I knew we were east.

  We had a hidden entrance on the east side of the city. I rested my leg on the middle console. There was never enough room in these things. “You want me to fly your Q7? You can’t be serious.”

  “Deadly.”

  “That means you’re assuming I can pilot this thing, no questions asked.” I could. That wasn’t even up for debate. But this guy didn’t know that. Each dronecraft had its own nuances. If he’d seen Daze and me at the gorge, and by his own admission, he had been tracking me, he knew I flew an A1.