by Kyla Stone
“Unless you want to be cold-cocked again,” Willow said, “I’d advise you to shut the hell up. Do not speak. Do not make a single sound suggestive of internal thought.”
Mercifully, Horne fell silent.
“Less talking, more ass-moving.” Cleo gestured toward a steel door at the end of the long corridor. “That way.”
Willow and the others followed Cleo. She and Micah stayed close to Gabriel. Silas took up the rear. Finn grabbed Benjie with his uninjured hand.
Celeste took a few steps and stumbled. She put her hand on the wall to steady herself. “I’m fine.”
She clearly wasn’t. “Oh, hell. Come on.” Willow rolled her eyes but offered her arm. Celeste rested her forearm on her shoulder, using her like a crutch.
“Don’t say a word,” Willow growled.
Celeste pursed her lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Horne hobbled along behind them, holding his broken nose and moaning. No one offered to help him.
“What about weapons?” Silas asked, his hostility slightly subdued now that they were actually getting out of this hellhole. Maybe.
Cleo signaled to Li Jun. As they walked, he pulled several knives, guns, and ammo packs from the canvas bag. “I have access to the armory, but the guards wouldn’t let me take more than our allotted four rifles in addition to mine and Li Jun’s. The pulse guns were already checked out. Who can fight?”
Gabriel, Silas, and Micah raised their hand. Willow raised her free arm.
Cleo shot her a dubious look. “You? Aren’t you, like, ten?”
Willow gritted her teeth, the wound on her neck pulsing. “Look, you little—”
“She can handle herself,” Silas said. His face was impassive, but he watched Cleo’s every movement with razor sharpness. He hated her, too. Another thing they had in common.
Willow gave him a grateful look as she bit back her anger. She held out her hand for a weapon. Li Jun gave her a small handgun. Gabriel, Silas, and Micah received semi-automatic rifles with two extra magazines.
Yuan handed them each a small, round object the size of the head of a thumbtack. “These are comms. Stick them inside your ears. I’ve already set up a secure channel. The Pyros could hack it fairly easily, but by the time they think of it, we should be long gone.”
Willow put in the comm and slipped the gun into her holster. She planned to use it on Cleo the first chance she got. They needed her to get out of the building. But once they were clear … all bets were off. “Just how are we getting out of here?”
“The only way we can. We’re going under.”
Beside her, Finn stiffened. “Under like under the city? Through the sewers?”
It took a moment for Finn’s words to sink in. A tremor went through her. “As in, the home of millions of rats on a good day? I thought you were trying to rescue us, not get us eaten alive by little mutant monsters.”
“Plans changed,” Cleo said. “Plan A was to sneak out the south entrance while Rodgers took his twice-nightly twenty-minute dump. Plan B was to stun or kill a few of the guards if we needed to, but there’s too many for us to surprise. Moruga sent extra security. He’s a half-crazed pyromaniac, but he’s not stupid.” She glanced at Amelia. “He knows how valuable you are. He probably suspects one of his own people might try to steal you and sell you to the Sanctuary themselves to pocket the profit. We have no choice. We’re moving to plan C.”
Willow’s stomach sank. “How are we going to make it through the sewers? Have you seen how fast those rats move?”
“Rats are very intelligent creatures,” Li Jun said cheerfully. “Some say they’re as smart as dogs. Their social hierarchy is close to ours. Their eyesight isn’t great, but once they learn a navigation route, they never forget. They can communicate through sound frequencies humans can’t hear. Some of the reasons they make both excellent pets and research subjects—”
“In other words, we’re dead meat,” Willow said. Celeste’s bony elbow dug into her shoulder. She gritted her teeth as they passed a few dozen doors on either side of the corridor, all closed.
“We’re gonna scare them away.” Cleo’s tone was matter-of-fact, without a hint of anxiety or concern. She either truly didn’t get the danger they were about to leap into, or she really was a sociopath.
Willow voted for sociopath. “The only thing those freak rodents are scared of is fire.”
Cleo paused at the top of the stairwell. She pulled a long object out of the canvas bag on the hover cart and hefted it with a wicked smile. “Which is why we brought flamethrowers.”
27
Amelia
Amelia and the others raced down the first set of stairs without encountering any obstacles. In her right hand, she gripped the flamethrower Li Jun had given her, a sleek white weapon with twin top-mounted canisters, a propane tank in front, napalm behind it.
They’d left Apollo on the seventh floor, sitting at the top of the stairs, its tail twitching, placidly waiting for someone to fetch him. Since the other Pyros knew he wasn’t dangerous, the lion no longer served a purpose.
“And he eats like an elephant,” Li Jun said. “Try scavenging food for six of them.”
At the landing of the third floor, Cleo and Li Jun paused to check their SmartFlex building schematics. “Four guards just hit the second floor.”
“Should we go back up?” Amelia adjusted her grip on the flamethrower. Cleo had brought four of them—one for herself, Li Jun, Amelia, and Willow. She had no real idea how to use it. Would it be enough once they’d reached the sewers? Could they really hold off the infected rats? But there was no time to second-guess their plan.
“The drones are too close,” Cleo said. “They’re one floor up and checking the second to last door. They’ll scan this stairwell within thirty seconds.”
“The third floor it is.” Gabriel moved ahead of them and opened the steel-reinforced door. Everyone rushed through as quickly and silently as possible.
Just as Gabriel closed the stairwell door behind them, a sound came from the second floor. The bang of a heavy door closing.
“Hostiles on the second floor,” Gabriel whispered. “It won’t take them long to clear it, then they’ll head up to us.”
‘What now?” Amelia tried not to panic, tried to control her rapid breathing. That old familiar fear swelled inside her, coating her insides. The fear that made her useless and weak.
“Give me a second,” Cleo snapped.
Amelia and Willow exchanged nervous glances. Celeste leaned heavily on Willow’s shoulder, her features rigid with pain. She felt every second of passing time like a bomb ticking. “We don’t have all day,” Willow said.
Cleo turned in a slow circle and finally pointed. “There’s another stairwell at the opposite end of the building, but it doesn’t take us where we need to go. It accesses the main level reception area, but not the basement.”
“We can cross the skybridge to get to the Hyatt,” Li Jun said. “The lobby elevators go to a basement storage area with sewer access.”
Cleo swore again. “Too many drones. A single alert ping and they’ll shoot to kill.”
Yuan shook his head. “Those drones only monitor the hotel’s perimeter. They’re programmed to protect the outside, not the inside. Plus, Moruga has dozens of guards at street level, but there’s only two on each end of the skybridge.”
“And we can reach the skybridge from the third floor.” Cleo studied the schematics with a fierce frown. “It’s the best we can do.”
She glanced up at Gabriel, her gaze hard and calculating. “You’re a New Patriot. You know your way around a combat zone, yeah?”
Gabriel tightened his grip on his weapon. “Of course.”
She jerked her chin at Li Jun. “He’s merely adequate. I need someone to take point with me.”
“I’m not offended at all,” Li Jun said, sounding more exasperated than angry.
“I’m a better shot than he is,” Silas said indignantly from behind t
hem.
Cleo shook her head. “I don’t trust any of you. At least I know what I’m getting with him.”
Gabriel glanced at Amelia, his eyes dark and unreadable. “You okay?”
Her heart beat with frenzied wings inside her chest. Her body buzzed, her fingers tingling, hands shaking. It was like she was back on the ship again, trapped in the Oceanarium, trapped with nowhere to run.
Gabriel was looking at her the way he had back on the Grand Voyager, like he was drowning and only she could save him, like he was falling and only she could catch him. “Amelia.”
“Yes,” she managed, her throat thickening.
“I’ll stay with Amelia,” Micah said.
A look passed between the brothers. Gabriel nodded tightly, the muscle in his jaw bulging. He was protective of her. They both were. In this moment, surrounded by enemies, with panic and gut-wrenching fear threatening to undo her, she was grateful for it.
“I’m fine, too,” Finn mumbled. “Thanks for asking.”
“We can do this,” she said as much to herself as Gabriel. She couldn’t let the fear win, couldn’t let it control her like it had all those years she’d cowered before her father’s cruelty and contempt. She was stronger than that now. She took a breath, steeling herself. “We’re not made of glass.”
Gabriel nodded curtly.
“Stop picking your asses and move,” Cleo called over her shoulder.
They sprinted down the corridor. Her legs felt like lead, but she forced them to move. “Why can’t we go out a back door?”
“Too many guards, and they’ll track us easily in the snow,” Cleo said. “We need the sewers to get us to the subway tunnels, which will get us far enough away from headquarters that we can slip back to the surface without being seen—or tracked. Then we use the AirTrain track to get to our rendezvous point.”
They hesitated outside the cafeteria double doors. Gabriel and Cleo cleared it, then gestured for the others to follow. Micah held the door open for them. Willow helped Celeste hobble through, then Amelia followed.
The cafeteria was enormous, with high, wood-beamed ceilings and white-washed walls. The dozens of tables and chairs were made of transparent polymers, so that at first glance the room appeared sparse and empty.
A sudden sound stilled her breath.
“Little piggy, little piggy, come out, come out, wherever you are!” Sykes’s eerie voice filled the cavernous room. It echoed off the walls, the ceiling, the polished floor. It seemed to come from all directions at once.
Gabriel, Micah, Silas, and Cleo dropped into crouches. They spun in different directions, guns up, sighting for movement.
Amelia twisted, frantically searching for the source of the voice. There was nothing to see. White walls. Whiter floor. Several white doors opened to a kitchen and more corridors led deeper inside the building. There was no one there. And there was nowhere to hide. “Where is he?”
“He must have jacked his comms into the sound system,” Cleo said.
“He’s not on the map.” Li Jun studied the biometric sensor map projecting from the SmartFlex, his voice rising. “He deactivated his tracker. He knows it’s us.”
“Relax,” Cleo said tightly. “He knows it’s someone on the inside, he doesn’t know who.”
“Now they’ve all dropped their trackers,” Li Jun said in growing horror. “We don’t have any way of knowing where they are or how close—”
“Don’t make me blow your house down,” Sykes boomed over the sound system.
Amelia’s blood went cold. It was like Kane all over again. Kane taunting her, stalking her. Kane’s hands snaking around her throat, squeezing, squeezing until she couldn’t breathe, until blackness swirled at the edges of her vision. Kane’s crazed, viper eyes and leering, vicious grin looming over her—
“Amelia,” Willow reached back, squeezing her arm.
Amelia blinked back to the present, shaken and dazed.
“You’ve survived worse than this,” Willow hissed. “Get it together.”
She nodded, hesitantly at first, then harder. Willow was right. Her own fear was her greatest threat, her greatest weakness. Her fear made her forget. She was a survivor. She’d outlasted Kane. Simeon. The sinking of the Grand Voyager. The Hydra virus. Sweet Creek Farm. Cerberus. The fire. And now, she would survive the Pyros.
She was the girl who lived.
She didn’t have a free hand to touch her charm bracelet, but she felt its comfort around her neck anyway. She pushed her fear deep down and concentrated on the present, channeling all of her focus on getting out of this place alive.
Cleo raised her finger to her lips. She pointed across the cafeteria, toward a door standing ajar. From the cafeteria windows, Amelia could see the transparent skybridge arcing over the six-lane road three stories below. It was still dark outside, but the Hyatt Renaissance across the street was lit up like a Christmas tree.
Cleo gave the signal, and they hurried across the cafeteria, Willow and Celeste beside her, Micah directly ahead. They wove between the round tables, careful not to knock over the chairs.
Amelia tripped on a chair leg. She lurched, her limbs flailing.
She pitched forward, sure she was going to fall, that the noise would draw the enemy, that it would all be over—
Celeste snaked out her hand and seized Amelia’s arm, jerking her back. The flamethrower hovered above a chair’s hard plastic seat, threatening to fall. With a muffled curse, Celeste managed to pull her to her feet.
She sucked in her breath. That was far too close. She shot Celeste a grateful, relieved glance. Willow rolled her eyes and tugged Celeste along.
Everyone paused, waiting for Cleo. Amelia hardly breathed as she focused on the glowing, rotating map over Cleo’s right arm. The red light of the drone blinked just outside the cafeteria.
“Get down!” Gabriel hissed.
Amelia ducked. She, Willow, and Celeste huddled against the wall to the left of the door. Celeste winced as she bent her wounded leg, but she didn’t make a sound.
If the drone spotted them, it would send an alert to every other drone on its network as well as the guards’ comms. Even if Gabriel or Cleo shot it down before it could injure anyone, it wouldn’t be fast enough to stop the signal.
Above them, the lion roared. Even three floors away, the powerful sound vibrated inside her chest. Someone had found Apollo, which meant they’d found the empty jail cell.
They were running out of time.
28
Gabriel
Gabriel wiped his sweating palms on his pant legs.
After an eternity, the drone finally moved away from the cafeteria toward the third-floor stairwell, drawn by Apollo’s roar. He let out a relieved breath.
Cleo gave the signal, and they exited the cafeteria through the double doors. A sharp right-turn led to a wide alcove and the skybridge access point. Cleo hugged the wall, Gabriel right beside her. It would be better to sneak up on the guards and attack silently and swiftly with knives, but the element of surprise was not an option. The guards were already on alert. The suppressed rifle Cleo had given him would have to do.
She peeked around the corner and raised two fingers for two guards. One, two, she mouthed.
Three. Gabriel spun around the corner, caught a blur of movement, and aimed and fired as the guard lifted his gun. The guard staggered and fell back, his limp body sliding down the glass window behind him. He didn’t move.
Cleo took out the second guard with two sharp pops to the chest.
“Aren’t they wearing armored vests?” he asked as they rushed onto the skybridge.
Cleo tapped her magazine, grinning like the cat with a canary still stuffed in its mouth. “I made sure I stole the armor-piercing rounds.”
The skybridge was a transparent tunnel forty yards long. They were exposed. Out in the open. Vulnerable. Gabriel’s heart rate jumped as they sprinted over West Peachtree, the road below strewn with the husks of thousands of cars.
> He risked a glance down. On several side streets, cars and transports were crushed to either side, spilling onto the sidewalks. A bulldozer must have rammed a path through them, allowing the Pyros to travel by vehicle through their territory.
“More lions!” Benjie said. “Look, Mister Finn!”
“I see them, Sir Benjie.” Finn placed a hand on Benjie’s shoulder. “Thank goodness they’re friendly kitties like Apollo.”
“Too bad their owners aren’t so friendly,” Silas said.
The Hyatt Renaissance was a magnificent white steel spiral arcing one hundred and thirty-two stories above them. The hotel was a feat of modern ingenuity, one of the last great skyscrapers built in Atlanta over a decade ago—before the developers and investors abandoned it for less disease-plagued, war-torn pastures.
Concrete barriers and barbed wire fences rimmed the perimeter of the hotel. A dozen guards patrolled the area, several of them with enormous lions at their sides. At least two dozen large, armored drones zoomed back and forth, their gun turrets swiveling menacingly.
“The drones won’t detect us,” Gabriel said. Hopefully the Pyros didn’t have some advanced tech he didn’t know about.
“They’re not designed to scan above, only below.” Cleo scrubbed sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm.
She pointed to the northwest corner of the plaza, where six groups of hostiles had formed, two dozen Pyros in each group, all armed to the teeth. A tall, gaunt figure took point. Moruga. They slowly fanned out, heading in all directions.
The Pyros were hunting them. He knew it would happen. Still, the sight of so many enemy combatants in one place chilled him to the core.
“They’re expecting us to run away,” Cleo said, “not run straight into the hornet’s nest.”
He clenched his jaw. He hated having to trust this girl he didn’t know. A Pyro or a New Patriot—either way, she was slippery as hell. He hated not knowing the plan, the layout, every emergency exit, every contingency. He hated his own helplessness. “This is a massive risk.”
