‘Guys, we have company,’ Grace said.
Sophia walked over to her. ‘What sort of company?’
‘I don’t know. They could be ours, they could be hostile.’
Sophia checked the display, then moved her radio pressel from her pocket and clipped it to her T-shirt collar. ‘Anyone in the tunnel between the terminal and Concourse A?’
‘Negative,’ Denton said.
‘No,’ Nasira whispered.
‘Could be resistance,’ Damien said. ‘Good old Colonel Abraham might be making his own moves.’
‘Better them than anyone else.’ Sophia switched channels. ‘This is Sophia. Abraham, do you have any men in the tunnel between the terminal and Concourse A?’
Abraham was quick to reply. ‘Certainly not. And if you aren’t too busy prancing around inside the tunnels perhaps you might consider providing us with some much needed support in Garage West. We have mechanized units pinning us down.’
‘Half my team are already in Garage West.’ Sophia switched channels, not bothering any further with him. ‘Whoever they are, they’re probably hostile,’ she said to Grace and the boys.
‘And they got through quick,’ Grace said. ‘Has DC spoken with a SWAT negotiator yet?’
‘That might be hard,’ Sophia said. ‘He’s now one of the hostages.’
‘Oh,’ Grace said. ‘I missed that part.’
‘We need to deal with the EMP before we can move for the base.’ Sophia turned to Damien and Jay. ‘Where are the shielded radios?’
Damien gestured to his shoulder, then noticed the backpack wasn’t there. ‘Shit,’ he said, his face suddenly red. ‘I left it at the security checkpoint.’
‘We have the weapons,’ Jay said. ‘The important stuff. Don’t you have enough shielded radios?’
‘I only have my own. The rest of us need the radios,’ Sophia said. ‘Stall the hostiles if you can and grab the bag. RV in the corridor to the access tunnel, as we planned.’
Jay nodded. ‘Nothing we can’t handle. What about you?’
Sophia pulled Aviary’s plastic explosives from her bag. ‘I’ll seal the north end of the tunnel.’ Her eyes glinted in the fluorescent light. ‘One way in, one way out.’
* * *
‘This isn’t going exactly to plan,’ Nasira said as she shoved Aviary behind a row of cars.
The Pariahs were prowling the aisle next to them. They fanned out, peppering rounds into the retreating resistance and police officers. In their wake, a scattering of dead and injured resistance and police.
Abraham’s men had abandoned the EMP transmitter at the south end of Garage West to flee from the Pariahs. Nasira and Aviary were at the north end. Problem was, the remaining resistance, police and the Pariahs were battling it out in the space between.
Nasira moved to the next row of cars, pulling Aviary with her. She had her backpack with her, and inside it her kit, which included a tactical shotgun. But she was going to need more than a shotgun to take down one of those Pariahs. She used the butt of the shotgun to smash through the driver’s side window of the oldest car she could find, a faded blue Mazda GLC sedan. The car alarm sounded, alerting the Pariah. She needed to move fast. She climbed in and leaned across, opening the passenger door for Aviary. As soon as Aviary was inside, Nasira handed her the shotgun, then shoved an auto tryout key into the ignition. The engine started, and she reversed the Mazda out.
Ahead of them was the Pariah firefight.
‘Now what do we do?’ Aviary asked.
‘Something we’ll regret.’
Nasira hit the gas. The car screeched over concrete on a collision course with the resistance, police and the Pariahs.
’Look out!’ Aviary screamed. The shotgun dropped into her lap as she pointed at a Pariah emerging in front of them.
The Pariah pivoted away from them, laying down fire at police officers in the next aisle. Empty shells skittered across the ground. Nasira increased her speed.
‘Don’t turn,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t turn.’
The Pariah fired off another burst, then its legs maneuvered around. It was turning. Its headless front angled back, myriad sensors inspecting Nasira in all sorts of pretty wavelengths.
She slammed the gas to the floor. ‘No.’
The Pariah’s M16 barrel lined up with her head. She was almost there.
‘Get down,’ she said.
Aviary ducked, hugging the shotgun with whitened knuckles.
The Pariah opened fire. Rounds punched through the windscreen, cracking the glass. It became a giant spiderweb, difficult to see through. Nasira used the parked cars on either side for guidance while the Pariah readjusted its aim.
She crashed the Mazda into the Pariah. It landed on the hood with a hollow thunk and tumbled over the windscreen. The windscreen caved in, showering them with hundreds of tiny bits of what Nasira hoped to be safety glass. She didn’t have time to brush it off, swerving to correct her direction and tearing the bumpers off three cars.
The Pariah rolled over the top of the Mazda, more rounds punching through the roof as its barrel pivoted wildly. And then it was gone.
‘Are you hurt?’ she asked.
‘I don’t think so,’ Aviary said, re-emerging from her brace position. ‘You’re bleeding.’
‘Where?’
‘Your face.’
Nasira touched her face. Her fingers came away bloody. She’d worry about it later. She was almost there. Almost at the transmitter.
The car that was carrying it was coated in shattered glass and sheathed in smoke. She could see one of Abraham’s men lying facedown on the concrete in a pool of his own blood. In his hand, the transmitter. Just one problem. Two Pariahs blocked her path.
They hadn’t seen her yet and she considered ramming them. But the chances of hitting both at once before they tore the poor little Mazda apart — and her with it — were unlikely. As she watched, rounds smashed into the side of the leftmost Pariah, distracting it. The police were still putting up a fight. Or they were flanked up the shit and trying desperately to push their way through.
Nasira kept on target. With any luck, the Pariahs were distracted and wouldn’t see her coming until it was too late.
The left Pariah swiveled, aimed its rifle at an officer visible to Nasira’s left and opened fire. The officer slumped to the ground. More rounds smacked into both Pariahs. She had to hand it to the police: they were keeping the pressure on. The right-hand Pariah shuddered and sparked, its exoskeleton sagging. It was out of action. The left Pariah retaliated, spraying the aisle of cars on the left flank with more rounds than Nasira thought it could carry. A fresh drum magazine slotted under its rifle and it was good to go again.
Nasira hit the gas harder, aimed for it. It was completely distracted now. But a slight shift in its movement and it saw her coming. The operator whisked the Pariah into an agile jump — right over the hood and over the roof of the Mazda. It scraped the ceiling and landed behind her. This operator was smart, Nasira realized.
She pulled hard on the handbrake, bringing her up broadside with the transmitter. It was on Aviary’s side.
‘Open the door!’ Nasira said.
Aviary stared at her door, immobile. She was freezing up. Not really the best time for that, Nasira thought.
‘Open the door!’ she screamed.
Aviary jerked into action, opened the door. There was still another ten feet between her and the transmitter.
The surviving Pariah turned to face them.
‘Go,’ Nasira said. ‘Get the transmitter!’
Aviary dropped the shotgun in the footwell and stepped out. Nasira saw something flash past from the corner of her vision. She grabbed Aviary’s arm and pulled her back inside just as a Pariah barreled past, smashing into the open door and taking the door with it. Aviary screamed, almost landed on top of Nasira. The Pariah turned to face the Mazda. Its barrel fixed on Nasira.
Nasira hit the gas again and the Mazda lurched toward it. The
Pariah moved nimbly to get clear but one of her tires caught its leg. She slammed the brakes, pinning it there. She checked her left. The other Pariah, the one that was clever enough to jump over her car, was blocked from view, a concrete pillar obscuring its aim. It would only be seconds before it could reposition itself. She had to think of something, and quickly.
The pinned Pariah thrashed around on Aviary’s side of the car. Its rifle pivoted, trying to get a fix on Nasira. Rounds sprayed over her head. She ducked low as some struck the ceiling and others perforated her headrest. The shotgun near Aviary’s feet was right there. Nasira grabbed it.
‘Get the transmitter!’ she whispered.
Aviary, hunched over in her seat, looked wide-eyed at her, then nodded vigorously. Nasira had to shove her in the right direction so she’d stop nodding and actually do it.
The pinned Pariah turned its barrel around, trying to target Aviary as she stepped from the Mazda. Nasira aimed her shotgun at the Pariah’s mounted rifle and fired. The round smacked into the side of the rifle, crunching its working parts inward and almost knocking the weapon clean off its mount.
Nasira turned in her seat, bringing the shotgun over to her window.
The other Pariah appeared, aimed right for her.
Chapter Fifty-Four
The tiny propellers that decorated the tunnel wall started to buzz excitedly with blue fluorescence as Damien jogged past, Jay a few paces behind. They’d crossed halfway from Concourse B to A, dodging the trains Grace had shut down. Somewhere ahead of them, the intruders were approaching. They needed to first identify them and then try to stop or delay them.
Damien stopped suddenly. He could hear something ahead. Something scratching, or scraping, he couldn’t be sure.
‘You hear that?’ he asked.
Jay pulled up beside him and cast a glance ahead into the darkness. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Oh, that’s not good.’
Damien remembered Jay could see things he couldn’t. ‘SWAT?’ he asked.
Jay shook his head. ‘Liberators.’
Remotely controlled by a military operator, the Liberator was a giant spider-like robot — death on four scalpel-sharp legs that could double as bladed weapons if you were unfortunate enough to stray too close. The legs supported a hexagonal armored hull and carbine or support weapon armament that made the Pariahs look like toys.
Damien swallowed. ‘How many?’
‘A lot. Five, no six.’
Jay was already retreating. Now Damien could see tiny red diodes burning through the darkness. He remembered the one piece of advice he’d been given about an encounter with a Liberator. Run.
He turned and broke into a sprint, hot on Jay’s heels. There was a dormant train two hundred feet behind them, on the west track. Jay was moving directly for it. If they could get around to the front of the train they’d be out of view and they’d have cover. They could even hop on the front and ask Grace to move the train and whisk them out of there.
‘Grace!’ Damien said between breaths. ‘We need help!’
‘What sort of help?’ she said calmly.
‘Send a southbound train from Concourse B to A. Whatever’s there!’
‘Southbound … on its way,’ she said.
Damien could see the glint of headlights as the train surged into view. That was quick. He pushed harder, running full tilt across the concrete. Jay was almost at the front of the stationary train on the west track. Meanwhile, Grace’s train was rushing toward them on the east track.
‘Shit!’ Damien wasn’t sure if they’d get in front of the west train in time.
The Liberators were moving faster now. Damien tuned to the sound of their claw-like legs snick-snicking across the concrete at thirty miles per hour. They could outrun him in no time.
Jay jumped out onto the east track, his body illuminated by the approaching headlights. Damien followed, a few strides behind. The oncoming train was picking up speed. Damien ran straight for it. Jay slipped out of sight, safely on the west track. Now it was just Damien and the oncoming train. The headlights almost blinded him, forcing him to rely on his memory and orientation of where he was running and how far to go.
A hailstorm of gunfire shattered the rear of the west train, sweeping across the tunnel. Rounds struck the concrete at his heels. His heart pumped into overdrive, circulating adrenaline. The oncoming train was right in front, screaming toward him. Headlights flooded everything. His foot snagged the track. He went down.
Jay appeared, pulled him across. They rolled, landed roughly on concrete. The oncoming train rattled past, wheels thrumming the tracks. Damien was damp with sweat and his limbs were jellying up. He heard a satisfying crack as the train made contact with a Liberator before punching further into the dark.
‘How many do you think?’ he whispered.
‘I’m hoping the train cleaned up at least half,’ Jay said, standing upright. ‘But they were in battle spread formation so I’m guessing three left.’
Damien hit the pressel. ‘Grace, the train on the western track, can you take it the other way? South?’
‘On it,’ Grace said.
Damien got to his feet as the train started moving away from them.
‘Yeah, great idea,’ Jay said. ‘There goes our only cover.’
‘I didn’t think of that,’ Damien said. ‘Faster!’ he yelled into the mic.
The train shunted forward, gathering speed. Damien heard the Liberators scatter, then the scraping and clanging of metal. Jay glanced up at the elevated concrete platform on the side of the tunnel at something Damien couldn’t see without Jay’s infrared wavelength perception.
‘Fuck, they’ve moved,’ Jay said, breaking into another sprint. ‘Three on the platform, incoming!’
* * *
DC stood abruptly, hands clamped around the chair so it looked like he was still plasticuffed. He moved toward the jaguar knight team leader.
‘You need to get everyone out of the airport right now!’ he yelled, his chin holding down his pressel as he talked. ‘Those planes are almost right overhead! They’re dropping their bombs right now! We only have a few minutes to get clear!’
‘Sit the fuck d—’
DC brought his hands around, taking the man into a chokehold and pulling him onto his knees.
Sophia’s voice crackled in his ear. ‘Have they dropped anything?’
DC released one hand and used it to hit the pressel. ‘Detonate the EMP!’ he yelled. ‘Now!’
‘Grace, Chickenhead,’ Sophia said, ‘open the blast door, now!’
‘Opening now,’ Grace said.
‘Nasira,’ Sophia said. ‘Tell me you have the transmitter.’
‘Ten seconds,’ Nasira replied.
DC heard a shotgun blast in the background. Nasira sounded occupied. He hoped they could pull this off. Looking up from the temporarily unconscious jaguar knight he’d taken to the ground, he realized the rest of the team had their pistols aimed at him.
He stood upright and backed away slowly. ‘Sorry, I slipped,’ he said.
* * *
Nasira watched Aviary pry the transmitter from the dead man’s hand.
‘Hit the button!’ she yelled. ‘The square black one!’
Aviary flipped open the protective casing on the transmitter and found the button.
The Mazda roof buckled as a Pariah landed on it. Nasira ducked in her seat and fired the shotgun into the roof. The sound reverberated inside the car, making her ears ring. Another Pariah sprang into view, right in front of Aviary. They were fucking everywhere. Aviary stared into its glowing red infrared diodes.
Nasira screamed at her. ‘Hit the motherfuck—’
Aviary hit the button.
The Pariah didn’t move. It seemed frozen. The lights inside Garage West winked out row by row, coating them in darkness. Nasira exhaled slowly and relaxed the grip on her shotgun.
Aviary dived back into the car and stared directly ahead, probably in shock. She turned to Nasira finally. �
�I did it, right? Just like you said.’
‘You did it,’ Nasira said.
Something heavy crashed through the parking lot ceiling, right beside the car. Nasira pulled herself low. Peering through the Mazda window, she saw something sharp and pointy protruding down from the ceiling. It was hard to tell with no lights on and pitch darkness outside.
‘Is that—’ Aviary began.
‘A 1000-pound bomb,’ Nasira finished.
The missile-shaped bomb groaned and dropped through the hole it had created, landing with a dull clang and crushing an inanimate Pariah.
Nasira held her breath. The bomb didn’t detonate.
She hit the pressel. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the bombs are now expensive Christmas ornaments.’
No response.
Aviary pointed at her mic. ‘I think the EMP took out our radios.’
‘Oh, right.’ She ripped it from her ear and pocket, and discarded it out the window.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Jay collapsed. Everything went suddenly dark. His hands were cool on the concrete floor. He felt Damien reach down and pick him up.
‘What’s wrong?’ Damien said.
Everything was black. Which meant the EMP was successful. He turned to face Damien, only he couldn’t see him. Then it dawned on him. It wasn’t just the dark tunnel.
‘I can’t see,’ he said. ‘I’m blind.’
It took a moment for Damien to respond. When he did, his voice was strangely slow and drawn out. ‘I can’t hear anything.’
He took both of Jay’s hands and moved them up his arms. ‘Hold on to my arm.’
Jay heard the metal scraping of Liberators in the distance.
‘Three coming,’ he said. ‘Quickly.’ He stopped when he realized Damien couldn’t hear him.
Damien pulled him into a fast walk, which soon turned into a run. Jay fell into line behind him, the palm of his hand on Damien’s back to keep himself oriented. As long as he followed Damien’s steps, he wouldn’t get lost.
Damien slowed down, then stopped completely. Jay could hear him searching through his daypack. A moment later, he heard the grinding of metal against metal, then Damien was helping him up through the train’s half-open doors. Jay felt his way inside, found a metal pole to cling to and pulled himself upright. He tried to keep calm, but being absolutely blind and helpless while Liberators hunted them through the transit tunnel was putting him on edge. His fingers were shaking. He wanted his vision back.
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