I grinned, toying with him. “You’ll figure it out.”
“Oh, right,” he snorted. “I’ll believe that when Rogee sprouts a set of wings and a halo.”
“Aren't we going?” I asked pointedly gesturing toward the door. “And might I add that I applaud your apparent disregard for the fact that the prime minister is going to tan your hide when he hears you’ve been negotiating on his behalf?”
For the first time he seemed uncertain. He shuffled his shoes. “Yes, but we’re not out through the door. I should add that he has no idea that I’m here. And on a more important note, while I will fulfill my end of the promise, you will still most likely come through this a fugitive, as will I.”
He shrugged and then it hit me. “We’re breaking me out? Are you insane?! They’ll shoot us both on sight if you go through with this!”
I probably shouldn’t have been discouraging him but in the end it didn’t matter. He didn’t care. He pointed upward at the vent I had previously been staring at. “The heating system will shut off for exactly six minutes. When it does, I am going to give you a leg up and then you are to follow the system north until-”
“And how am I to tell which way is north?!”
“You navigated through the sewers in the pitch black pretty well,” he snapped. “Argon will be waiting at the end in the hangar. He’ll take you from there.” He looked down at his watch. “One minute.”
I glared at him. This had to be the most poorly planned idea I had ever heard. “Tell me, are all of yours plans this badly scoped out? Am I to be a guide on a ‘flying by the seat of your pants’ expedition, or am I just lucky for today?”
He shot me a disparaging look. “You bet your ass you’re lucky. I’ve spent the last two days kissing up to all of the suckers on the highest level. You're such a liability no one wanted to let you out. There’s even talk of a public execution. You pissed Greyson off but good. We haven’t had a firing squad style in years. It was stupid.”
“Stupidity was not putting a bullet in your head.” I growled. “Then again, you are here.”
“Twenty seconds… You seem to get a joy out of reminding me I was at your mercy. Funny how you’re now at mine. Ten seconds.”
He offered his hands to give me a leg up. I stepped into it and found myself shooting toward the ceiling. I was impressed. He was surprisingly strong. I started loosening the vent. Scalding hot air blew on my face. Below, he grunted under my weight. “Hurry up!”
I was too busy scoping out the hole to reply as I hauled myself up into the vent. I winced as my bare feet and hands hit the burning hot metal. “Make sure you have a burn kit when we next meet. And you’d better have my stuff. If I don’t get them back, the deal’s off.”
“Five and a half minutes,” he snapped, striding toward the door. “Pull the grate over. No need to leave a breadcrumb trail. ”
I hissed a curse as I dragged the grate back into place. My flesh was already screaming at the burning. This was going to be fun. I heard the door slam below and started crawling. Fortunately there was light through the tunnel from below. Unfortunately that meant I ran the risk of being seen, or even worse, heard. Voices floated up from below as I crawled over the scorching metal. I couldn’t make out most of the words, but I hoped they would be busy enough not to notice any noise from me. No matter how I moved, the vent system echoed with noise from my knees. So all I could do was move faster.
I passed over a few rooms before I came to what I regarded as a Godsend. A cafeteria. The racket I was making was drowned out by the sea of voices. They weren't paying attention. They were too busy stuffing their faces and chatting. I could move with abandon and without notice. It was a relief from moving at a tortoise's pace.
But as usual, my luck ran out. I was about halfway - or I assumed halfway, having no way to tell - when suddenly loud alarms sounded from below. The PA system crackled to life, echoing in my ears. “Security breach from containment unit. Lockdown commencing in-”
I crouched, frozen in place above, hearing that my escape had been noticed. All noise below me had died. I could feel my skin burning off from the contact against the tunnel floor. And worst of all, I was poised on a large grate. The slight movement could set off suspicion.
The PA system began counting down. No one moved from below and I remained perfectly still. But there was still one thing outside of my control. I could feel blood welling up in my hands where the metal was burning through my skin. There was nothing I could do but pray as I watched one scarlet drop fall.
It fell with agonizing slowness. But when it hit one fellow square on the top of the head, I held my breath. For one split second, I thought it would go unnoticed. I was wrong. All heads seemed to turn upwards in a ripple. And then all hell broke loose.
I scrambled to move forward while the entire hall below broke into chaos. I slid on the blood from my hands and panic gripped my heart when I heard the first shot go off and ricochet in the tunnel behind me. Then there were two shots. Three. Then too many to count and they were shooting to kill.
I dove for the end of the vent in all out desperation, but I still wasn’t fast enough. I bit down on my tongue as I felt the sharp edge of pain zoom up my leg. They had gotten me, but I wasn't sure how bad. But I did know it wasn't one clean wound. It was multiple, and I feared it was shrapnel.
As I skidded at this end of the vent, I felt myself fall with a loud bang. This tunnel was bigger. I jumped to my feet ignoring the stabbing agony in my left leg and started running. Hang the noise; they knew exactly where I was now. I had to find a vacant room and disappear.
Where was the end of these damn tunnels anyway? I had been going on forever and - oh! More horrors. The heating cycle was beginning again. Now I was running from the men and from the heat. It was getting way too hot; like center of the sun in an oven hot. I would bake before I got free. I gave up running and cut my losses. It was either burn or run on flat ground with humans dogging my steps. I chose the less hot option.
I threw open the next grate and dropped down to the floor. I caught a lucky break as it was an empty hallway. I landed on my feet and then my wounded leg crumpled out from under me. I dragged myself to my feet and took off running. I knew I was leaving a trail of bloody splotches as I went, but there was nothing I could do about it. My mind raced ahead faster than my feet ever could. I needed to die and fast.
Let me clarify. I needed to make people stop looking for me and what better way than to fake it. I had no death wish. The comfort of the everlasting grave was no solace to me. It was a fear fest. I knew killing was wrong. No God would ever forgive me for the atrocities I had committed, albeit to protect those who had no one to shield them from the harsh realities this world came with. I was hellbound and I knew it. Death was not an option for me. It would drag me down kicking and screaming and not an instant before.
I skidded around a corner and at last I saw my destination. But the hangar was full of people. Where was Argon? I could hear a rising commotion behind me and I knew I had to disappear. But where?
It was then I saw my saving grace. I yanked down the fire alarm as hard as I could and ducked into the adjacent utility closet. I could hear voices coming. I sincerely hoped that the dark liquid seeping down my leg hadn’t left any smears as I dove in the closet. Then again, the water now falling from the ceiling would most likely wash it away.
I spotted a workman’s outfit hanging in one corner. I hurriedly dragged it over my body and covered my face with the ratty hardhat that accompanied it. As quickly as I had ducked in, I ducked back out amidst the crowds. People were dashing about under the falling water, heading to the doors. I kept my head down and fiddled with the gloves, pretending to adjust them. No one paid me a second glance. My evil little harebrained plan was working.
Once in the garage, I walked over to the nearest vehicle and pretended to examine the tires, all the while scanning the room for a familiar face. Argon had to be here. Or had the whole thing been a setup from t
he very beginning? Maybe McRattin really hated me enough to want to kill me. I had to find them either way. I had to take the risk.
I approached a soldier. Wonderfully enough the PA system started broadcasting that the fire alert was a false alarm. But the lockdown was still in effect, not that it mattered. I cleared my throat. “I’m looking for McRattin. He reported he needed maintenance before his convoy goes.”
Joyfully enough, the man didn’t even look up from his clipboard. “Vehicle six. Hurry. They were leaving immediately.”
I muttered my thanks and made my way down the line of enormous trucks. I had never seen vehicles this large. They were like rolling houses. Rolling windowless houses that had tank armor. These were what they were taking out in the desert? They looked pretty slow and we needed speed.
I stole inside and glanced around. Vacant. No one here. Oh, well. They would be around eventually. I looked for a hiding place and found the perfect one. No one would find me here. Any blood I had left to spill would gather into the underbelly of the vehicle. It would be a tight squeeze, but I’d fit.
I just hoped I wouldn’t have to stay concealed long. I was losing blood by the second. I wadded the pants leg up around the worst of the wound and hopped into the grate in the center where they sometimes stored extra gear under the floor. Fortunately, it was empty.
I didn't have to wait long. I heard the tramping of boots over my face and then the slamming of a door. The engine started over the rustling of much human movement. There was a bunch of people above me. Judging by the placement, they were sitting in the seats that had been spaced along the walls of the room. “What’s going on, sir? Are we being delayed because of the lockdown?”
“No,” came McRattin’s voice. Good. I was in the right truck. That was a relief. “We’re just waiting for-”
Another door slammed. “Dammit!”
That was Argon’s voice.
“She didn’t come?”
Argon replied low in a sorrowful voice. “She tried. She didn't make it. Those trigger happy quacks shot her down. They’re still looking for the body. There’s blood everywhere and they’ve found traces of skin along the vent walls. The hot metal must have melted it off of her. I’m wondering if there’s going to be anything left to bury when they do get her. Whatever happened to just wounding a person? Everyone emptied their cartridges out like it was target practice! Fools! Now what do we do?!”
“Not much of a loss,” came another voice. “We don't need a murderous bitch on crew.”
“In this case we do,” Cain answered. “There are few who know how to navigate the sand pits and even fewer who will help us.”
“Still. I got a look into her house,” said yet another unknown soldier. ”It was creepy abandoned. She was psycho.”
“Maybe,” Argon answered as I stifled my disgust. “But most psychopaths don't grow gardens and give out leftovers to the local homeless shelter. I interviewed the neighbors. They all had nothing but nice things to say.”
“Keeping up appearances. Killers don’t suck up to their neighbors without motive.”
“I want to know what makes a Moraine warrior go turncoat,” Rig’s voice inserted. “Rumor is they threw her out.”
“Other rumors suggest that she also sprouts bat wings and chooses her victims based on their sexual status. But we all know that the names on her list were already long deflowered, so that bugs that rumor. Then again there was the one about her being the offspring of death itself and a reaper. That was a fun one. I’d love to know what she did with her scythe while she was out pulling the weeds on her roof,” Argon threw in dryly.
They all laughed on that one. I could feel the vehicle moving under me. We were going, but we had yet to reach full speed. We weren’t through the gate. Just a few more minutes to wait and then we would be outside the bubble. My wounds hurt horribly, so I was chomping at the bit for the wait to be over. But I did find Argon’s compassionate lament about my death interesting. He seemed to have taken a liking to me for some unknown reason.
“Ach, poor woman,” Rig said. “Nasty or not, she did try and keep her end of the bargain and died trying. I’d love to know why she demanded that Greyson end the slave trade.”
“I took another look at her alleged kill list,” Argon said quietly. “All of the deceased were heavy into the black market slave or weapons trade. None of the military personnel she took out were clean either. There was a pattern there, just like she said.”
“What are you suggesting? She’s a vigilante?” McRattin scoffed. “She killed Jennings.”
“I sent an anonymous tip to the police in that district, Cain. Guess what they found buried in his backyard?” Silence met his words. “They found a mass grave filled with former slaves. She wasn’t lying.”
There was another long sigh before Argon spoke again. “I think we may have just killed the much rumored about anonymous benefactor who goes and buys up as many slaves as they can during the auctions and turns them free. It wasn’t an urban legend like it was supposed to be. I checked. The figure from the surveillance footage shows a woman in a cloak with twin blades, matching the ones we confiscated from her. Judging by the copious amount of cash she forked over, even a millionaire’s wallet would have winced. She might have been funneling her earned bounties back into buying and freeing the slaves. ”
“Please,” another voice sneered. “A contract killer Harriet Tubman? You can't be serious.”
I heard a squeak as a chair was sat on and Argon sighed. “I might be. A trained MoiRaine warrior turned assassin… never did sit right with me. Didn't make much sense. Still doesn’t.”
“I spoke with the nurse,” said the female in a hushed voice. “She told me she kept talking in her delirium, crying out like she was being beaten in her dreams. Mary said the scars around her wrists match the shape of shackles and there are marks all over her body like she was flogged repeatedly. The wrist scars are so deep she must have been cut to the bone. Sierrenna would have had reason to hate the slavers. She bears the marks of a slave.”
“You mean she did.”
My blood ran like ice with Cain’s curt statement. This was bad. Things were unraveling fast. Or were they? This might be used to my advantage. Sympathy could be a weapon. Or it could win me allies. Either option was viable. Before I could change my mind, I threw open the trapdoor and sat up. “She does, actually.”
Before I could say one more word, all guns were automatically drawn at me. I put my hands up. “Down boys. The rumors that I am bulletproof are sadly false.”
The guns all pointed down to the floor away from me as Cain barked out an order to stand down. That didn’t take away the absolute shock at my appearance. Argon smirked. Everyone else looked wary.
“The bitch is back,” said the unnamed one.
“She never left,” I snapped. “Just please tell me the army is not supplying you all with seventy-nine order flechette bullets.”
“No. Only Roger uses those,” Rig said, setting his gun across his lap.
“Good. It’ll make my life easier if I get shot at again,” I said, trying to haul myself out of the hole. “Point him out to me. He’s the only one who can shoot straight.”
I attempted to push myself up but failed miserably. My injured leg had given up. It had no strength left. I started to slide back in. Growling under my breath, I lugged myself up with my arms. No one made any move to help me. “McRattin, you’d better have brought that burn kit and my things.”
He was too busy staring at my bloody pant leg. “You’re injured?”
“Do I look like I go around dousing myself in blood for fun? Then again I do go around deflowering old men,” I drawled. “Burn kit? I need to bandage my hands so I can treat my legs.”
“I think that’s the least of your worries,” Argon said, eyeing my leg, too.
Rig ignored me entirely and pressed a button on the wall. “Send back a puncture kit.”
“You’re not going to be able to walk on that,�
�� McRattin snapped.
“Give me a few hours and I’ll be fine,” I snapped back. “This is nothing.”
“How did you keep going?” the girl said, squatting down next to me. “Most wouldn’t be able to stand, let alone keep running.”
I tried hard not to cringe away from her as she tore the workmen's pant up the center, exposing the damage. There was much cursing amongst the group and a few low whistles. The unnamed, disagreeable one looked like he was appreciative of whomever inflicted it.
“Oh, shit,” McRattin exclaimed, turning away with his hand in his hair. I knew exactly what was going through his head. He was wondering how on earth a guide was supposed to function with a bum leg. “You’re going to lose this leg if we don’t-”
“Will you please just shut up and give me my kit?!” I demanded impatiently.
“What’s in it?” he demanded suspiciously.
“A lighter and a pocket knife,” I growled. “Hardly an international terror threat!”
“Wait, you’re going to cut the barbs out?” the sweet-looking woman said, looking horrified. “No, they’re sending back a shrapnel kit. It has a magnet in it. It’ll draw the pieces out. And then we have the cell regenerator to repair your leg.”
“The what?” McRattin snapped.
She glared at him. “New prototype. It’ll do the job.”
“Whatever. I suppose if anyone is going to be the guinea pig, it ought to be her,” he growled irritably.
I rolled my eyes. This guy went from hot to cold faster than a microwave. “So long as I don't get any painkillers. They don’t agree with me.”
“Yes, you had a bad reaction to something the other night. I’m Ray by the way,” she said warmly. She reached out her hand and I saw her sleeve ride up. Under it was a brand; the brand of ownership. She had previously been a slave. I looked up at her and I saw keen intelligence. She had done that on purpose. Her rueful smile told me that much.
I shook it. “Sierrenna.”
“That Tiranshyck is a real demon, isn’t he?” she prodded brightly.
War Machine: Book One in the Destiny In the Shadows Series Page 7
