by Lee Stephen
Eyes widening, Scott looked back. “We don’t have time to wait for an elevator! Find a flight of—” The door from outside opened. EDEN soldiers emerged. “Veck!” They were all smack dab in the middle of the hallway without cover anywhere. EDEN opened fire.
Bullets zinged past Scott and his comrades, dinging against the Nightmen’s armor as they stayed in front of Becan and William. The demolitionist kicked in the door of the apartment room directly across from the elevator doors. The massive Southerner dashed inside, Becan hot on his heels.
A single shot rang out that was louder than all the others. Rashid was spun around, the bullet catching him squarely in the shoulder. The fulcrum howled in pain as Rodion and Feliks covered him. Rodion shoved Feliks into the room with William and Becan, motioning quickly for Scott to follow suit. “Sniper!” It was the last word the slayer said. Another shot rang out and Rodion’s head rocked backward, blood bursting from the back of his helmet.
Diving on top of Rashid, Scott rolled him over his own body and into the room. Not a fraction of a second after he was cleared from the hallway, a third shot from the enemy sniper zinged past. As soon as Scott and Rashid were clear of it, Scott pulled the Turk up to his feet.
Ding!
Scott looked across the hall as the elevator door opened. If they were gonna use it, then let’s use it. Pointing to William, he said, “Make them run.”
The demolitionist reloaded his hand cannon, leaned around the corner of the doorway, and fired a pair of rounds before the sniper could fire a fourth time. Even as the rounds whizzed down the hallway, Scott could hear the EDEN operatives shouting for one another to take cover.
That was their cue.
“Into the elevator! Go, go, go!” Pulling up Rashid, Scott shoved the fulcrum with all of his might across the hallway and into the elevator. Rashid collided against the wall with a roar of pain. Becan and Feliks dove next, leaving Scott and William alone in the room. “Fire again, Will!” As William did as commanded, Scott bolted into the hallway, grabbed Rodion’s limp body by the shoulder guards, and dragged him into the elevator alongside William. As soon as they were in, Becan’s finger pressed the close button repeatedly. The elevator door squeaked as it closed.
Readying themselves at the back of the elevator, Scott, Becan, and Feliks aimed their assault rifles at the door—just in case something unexpected happened. But the sounds of the shouting EDEN soldiers were gone. The only noise any of them heard was the squeal of an old belt as the elevator’s motor cranked it up.
Becan shouldered his assault rifle, looked down at Rodion’s body, then back up to Scott. Frowning, the Irishman said, “I’m sorry for stoppin’, Remmy. Tha’ one’s on me.”
Glaring at the Irishman through his faceless helmet, Scott didn’t say a thing. He simply turned his head back to the door and waited for the top floor to arrive.
* * *
The Pariah was still banking hard around the corners of Krasnoyarsk’s low skyline when the comm from Scott came through. “Travis, we’re on our way to the top of the building now.”
Pulling the stick back, Travis shot the Pariah’s nose straight up. “Heading up there to pick you up.”
“What’s the status of those Superwolves?”
As Travis focused on the flying, Tiffany took over the comm chatter. “If we get out of here fast enough, there’s a chance they could miss us, but when I say fast, I mean fast. Like, ‘make haste’ fast.”
“We’re making as much haste as we can.”
“We’ll be at the top waiting for you.”
Scott spoke again, quickly. “Oh! We couldn’t make it to the same building you were talking about. We’re coming up the one right before it.”
Travis’s eyes widened. As the Pariah reached the building top, he took the comm back from Tiffany. “Wait, what building are you guys going up?”
“The one right before it! Why, is that a problem?”
Their faces paling, Travis and Tiffany just stared at each other. Finally, Travis cleared his throat and replied. “Yeah. That’s kind of going to be a problem.”
* * *
Scott and company were already running down the twelfth-floor hallway when Travis said the words, every member of their party looking for some kind of door depicting rooftop access. There was no sign of one anywhere. “How are we supposed to get to the bleedin’ roof?” Becan asked.
Already on the comm, Scott asked Travis, “Now might be a good time to tell us about that problem you’re talking about!”
“It’s a pitched roof!”
Scott’s heart lurched up to his throat. “Come again?”
“The roof of the building you’re in right now,” Travis said. “It’s pitched! There’s no way to access it from the inside.”
The team’s collective shoulders sunk. William, with the body of Rodion slung over his shoulder, asked, “What are we supposed to do now? I mean, there’s gotta be a way we can get onto this thing, right?”
That might have been true for some of them, but most certainly not for all of them. Some of the more agile members of the team, namely Scott himself, Becan, and possibly Feliks, could maneuver themselves up and around the roof’s tip through a window. But Rashid? William, carrying Rodion’s body? Not a chance.
“I told you to get on the roof that I told you to get on for a reason,” said Travis, the pilot’s tone sharp and accusatory.
Had Travis snipped like that to Scott while standing in front of him, Scott would’ve socked him. “So where can we go now? Get us out of here.” At the far end of the twelfth-floor hallway, a stampede of footsteps emerged from the stairwell. EDEN. Scott hollered to the others. “Contacts, far hall!” The others turned to face the fast-approaching EDEN forces. “Travis, give us a route out of here now!”
* * *
Snarling, Travis answered, “Roger, workin’ on it.” As soon as the channel was closed, the pilot muttered. “They ask the pilot for help, the pilot offers it. They don’t listen, it all goes to hell, and somehow it’s the pilot’s fault. Do you have any idea how much of this I have to put up with?”
Tiffany ugh-ed. “Gag me with a spoon.”
“You have no idea.” Engaging his tactical computer, Travis pulled up the ground team on the display. “I have you guys on here, but I need context. Move down a hall or something!” Over the comm channel, a barrage of gunfire exploded. “Or have a shoot-out,” said Travis off-comm. “Whatever floats your boat.”
* * *
The moment EDEN’s forces emerged from the stairwell, they took shelter behind the natural corners formed between each set of doors in the hallway. Opening fire liberally at Scott’s team, they quickly fortified their position as the hunted operatives ran for cover. Chunks were blown out of the wall, windows were blown out at the end of the hallway. In a matter of seconds, the twelfth floor of the apartment complex turned into a war zone.
Having no choice but to mirror EDEN’s moves, the escapees took to the corners of the hallway, returning fire as best they were able. Dropping Rodion’s body, William readied his hand cannon to fire.
“No!” Scott held out his hand at the demolitionist. “There are people in this place!”
William angled his weapon back up.
Leaning around the corner, Scott aimed at the clustered EDEN soldiers and fired off a small burst. Though the operatives in his crosshairs ducked back, it did nothing to make a dent in the overall wave of ammunition flying their way.
“I understand your concern,” said Rashid from one corner back, “but now is not the time to let ethics guide you. If your demolitionist can help us survive, let him fire!”
“I understand your concern, but the decision’s been made.” Scott looked at the Turk. “Command still falls to me.” Though Rashid’s face couldn’t be seen behind the faceless plate of his fulcrum’s helmet, his disapproving body language made his stance clear. Just the same, he accepted it without further retort. Back to business. Firing a burst again, Scott looked acro
ss to William. “Get in that apartment next to you and look for a window!” If there was a balcony patio, the Pariah might be able to pick them up from it. Based on the law of averages alone, something had to go their way sooner or later.
Fiddling with the handle and finding it locked, William bashed his elbow against the door. It swung open wildly—inside, a woman screamed. Without a word, William hoisted Rodion’s body on his shoulders again and charged into the room. Even from a distance, Scott could make out the distinct shape of a sliding glass door at the apartment’s far side. Thank God.
He got back on the comm. “Travis, loop around to the east side of the building! We’re going to evacuate over the balconies!” As the pilot affirmed, Scott motioned to Becan. “Work your way to the balcony window in that apartment!” The Irishman disappeared inside. “The rest of you guys, keep suppressing until they’re on board!”
* * *
Veering around the eastern corner of the apartment, Travis and Tiffany scanned the building for any sign of William. It didn’t take long. “There!” Tiffany pointed to the demolitionist as he slid open the door to a patio on the far side. Travis brought the Vulture around as the blonde leaned into the troop bay. “Your big guy is coming in. Get ready by the ramp!”
Pelted by a blast of icy mist from the downpour, the occupants of the troop bay held on tightly. Weaving through the crowd, David and Esther made their way toward the ramp. Javon Quinton from Falcon Platoon joined them. “Grab my hand, man!” the black soldier said to David. “I can grab ’em.” Clutching one of the ramp rods with one hand, David snatched onto Javon’s hand with his other.
On the balcony, William called out to Javon. “I’m tossing the body!” Nodding his head, Javon readied himself to grab it. Spinning around like a shotput athlete, William slung the fallen slayer over the balcony gap, grunting as he collapsed in the other direction.
The top half of Rodion’s body slammed into the lip of the Pariah’s ramp. Javon grabbed it and pulled it aboard.
* * *
The shootout was raging on inside the apartment hallway. As the last of Scott’s E-35 ammunition was spent, the soldier threw the assault rifle down and whipped out his handgun, firing potshots down the hallway toward the advancing EDEN operatives. If they didn’t get a move on quickly, this was going to end badly.
Though he, Feliks, and Rashid had felled several, they were still vastly outnumbered. The enemies were pushing closer with every second.
Click! Click! Click!
“Veck!” He was out of ammunition. Dropping the empty handgun, he looked back at the two Nightmen. Rashid, though firing, was doing so with his left hand, sending inaccurate shots ricocheting down the hall in what amounted to little more than momentary suppressors. Feliks was their last line of defense. “Cover me!” Scott shouted back to them. As his counterparts laid down borderline insignificant suppression fire, Scott retreated back to the corner directly opposite them. He waved his hand out to Rashid. “Weapon!” The Turk didn’t argue, tossing his handgun Scott’s way. Scott grabbed it and turned it against EDEN. Again, he addressed Rashid. “Get out of here with the others!”
Ducking down, Rashid bolted across the hallway, bullets slamming against his armor as he stumbled past Scott and toward Becan.
“Hey,” Scott said, looking at Feliks, “we’re gonna have to get out of here fast!”
“Understood,” the slayer answered.
* * *
“You’re as close as you’re gonna get!” said Travis, having backed the Pariah’s ramp up to the precipice of the balcony.
Waving William on, David said, “Come on, big guy. Make the leap!”
Taking several steps back, William charged the balcony rail, springing over it with as much speed as the massive Southerner could muster. Much as the case had been with Rodion, William barely reached the lip of the Pariah—but it was just enough. Javon grabbed him, William regained his balance, and the demolitionist was secure.
“William’s in! Becan’s up!”
Travis brought the Pariah sideways to the next balcony, where the Irishman and Rashid waited.
* * *
Scott was on the verge of exhausting his new weapon’s ammunition supply when Esther’s voice came over his comm. “We’re securing Becan and Rashid! Get your golden tail over here now!”
Finally. “Feliks, go!” Scott shouted across the hallway to the slayer. Lowering his head, the slayer bounded across the hallway to Scott’s side, darting past him to run for the Pariah.
Scott knew that the moment he relented, there would be no more suppressive fire slowing down EDEN’s advance. But it was now or never. Popping around the corner a final time, Scott unloaded what remained of his handgun, ducking back when its final shot had been fired. Bolting into the apartment behind Feliks, he charged straight for the hovering transport.
From the ramp of the Pariah, with Becan and Rashid safely on board, Javon signaled Feliks to hurry. “Come on, dude!” The slayer leapt over the balcony rail, reaching out for Javon’s hand as the black soldier snagged it. Feliks was pushed securely inside. Looking back to the apartment, Javon waited for Scott.
Scott heard the army of footsteps approaching from the hallway. At any second, they’d reach the doorway and open fire. Ahead, he could see the Pariah just past the balcony rail. That jump from the balcony to the troop bay looked long. Running full speed, Scott leapt over the back of a sofa in his mad dash.
The moment he landed, the pain struck him.
Clutching his thigh in agony, Scott screamed and stumbled forward. His bullet wound. Whether it was his adrenaline giving up on him or the way he landed on it, something caused it to erupt in a tortuous pain. Before he knew it, he was toppling over onto the ground. There was nothing he could do to stop it.
He looked up as EDEN rounded the corner.
From the back of the troop bay, David’s eyes widened. “Scott!” Whipping his head back to Travis, he shouted, “Get closer to the balcony, Scott’s done!”
“I already told you,” said Travis, “I’m as close as I can get!”
“Stop complaining about every damn thing and do it!”
Punching the control panel, Travis snarled in frustration. The pilot backed the Pariah up closer.
“Everyone with a weapon, open fire!”
Inside the apartment room, Scott ducked down as the exchange of gunfire began. Pieces of furniture were blown apart as assault rifle rounds struck from both directions, blowing lamps off end tables and blasting chunks from the walls. Covering his head with one hand, Scott crawled for the balcony.
He wasn’t going to make it, and even if he did, in the time that it took for him to reach the Pariah, members of the Fourteenth inside—or worse, Centurion—would be struck down in the firefight. They had a mission, and his well-being wasn’t it. With his stomach in his throat, he addressed them on the comm. “Don’t come after me! Get out of here with the target. That’s an order.”
“Like hell we’re leaving you here!” David said.
“I’m not asking you, this is an order! Travis, go!”
Without reservation, Travis pulled up on the stick. “Don’t have to vecking tell me twice.” Before anyone could say otherwise, he activated the rear bay door.
“Travis!” David spun around toward the cockpit. “Get back down there now!”
“I’m following an order!”
Eyes wide in horror, David spun back to face the apartment as the Pariah lifted away from it. They were leaving Scott behind.
In that same second, someone bolted past David for the ramp—her black maxi dress a blur as she ran full speed toward it before it could close. Before David could even shout, Esther Brooking leapt out of the troop bay and toward the rapidly-distancing balcony.
Esther collided into the outer side of the balcony, her hands grasping desperately for the railing before she plummeted to the ground twelve stories below. Her fingers curled around iron. She screamed as piercing, hot pain shot through her inj
ured shoulder when she strained to pull herself up. Esther clenched her teeth against the pain and the pelting freezing rain as she hauled herself up and over the railing with a final grunt.
The moment she was oriented, Esther looked up to locate Scott. What she saw, instead, was a gun barrel. Standing in a semi-circle in front of her, each with their weapon raised, were EDEN soldiers. Behind them, in the custody of their counterparts, was Scott.
Closing her eyes and exhaling, Esther lowered her head, letting her chocolate strands of hair dangle in the downpour. With no other options, she slowly rose to her feet and put her hands in the air.
“Are you Esther Brooking?” the man asked.
“No,” Esther answered flatly. “I’m Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile.”
For several seconds, the EDEN solider scrutinized her. “You are Esther Brooking.”
“If you knew, why’d you ask?”
Held firmly by his own captors, Scott shot her a warning look behind his fulcrum helmet, the disapproving expression hidden by its faceless surface.
The sky above the balcony suddenly erupted with the sound of a rushing wind. The EDEN operatives shifted their focus from Esther to the noise. Shielding her face from the rain and new winds, the British scout spun around.
Lowering in front of the balcony, the Pariah, its spotlight pointed and its nose-mounted cannon spinning, descended toward the balcony on the twelfth floor.
“Down!” yelled Scott from behind the balcony. He and Esther dropped to the floor just as the mounted nose cannon unleashed its rage. EDEN operatives dove in every direction—those who couldn’t get out of the way were blown to pieces. The tatter of rainfall was replaced by the cannon fire’s deafening scream.
