Project Phoenix

by D. C. Fergerson

  “Are you lost? What are you doing here?” he said in German.

  Cora turned her head to the side, as though confused by his language. She gesticulated with her hands, meaningless gestures meant to insinuate she didn’t speak German. The guard looked at his partner, exchanging uncertain glances. He took another step forward.

  “Your visor,” he said, pointing at his own head and motioning her to lift it. “Raise your visor, please.”

  Cora pointed at her eyes, trying to be helpful. The guard nodded, annoyed, and took another step forward.

  “Yes, lift,” he said, grunting in frustration. “Lift up your visor.”

  Another step forward. Cora continued to play dumb, miming lifting the visor on her helmet. She threw out the kickstand and relaxed.

  “What are you doing here? Don’t you know this is private property?” the guard yelled. He looked back to his friend and shouted. “Cover me, this idiot is probably some lost tourist. Look at this expensive motorcycle.”

  Another two steps, and he was now in front of her. He stood over with intimidating posture, one hand still on his weapon.

  “Lift your visor,” he said, tapping on the display on her helmet.

  Cora nodded, pressing a button on the side of her helmet. The visor lifted, the moment she was ready for. As an opening in the helmet appeared, the guard bent at the knees to look at her. What stared back were glowing, yellow eyes.

  “Magic-user!” he shouted back to his partner.

  As he tried to lift his weapon, Cora was already on the attack. She intercepted his hand as he grabbed for the machine gun. Holding him by the wrist, Cora twisted and pulled him in, her free hand grabbing for her Predator. He stumbled into her, stopping short as the barrel of her Predator pressed to his chest. He didn’t have time to scream before two taps of her trigger exploded rounds out of his back.

  Cora stood up, bracing her weapon arm on the soldier’s limp shoulder. She steadied a shot at the other guard, using the man as a shield. Her Eagle Sight didn’t give him an opening to fire. At a range of ten feet, her regular ammo required more to stop the heavily armored Bauer guards. She capped off two shots center mass, striking his chest plate, followed by two more at his helmet. His body crumpled to the ground. Even if he somehow survived the attack, he’d be incapacitated for the near future.

  The guard pressed to her became heavy, but his breathing still gurgled in her ear. She holstered her pistol and spun around him, tipping him back and dragging him toward the fence control booth. Blood poured onto the asphalt from the exit wounds, leaving a trail along the ground. The nauseating sound of the blood slapping the ground and the gurgling of his liquid-filled breaths twisted Cora’s stomach in knots. She set him down beside the door to the shack, where blood started to pool and the last breaths escaped his lips. Inside, a small display panel showed only two buttons to open and close the gate. She hit the open button, which prompted a scan. Grabbing the soldier’s lifeless wrist, she pulled against his heavy weight and scanned his wrist. The gate grinded to life and opened.

  Within seconds, their biometric readings would flag the commander on the post, and every guard here would be on high alert. Lucius paid for Bauer because their men were equipped with the best tech in the world. She ejected the clip of her Predator and set down her backpack. There was no room for grace or wounding shots. She quickly thumbed Rhino rounds into her magazine and pocketed the rest in her bomber jacket. There was only so much Cora’s magic could do to prevent being spotted. These men knew the base better than her, so she had to move fast.

  She ran through the gate, down a winding road carved through a field. A minimal amount of light posts dotted the area, so Bauer was likely using night vision on their rounds. A quick casting of her Silent Step spell, and she got off the road, into high grass. She stayed low, moving slowly enough not to rustle the grass too much.

  She spotted the silhouette of a tall structure made of wood, climbing into the sky and obscuring a distant light post. Cora froze and examined it. The clarity of detail with her glowing yellow eyes detected a subtle movement atop the structure. It was a guard tower. She squinted and looked to the distance. The main station was within view, a small building with an enormous satellite dish on top of it. Beyond that, another guard tower. Between the two of them, they had a view of whole facility.

  Cora visualized the rolling fogs in Pennsylvania, shutting her eyes and reaching out with her fingers. Magical energy flowed to her hands like a sieve. She opened her eyes and fixed on the field of grass ahead, between her and guard tower. She upturned her palms and lifted, pulling mists to form with her power. It covered the area, but it was thin. Thermographs and night vision would see through it. She pulled more from her body, tapping into reserves of energy. Her head began to throb, but the fog became dense. She relented, disoriented for a moment by the well of power she had ripped from herself.

  Shaking it off, she pressed forward, into the mist-covered brush beneath the guard tower. Climbing was out of the question. No magic would hide her ascent in the silence all around the tower. Another spell was required. She pictured the coiling snake, bounding to snap at its prey, and the magic came to her legs. She bounded into the air with everything she had, propelled the full height of the stilted enclosure. She landed on the railing without a sound, eyes sharp for the guard. His gaze set on the satellite station, he didn’t react to her arrival. One finger was pressed to his ear, listening to a message on his comm, no doubt warning him about Cora’s presence on the base.

  Her next leap was at the guard’s back. She pulled herself into ball, knees to her chest. When she landed on his back, her knees pressed to either side of his neck. She interlaced her fingers around his throat, throwing her head back to shift her weight. The guard gasped, stumbling backwards a few steps before giving in to gravity and falling backwards with Cora’s weight dragging him. As she fell, she sent a magical burst of strength to her arms. Her hands laced around his neck under his chin, she pulled down with everything she had while pushing in the opposite direction with her knees. As they both slammed on the ground, the sudden impact pulled the guard’s body and neck in two different directions, snapping it with a loud crack. A cold shudder passed through Cora as she heard it, knowing the horrific thing she had done. He didn’t scream, he didn’t bleed, but he was dead in a heartbeat all the same.

  She rolled to the side, throwing his weight off her, and got to her knees. She slid backwards, bracing her back against the waist-high panel of wood that acted as a rail around all four sides of the tower. Pulling off her backpack, she rummaged through it in the darkness until she found the components of the Preshnekov. She moved her hands around the pieces, feeling the ends. She locked the barrel into the body, then the stock. Once put back together, she looked through the scope. A button on the side cycled through standard, enhanced lighting, night vision, and thermograph. Given the distance to the opposite guard tower, clear past the satellite station on the far side of the base, night vision seemed like the best choice.

  Cora spun around, laying the Preshnekov to rest on top of the railing, and peered through the scope. She moved and fixed on the tower, everything coming in shades of green and white. Searching for the guard in position, it took her a moment to fix on him. His position was awkward, confusing Cora. His elbows were out at the sides and he appeared to be taking a knee.

  By the time the realization hit Cora and she threw herself backwards, it was too late. She heard the whiz of the incoming bullet, the suction against the leather of her bomber jacket as it tore from the entry, and the numbness in her right shoulder as she took the hit. She hit the ground with such impact that she splayed out on her back beside the fallen guard. The back of her head rebounded off the wooden floor. Metal scraped on wood as her Preshnekov slid free from her hands. She clasped her left hand over her shoulder out of instinct, even though the pain hadn’t reached her yet. That quickly set in as waves of burning, throbbing heat, and prickly numbness seized her arm fr
om the shoulder down.

  “Intruder hit,” a faint American voice came from the fallen guard’s comm. “Southwest tower. All units, close on position.”

  “Affirmative,” another voice said.

  “Of course,” Cora whispered to herself, grunting and pushing her palm against the wound. “Of course he hits me where I don’t have armor. Asshole.”

  Cora rolled to her stomach, pulling herself to her knees, crawling to her rifle. She picked it up with her left hand and dragged it back to her. She closed her eyes, unsure of what magic to call upon, only a vague idea of the desired result. The magic surged within her, but she could feel her power diminishing, taxed by overuse. The wanted to summon enough strength to still use her arm, to give it strength to press on. The energy swirled through her, concentrated to the wound. Warmth radiated around her injury, and the prickling sensation in her arm subsided enough that only her fingers tingled. It would have to be good enough.

  She drew herself back to position by the railing. Putting the rifle to the railing, she aimed blind, letting two silenced rounds off as cover fire. With the second shot, she popped her head over the railing and took aim through the scope. Her Eagle Sight found her target this time, still taking cover from the previous shot. She waited, patiently, examining the slightest movement behind the wooden panel. The moment his head came up from cover, he was locked in her crosshairs. She took a breath, held it, and pulled the trigger. She saw his head snap back, and watched his body fall to the side, disappearing from view.

  The position was compromised. With both towers down, she thought about mounting a defense from this position, but without a clue how many were coming or from what direction, she decided to keep moving. Intuition took control of her magic as she ran to the edge of the tower and hopped over the rail. A surge of power burst into her legs, absorbing the twenty-foot drop without a sound. She raced through the brush in a counter-clockwise circle around the satellite station, eyes darting around for other units.

  The magic she had called upon since the attack began stacked up, filling every inch of her skin. Her eyes, her wounded shoulder, and every part of her legs from the knees down bristled and flushed with power. It felt foreign and natural at the same time, like a passionate kiss in the dark. Maintaining all of it was difficult and taxing, more so now that blood trickled down the back of her shoulder blade from a wound she didn’t have time to treat. Her skull pounded and light-headedness made the world turn at an angle.

  Grass rustled ahead. For all of their armor and tech, Bauer Securities and stealth did not go well together. Cora stopped and knelt down, disappearing beneath the high grass. She strapped the Preshnekov over her shoulder and reached across to pull her Predator with her left hand, while her dominant hand hung limp at her side. Her aim with a pistol would be lessened, but like Johnny had said, Predators didn’t need to be very accurate to kill.

  The shape of the guard appeared ahead as he passed under the edge of an overhead light post’s halo. His current course would take him within a few feet of her. A quick flutter of her lashes did away with her enhanced vision. Her glowing eyes would be too easy to spot. She bided her time, waiting until he was within the darkness around her. This one was heavily armored, head to toe, and even the night-vision visor on his helmet offered bullet resistance. He was winded, breathing heavy from the run, probably from the other side of the camp. If he was alone, that meant there weren’t many more. When Cora emerged from the grass, a single step forward put her chest to chest with him. Her left forearm between them, the guard had less than a second to realize she pressed the barrel of her Predator up under the soft flesh behind the chin strap of his helmet. She pulled the trigger, the deafening roar of her pistol matched with the intensity of hot blood spraying across her chest. The exit wound at the top of his helmet was an erupting volcano of gore.

  His body landed and continued to twitch as muscles spasms fired off from a brain destroyed beyond repair. The frightening sound of her weapon boomed over the whole base. Whoever remained would come from the guard tower behind her, following the trail of bodies. Survival instinct said run, but tactically, she had an advantage in knowing they were coming. Whatever men remained would opt for safety in numbers, and come out united and in force. She doubled back the way she came, taking a wide arc through the grass, back toward the tower and far from any lights.

  Three men banged and boomed with a heavy step and the weight of their gear. They zipped through the high grass, passing within ten feet of her. She watched as their silhouettes went by, en route to their fallen comrade. She crept through the grass behind them, shoving her Predator into the waist of her jeans. She focused on gathering energy into a Stunbomb, hiding its light by tucking her hand inside her bomber jacket. The magic swirled and gathered within her hand as the guards slowed down and searched for the body.

  She needed two hands, the pain in her shoulder be damned. She stood up, her side to them, eyes fixed on target. Cora pulled the ball of light from her jacket and threw it with a single motion. Her right arm, begging her not to, yanked the Predator from her jeans before the ball of light hit the ground. Her first shot clipped the guard nearest to her in the back, between his shoulder blades. The spell shattered, sending out a wave of air and energy, tossing all three of the men off their feet. She ran up, switching hands, and double-tapped her trigger on each of the remaining soldiers as they lay in the grass, stunned and helpless. She didn’t pause to ensure their demise, moving forward without breaking her stride. The road to the satellite station was just ahead. Nothing would stop her now.

  Cora walked along the asphalt as it curved around to the building at the center of the base. Two bright lights loomed above, lighting up the whole entrance area. The only door was up a short set of five metal stairs to a metal landing that ran along the entire side of the building. Her boots clanged as she ran up, checking along the wall beside the door for a locking panel of any kind. Instead, the door opened, startling her. The man in the doorway had his head down and filled the entire space. He stepped through, ducking down to clear the top of the frame. He wore a suit of grey digital camouflage and body armor, like the rest of the Bauer soldiers. When he stepped past the doorway, he stood erect, towering over Cora. She saw the curled horns and shaved head.

  “Oh, shit,” was all Cora had time to say. Shaking off her surprise and awe, she lifted her Predator to take aim.

  Before her hand came to rest, he backhanded her palm, throwing her arm to the side and tossing the weapon from her hand as if taken by a hurricane. It clanged on the metal landing far from her. He lifted a knee and moved forward, throwing out a front kick to her chest. Cora flew backwards through the air, sailing over the flight of steps and smashing into the asphalt on her wounded shoulder. She tried to cry out in pain, but a cough spewed out blood from her mouth instead.

  Cora’s good hand pulled the Preshnekov off her shoulder while the massive troll marauded down the stairs for her. The weapon was heavy and meant for two hands, but hitting him was all that was important. Once in her grip, she rolled to her back and rested the rifle on her thigh. The troll moved with terrifying speed for someone so large, kicking the end of the barrel like a soccer punt. The rifle and her arm whipped backwards, sliding and grinding on the road as it freed from her hand. His foot remained in the air as he balanced himself and aimed the other to stomp her head into the ground. She rolled across her injured shoulder, dragging a trail of blood the whole way, narrowly avoiding the smash of his heel.

  She continued tumbling, throwing her legs out to roll to her feet. The troll was already coming at her. She needed to slow him down, and fast. She unsheathed her dagger with a snap, tossing it into the air and snatching the tip of the blade by her thumb and forefinger. Her left hand was uncoordinated as she tossed the dagger at him. It cut through the air, end over end. The troll stopped his advance long enough to swat the blade out of the air, the metal sparking as it struck the pavement.

  Her right arm, screaming an
d prickling with numbness, reached back to the handle of her katana. The troll raced in as she tried to unsheathe it, grabbing her by the wrist with a gigantic hand. Pinned with her bad arm reaching over to her back, he thrust a knee up, into her exposed ribs. The sheer force of the blow made a sickening pop as he broke bone and lifted her off the ground. She couldn’t think or adjust, he was too strong and too fast, and she lacked the close-quarters combat skills to battle a troll soldier. Before she could struggle to pull in another breath, a fist the size of her head smashed into her jaw, throwing her clear of him and collapsing her on the ground.

  The moment her face came to rest on the asphalt, a part of her back molar dislodged into her mouth. The remaining, broken shards of the tooth felt like the side of her tongue pressed against a razor blade. She coughed and spit, blood and fragments of tooth spewed onto the pavement. She rolled to her stomach, crawling away from him with one arm. She looked behind her, but the troll didn’t pursue. He stood still, staring out into the fields in the distance. He spotted his fallen friends, their bodies piled in the grass. His face twisted and his brow furrowed. He seethed and snorted as he looked back at her.

  “We were told not to kill you,” he said with a Russian accent. “But after what you did to my unit, accidents happen.”

  Cora scrambled to crawl away, but the troll rushed at her, grabbing her up by the katana sheath at her back. He pulled on it hard, forcing her up to her knees. The strap slid out from under her armpit, the troll guiding it to her throat. She panicked, getting to her feet and grabbing at the strap, pulling her further into him. He spun the sheath around, wrapping the strap in a tight grip around her throat, and pulled up. Higher and higher, he lifted until Cora’s feet dangled off the ground, flailing and kicking at the air. She coughed out more blood down her chin, desperate for air.