by Reese Hogan
A black Dhavnak warplane, a little farther out, dipped low and dropped explosives that erupted near the tank yard they’d escaped through the previous day. The huge report echoed through Blackwood’s skull and caused Holland to clamp his hands over his ears and open his mouth in a silent scream. Blackwood grabbed his elbow and pulled him through the gate before they could change their minds, though every bone in her body begged her to run in the opposite direction.
She yanked Holland up the steps leading into the complex. Soldiers poured from the building all around them, and not a single one so much as looked at them. Right before they reached the door, Holland’s legs buckled, but Blackwood hauled him back up with a violent wrench of his arm.
“You can make it!” she said. If he fell now…
“But, ma’am!” he protested. “It’s too late! The Dhavvies are here! This is out of our control, Blackwood!”
She shouted directly in his ear. “No, it’s not too late! If they take the complex today, then we have to erase evidence of those mines before they get to them! It could be our last chance!”
She guided him to the door without releasing his arm. He staggered as she shoved him through. All the incoming sensory data was overwhelming him, she could tell.
Another explosion shook the building, its report crashing through the thick walls. They both stumbled and Holland almost went down again. She pulled him back up. Still holding his wrist, she pushed her tired body into a run. The underside of her arm prickled painfully. She chose to think of it as evidence that the dekatite mark would be fully ready when she needed it.
They were in the hallway, almost to the stairway heading down to the basement, when someone came hurtling toward them, rifle clutched in one hand. His face was streaked red with heat and soot. He paused at Blackwood’s side.
“Orders are to report immediately to the courtyard!” he shouted. “The Dhavvies are in the base.”
“We’re on it, sir,” Blackwood said.
“You’re going the wrong way!”
“Lost our rifles, sir. Heading for replacements.”
“For the love of… No one has time for this.” He fumbled at his waist, yanked a pistol out, and stuck it in her belt. “Get rid of the bag and get out there!” he snapped. Then he was gone, as fast as he’d arrived.
Blackwood pulled Holland along again, turning a corner and rushing them down the two flights of stairs to the basement so fast that Holland missed the last couple. He crashed to the hard floor, letting out a painful grunt. She leaned down to pull him up again, but he thrust a hand out, warding her off. Blackwood bit her lip. She knew she was pushing him too hard.
“Should I carry you?” she said.
He struggled to his hands and knees, gasping for breath. “Blackwood… I want to know what you’re… planning. What’s to stop you… striking me… with your lightning?”
“Maybe you could wait outside,” she said.
“That’s all you’ve… got? You can’t… gonna kill yourself…”
“No. I can do it.” She bent, ready to throw him over her shoulder if she had to.
“I’m OK!” Holland bit out. His uncharacteristic lack of respect made Blackwood blink. He really was being pushed over the edge. Holland struggled to his feet, catching himself on the wall briefly before standing on his own again.
“You said you were with me,” Blackwood continued, resuming her pace. The iron door Zurlig had led them through was visible at the end of the empty hall. It seemed all the scientists had disappeared – probably into proper bomb shelters.
“I know, CSO,” Holland said, huffing along at her side. “I’m just questioning your ability to use uncontrollable lightning to collapse an underground mine!”
The lab door had been left slightly ajar – a marked difference from the three sets of locks Zurlig had had to open on their last visit. It was dark inside except for one flickering galvanized bulb at the very far end. Shadows of clutter spread across the floor; not only all the vehicles they’d been experimenting with, but the remnants of the disaster Blackwood had pulled down on them before she’d run. In the poor lighting, it was impossible to tell if Zurlig’s and Marson’s burned bodies were still inside.
No Dhavvies had come through here yet. Of that she was sure. Only now that she saw the gleam of the sharp-faced dekatite mountain, comprising the whole back wall, did she feel daunted by her self-imposed task. She knew they were mines, although the original entrances had been covered over. A good enough explosion should collapse them in on themselves or at least knock down enough overhead rock to slow progress in and out. But would a single strike of lightning do it? Would multiple strikes?
“What about your mark, Holland?” she asked as they headed through the huge room. “Have you even tried it yet?”
“Tried it, CSO? Of course I haven’t tried it!”
“Does that tingling I describe feel the same in your mark? Almost like an electromagnetic spark under your skin?”
“I don’t know, ma’am! It just feels like… damaged nerves or something.”
“You must have admitted to yourself you might be able to cause lightning too, though. Right?”
“I…”
“I’m thinking that if the two of us tried together, we may have a better chance,” Blackwood said.
She skirted around a tank and paused beside a military truck facing the wall. The dark gray of the dekatite flashed eerily in the sporadic lighting. Down here, the booms from outside were muffled; it was like a different world. Their words echoed throughout the cavernous room.
She tried to focus on that tingle in her arm. It wasn’t strong now, not like it had been earlier in the cellar. Not good enough. It works better when I’m angry. No question there. When I’m scared. When she’d been sure Zurlig would get Holland killed. When those bombs had been falling from the plane. Maybe it was a desperation thing. But how on Mirrix do I explain that to Holland?
She took a deep breath and turned to the young deckman. He was right beside her now, staring uncertainly at the dekatite wall. “Try concentrating on your mark,” she told him. “On the tingling. But at the same time–”
“Stop right there, Mila Blackwood!”
The voice rang out from her right, reverberating from the walls. Holland’s breath hitched, and he dug his fingers into her bicep. A figure stepped forward into the flickering patch of light. Blackwood’s throat went dry. His hair was darker, his chest broader, his face harder… but she recognized him. Cu Zanthus. And he wasn’t alone.
He held Andrew against his body, with a length of rope wrapped around his neck. Andrew’s hands were digging at the taut rope, trying to get his fingers beneath it, but Cu Zanthus held it too tightly. Andrew stared at her through teary eyes, his dark face flushed and desperate in the lambent light. He looked stunned, as if he still hadn’t quite grasped what was happening.
Blackwood’s jaw clenched. Andrew had gone and done exactly what she’d told him not to.
“You’re surrounded!” said Cu Zanthus. “Surrender now if you value your brother’s life.”
Blackwood glanced behind her, and saw several bodies materializing from the shadows in the dark room. “How did you…” Her gaze shot back to Cu Zanthus and her brother. “Andrew?”
“All he asked was if the things you told him were true. Nothing he said after that came… willingly.” He glanced at Holland. “I’m interested in the stuff you were telling your comrade just now. Very interested.”
“What do you think you’ll do?” Blackwood said harshly. “You don’t own Ellemko yet. You gonna capture us? Take us to whatever underground network you have here?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. It’s more forward than we usually operate, but sometimes we’re forced in a different direction.”
Blackwood could sense Cu Zanthus’s men moving forward into a semicircle around her and Holland. Holland’s gaze hadn’t left Cu Zanthus; he seemed frozen where he stood. Blackwood’s hand brushed the pistol in her belt.
“Don’t even think about it!” Cu Zanthus barked. He pulled the two ends of the crossed cord tight. Andrew’s eyelids fluttered and his mouth opened in a frantic draw for air.
Blackwood screamed. Her mark erupted in needle-sharp stabs. She tried to hurl the sudden burst of energy straight into Cu Zanthus, but either poor luck or her own subconscious fear of hitting Andrew sent the strike into the dekatite wall instead. The lab was plunged first into eye-searing brilliance, then abruptly into blackness. A huge crack sounded, and the whole room shuddered as the thunder and shock wave roared through it. Cries erupted from all around her. Another massive spark from the light bulb showed her the dekatite wall stood intact, but a crack now zigzagged down its face. The crack extended to the ceiling – and chunks were starting to fall. That was all she had time to see before the room went dark again. Her vision burned from the flash.
Disoriented, she staggered, catching herself on Holland. That same wave of fatigue and weakness from before grabbed hold of her, like she’d been hit by a concrete slab.
“Andrew…” she choked out.
“On it!” Holland responded. He extracted himself and disappeared, and Blackwood crumpled to the floor. The thunder still echoed in her eardrums, and crashes sounded from all around her. She peered through the darkness in the direction of the doorway. Lights from the well-lit hallway illuminated the entrance. The falling ceiling didn’t extend that far back – not yet – but that could change in an instant. She had to get Holland and Andrew out, and fast. But that window of light might as well have been across an ocean.
Splinters of pain and shock shot through Blackwood like needles of ice. She tried to push herself up, but her body spasmed and she went down again. Hopelessness washed through her. Andrew and Holland would be better off than her, but not by much. They’d never make that door, not before they were captured or killed.
Still fighting her leaden body, she turned, dragging herself one painful fraction at a time toward the truck she and Holland had been standing beside.
Before she reached it, an arm latched around her neck from behind. “Got you, you lunatic Belzene bitch!” someone hissed into her ear. She was yanked to her feet, one of the man’s arms still tight around her neck and the other pinning down her right arm. Lightheadedness rocked her, threatening to pull her from consciousness. Someone was yelling. A few people. She was sure she heard Holland’s voice in there, but before she could make out his words, two gunshots echoed off the walls. Xeil’s grace! Two shots. Holland and Andrew. No! Can’t think that!
With the hand that wasn’t being restrained, Blackwood pulled her own gun from her belt and aimed it over her shoulder, then squeezed the trigger. It exploded next to her ear. She screamed as the physical pain from the bang hit her eardrum. But the man released her. Another spasm seized her almost immediately and she fell brutally back to the ground. The concrete floor slammed against her body, jarring her to the bones.
The dark, boxy shape of the truck was an arm’s length in front of her. But Holland… She looked in the direction he’d disappeared, feeling the mad pulse of her heart where her chest pressed against the hard floor.
A second later, she heard pounding footsteps, barely audible over the ringing in her left ear, and suddenly, Holland was at her side.
“I have Andrew,” he said. His voice came out terrified and breathless, making him sound about sixteen. Blackwood looked up. She could barely see either of them, although she could hear Andrew’s labored breathing.
“You weren’t shot!” she said.
“No, ma’am. But–”
“Talk later,” she ordered. “Right now, help us into the truck. It’s our only chance.” She managed to jam the pistol back into her belt as she struggled to her knees.
“Yes, CSO.” Holland opened the truck door and pushed a still-wheezing Andrew in, then leaned down and pulled Blackwood the rest of the way to her feet. His breath was coming fast, tumbling closer and closer to full-blown panic. Firm orders. Don’t let him think.
“Grab the duffel!” she shouted. “Toss it in.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Blackwood turned to squeeze over Andrew and into the driver’s seat. The keys were in the ignition. There was no way she’d get out through those narrow hallways. Garages? There must be some sort of opening to get all these huge vehicles in here… unless they shrouded them in. No matter. There wasn’t time to look, especially not in the dark. She slid one hand over the wires and dials of the shrouding drive, installed at the dash. As she’d expected, the truck’s steel body was lined with arphanium pipes.
She turned the key, and the truck came to life with a soft purr. There were no lights, but the even hum of the electric motor was enough to alert everyone to their presence. The sounds of gunfire filled the air, pinging from the steel of the truck.
“Ditch your pendant,” Blackwood yelled to Holland, “and get in!”
“You’re shrouding?” Holland yelped.
At her side, Andrew jerked, as if thinking of leaping from the truck. She threw an arm across his waist.
“Just get in!” she screamed. Still holding Andrew, she opened the driver’s side door a crack and looked back, toward that window of light to the hallway. The last thing she wanted was to leave other shrouding vehicles for the Dhavvies to follow them.
She sent a burst of will toward the light, as strong as she could muster. Pain flared through her dekatite mark as multiple branches of lightning slashed from the doorway, sending lances of voltage through half the vehicles in the room – and hopefully, destabilizing the ceiling even more.
But the effort cost her. As she shut the door, her head spun. Her forehead cracked against the glass before she realized it was tipping. She shoved herself upright, even though the truck seemed to be spinning around her. It wasn’t – it was still stationary – but she knew she’d better get that shrouding drive up and running before she attempted to drive it. There wouldn’t be much time once the truck started moving.
She hit the button on the dash to cycle the solar power reserves, then threw the lever to activate the shrouding drive. She’d only ever seen it done once, when it was first installed and all the department heads had been given emergency training. She hoped she remembered it correctly. First the lever, then the two dials at the far right… Her head pounded. The truck still seemed to be turning, slowly, nauseatingly. She blocked out the screaming, the gunshots, the shaking of the vehicle as it was buffeted by bullets. She did the rest instinctually, letting her body do the remembering. And she must have done something right, because the whole dash and windscreen lit up bright blue, sending another stab of pain behind her eyes. She remembered the bright blue. It was even more searing in this dark room than it had been underwater.
No more time to waste. She pressed her foot to the treadle.
“Holland!” she said through gritted teeth as the truck leapt toward the dekatite face. “You better have gotten rid of that pendant!”
“M- Mila!” Andrew stuttered. “Holland. H- He shot him. He shot Holland!”
Blackwood looked to the right. In the wash of dazzling blue, she saw Andrew kneeling on the seat, leaning toward the half-open door. Her heart seized.
“He shot him!” Andrew repeated, his words shrill with hysteria.
“Shut the door, Andrew.”
“But he–”
“It’s too late! Shut the door!” Even now, the front of the truck was disappearing into the dekatite; they were already shrouding, and by the time she’d slammed the brakes, they themselves would be within the rock.
Andrew still wasn’t reacting.
“For Xeil’s sake,” Blackwood shrieked, “we can’t shroud with an open door! We’ll be ripped apart!” She lunged around him and grabbed the handle, then pulled back as hard as she could. The sudden motion flooded her with dizziness a hundred times worse than before, so intense she lost any notion of up or down. The air went ice cold. Her consciousness ebbed, like a wave was pulling her
away. She clawed to hold on. She couldn’t… not now…
“Mila?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but the world spun away. Darkness consumed her.
Chapter 15
KLARA YANA’S CAPTURE
Klara Yana’s first thought, as she stared at the dekatite wall where Blackwood and Andrew had vanished, was that none of it was real. She’d passed out on the Blackwoods’ couch, the CSO had gone on without her, and nightmares had dominated her tired mind. The sensations around her were somehow too intense to be real: the hard concrete against her prone body, the excruciating pain in her side, the sharp smell of blood mingled with dust and cordite, the needle-sharp tingling in her palm, the incomprehensible shouts, the distant blasts, the crashes as the huge lab came apart. Even when hands grasped her armpits and hauled her up, the terror of Blackwood leaving her alone with the Dhavnaks seemed overblown. They’re on my side. No one meant to shoot me.
Some of the words around her were finally breaking through. “… Belzenes in the corridor…” “…got a sample…” “…nothing to get through…” “…out this way…” Chaos. She was tossed over someone’s shoulder, and felt a gush of fresh blood down her side. Everything seemed blurred, shapes changing too fast to make out before they were gone. Whoever had her was moving, running even, and it didn’t help. She dug her fingers into his shoulder blade, fixating on the one thing close enough to see. The back of his head. His hair – short, dark, curly. A dark-skinned neck below that. Belzene. Soldier?
Someone on the other side of her cursed. “This way, this way, you fool!” The man holding her abruptly veered the other way, and the room spun again. She squinted her way through it, staring at the blood soaking the bottom half of the man’s jacket. Her blood. Moments later, she realized seeing the blood meant the light had brightened. Stairs. Smoke-filled air. A breeze. Heat. Running. Nausea. A distant flicker of fear. No. Misunderstanding.