“Or both,” said Riva, and Callie giggled and shone the light at her.
One by one, the group ducked through the frame. Zeke entered last, his impatience apparently now eclipsed by his cowardice.
They advanced down the hall, guided by Callie’s light, until they reached a balconied upper floor overlooking an abandoned shopping level. A cracked dome in the ceiling allowed sunlight to steal through the gloom, but it wasn’t quite enough to disperse the darkness.
Storefronts lined the upper floor, opening into dirty, dusty chambers. Many of the signs were intact, from the glitzy facade of Fashion Central to the inert bulbs spelling Game World, but they only added to the place’s mournful quality.
“There have to be stairs somewhere,” said Callie, aiming her flashlight through the store windows. A sinister lump became a mound of sodden paper, and a hulking form turned into an office chair flipped on its side. In one store, broken mannequins were jumbled in the corner. A single plastic torso adorned the empty window display. Creepy.
“You’re so brave, Callie,” said Riva. “You’re holding that light perfectly steady, whereas I can’t stop my hands from shaking.”
Callie gave her a sweet smile. “Trust me, chickadee, you’re doing great.”
“Only because you’re here with me.” Riva pushed aside a fallen light tube with her boot. “Kade, do you think Open Hand will last much longer?”
Kade hesitated mid-step. “Why do you ask?”
“Because of all the fighting lately. You’re friends with Amity and Nikolas. Can’t you convince them to work together?”
Kade studied her. Her appearance was reminiscent of Lexi: a tall, slight woman with angular, androgynous features. But unlike Lexi, who exuded confidence, Riva seemed somehow fragile. She moved self-consciously, as if she kept her head high only by an active effort of will. A shy person determined not to be.
“They’re my friends,” he said. “But they’re tough to talk sense into.”
“I can’t stand to see them fighting. We’re only strong together.”
That was close to home. Those words had been Ash’s perpetual refrain: we’re only strong together. She hadn’t believed in individualism—Lachlan had loved to tease her, calling her a ‘bleeding-heart Codist’—but had unwavering faith in the capacity of a group to transcend any obstacle through unselfish solidarity.
Now that he thought about it, Riva and Ash had plenty in common. Despite being an Open Hand officer, Ash had spent her time working in the kitchens and medical bays. She too would have forgiven Isaac, pleaded with Rusalka, invoked the same arguments about common humanity.
Then again, Riva and Ash were different in one key respect—Ash had always been quick to judgment. She would have had little time for a smuggler like Callie Roux. Even less for a self-interested guy like Zeke…
“Kade?” said Riva. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No.” Kade took a deep breath. “Just thinking.”
The group reached an escalator, which mechanical failure had reduced to nothing more than an ugly set of stairs. The group descended to a dusty ground floor connected to numerous black tunnels. A single shaft of light offered scant illumination.
Zeke stared up at a map of the complex. It was obscured by graffiti. “Don’t they know this stuff has historic value? Fucking tagger scum.”
In the depths of one of the tunnels, something skittered. Callie aimed her shotgun at the opening. “You hear that?”
Zeke shrugged. “Rats. Gotta be. Or mutants. Mutant rats.”
“This isn’t one of those flicks you play in your lounge. I’ve done a lot more urban spelunking than any of you, and I know rats when I hear them. That was something being kicked.”
“Shine the light down there,” said Kade. “Let’s take a look.”
Callie pointed the flashlight. Despite several sweeps of the beam, nothing was revealed but dirty surfaces, broken fixtures, and refuse.
“If somebody’s down there,” Callie said, “you better come out. I’m a bloodthirsty badass, and I don’t like being jerked around.”
A slithering sound issued from a tunnel to Kade’s left. He spun. Again, nothing but shadows. In the gloom, he could make out a sign—Restrooms—and a bulky shape that, hopefully, was nothing more than an old bin.
“It’s just our nerves.” He turned back to Riva and Zeke, who were standing by the illegible map. “Come on, let’s keep—”
Something dark sped across the floor. Callie trained her beam on it, and light gleamed off its metallic surface. With a deafening eruption of sound, the object detonated. An intense flare of light swallowed Kade’s vision, and the air compressed about his head, leaving him reeling.
“Put down your guns,” said a heavily filtered voice.
Kade squinted toward the voice. His eyes stung on exposure to the light, but he forced them to remain open. Within the pink blur of his vision, two shapes formed into human silhouettes.
“On your knees,” said the growling, robotic voice. “Resistance will result in injury.”
“You can suck the shit out of my ass, shut-in,” said Zeke.
A shadow rushed forward. Kade tried to aim, but it was impossible to discern between friend and foe. The crack of a baton striking bone rang out, followed by the sound of Zeke yelping.
“Disarm the other one,” said the unseen Codist.
Something rapid swished through the air, and Kade’s hands stung from a hard impact. He hissed and dropped the pistol.
“You fucker!” said Zeke. “You fucking hit me!”
Kade stumbled forward, fists raised. A heavy weight drove into his chest. He staggered, nausea sloshing in his guts, and Riva screamed.
Hands grabbed his shoulders and forced him to his knees. As he struggled to rise, his assailant struck him across the face. Cheek throbbing and thoughts scattered, he relented.
“Stay there.” The agent looming over him wore a full mask—a standard Codist piece of gear that provided night vision, voice modulation, and environmental protection. Another agent, shorter and slimmer, stood a little further back. Zeke lay motionless at their feet.
Where were the women? Kade turned his head. There was Riva, trembling and isolated, but Callie was nowhere to be seen. Yet she’d been right there when the grenade had rolled in.
“Tell us where Vale is.” The agent kicked Kade’s gun aside. “I’m authorized to break a bone each time you say ‘I don’t know.’”
“I’m Alexis Vale,” said Riva. “Leave my friends alone.”
Shit. What was she thinking? And where the hell was Callie?
The agent inclined his masked face toward Riva. “You don’t look like our photo. Your hair is different.”
“Do you think I’m stupid? The first thing I did was change my hair.”
“Her build seems right,” said the other agent. The modulator on their mask had a subtly different timbre—less robotic growl, more mechanical crunch—and the voice beneath was higher pitched. “But didn’t Vale have a fair complexion? I’m sure—”
Riva grimaced and clutched her temples. “Oh God. My head.”
“Are you harmed?” Not even the voice filter could conceal the panic in the taller agent’s voice. “Describe your pain.”
“That flash of light hurt something in my brain. Maybe my chip, it doesn’t feel right…”
“Oh, fuck!” The agent took a step forward, no longer paying attention to Kade—a mistake on their part.
He jumped to his feet, balled his fist, and drove it hard into the back of the agent’s head. Fresh pain jolted up his arm, but the agonized cry from his target made it all worthwhile.
Drawing upon a second burst of aggressive energy, Kade tackled the agent to the ground. His adversary twisted around to claw for Kade’s shoulder, but Kade grabbed the agent’s arm and slammed it against the cement, pinning it there. “Your turn to stay down, you son of a bitch.”
“Behind you!” said Riva. “Kade, he’s got a gun! He’s—”<
br />
A gunshot roared. Kade waited for the pain, the sensation of his insides falling out, the cold creep of death…but no. The shot hadn’t been for him.
A shell tapped against the ground, followed by the hard click of another being rammed home. Callie stepped over the second agent’s body, not glancing down, and pointed the shotgun at the agent in Kade’s grip.
“Are there any more of you?” she said. “Answer quickly.”
The agent remained silent.
“Riva, go check on Zeke. I think he’s alive.”
A muffled groan confirmed the diagnosis. “That ratfucker hit me on the fucking head,” said Zeke, raising his face from the floor. “God fucking damn it. Probably knocked a fucking spike loose.”
Riva knelt beside him and directed the flashlight at his head. From here, it didn’t look like there was any blood. The agents had presumably been using minimal force, not wanting any accidental casualties. Even so, Zeke seemed to be reciting every expletive he knew.
“How’d you get away from the grenade?” said Kade.
“I’m quicker than you,” said Callie. “You looked right at it.”
Kade frowned at the body. “Your first kill.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. He was just a shadow.”
Kade moved to the corpse and removed its mask. Sadness stilled his heart for a second. Far from being a shadow, the dead agent was a girl about Callie’s age, but it would have done Callie no good to tell her so.
“I underestimated Reed,” he said, turning the mask in his hands. “I should have known he’d cover the mall.”
Riva and Zeke stumbled back to join the others, Zeke leaning on Riva’s shoulder for support. “He has a huge bruise on his head,” she said. “But judging from his rate of profanity, he’s fine.”
“I need some ice,” said Zeke. “And a sexy nurse to hold my hand. Who wants to be my sexy nurse? Any of you three would do.”
“Tough it out.” Kade hunkered before the remaining agent. “Mask off.”
The agent unclipped his mask and set it aside. He looked ordinary enough—round face, prominent nose, thinning hair. Riva pointed the beam at him, and he winced beneath the light.
“Is Reed getting all this?” said Kade. “Or are you switched off?”
“He’s hearing it,” said the agent.
“Bet you he’s lying,” Zeke said. “You know, we could really use a mind-reading cyborg right about now.”
“You killed my partner.” The agent’s tone was flat. “Our orders were only to detain you. We don’t execute people, not even murderers. It seems that’s a mercy you uncodified scum don’t bother to return.”
“Don’t take the moral high ground,” said Callie. “Don’t you dare.”
“How can you talk about morality? You animals are the reason Codism exists.” The agent closed his eyes. “She was only twenty-two.”
Callie became very still. “Take the shotgun,” Kade said to Zeke.
Zeke nodded. “Lemme hold that awhile, sweetheart.” He eased the weapon from Callie’s hands while she stared at the body, her face twitching.
“Don’t look.” Riva put an arm around Callie and hugged her close. “You had no choice, Callie.”
“Yes, she did,” said the agent. “She could have complied.”
“And you’d have destroyed her mind,” said Kade. “Tell me how many of you went into the parking complex.”
No answer. “Is there something we can tie him up with?” said Zeke. “I mean, I don’t want to ice the guy.”
“Callie,” said Kade. Callie murmured something inaudible in reply. “You and Riva go upstairs and find some cabling, ropes, wires, whatever it takes to restrain this man. Snap to it.”
“Yeah.” Callie blinked, and some of the strength returned to her voice. “Restrain him. I can do that. Riva, you keep the torch.”
After the women had disappeared up the escalator, Kade shifted closer to his sullen captive. “I’m sorry about your friend,” he said. “You misunderstand what we’re doing. We’re fighting and dying so that you can be the first generation of Codists to enjoy your freedom.”
“We are free. And Codism will never fall.”
“Yes, it will. The man who sent you here understands that as well as anyone. Better, in fact.” Kade rubbed his forehead. The headache had gotten worse, a splinter digging into his brain. “You’re the lucky one in all of this. Your other friends may already be dead.”
That got his attention. “Dead? That’s not possible. How many more of you could have been in that van?”
“It’s not about numbers. You’re up against some of the most dangerous people in Foundation. Nobody short of Lachlan himself stands a chance.”
“What is it that makes this cyborg so special?”
“Trust me.” Kade closed his eyes as fresh pain pulsed through his head. “Whether we win or lose, you’ll find out.”
CHAPTER 20
Amity stopped at the third landing. “This is high enough.”
“Trust me, I’ll never be high enough for this shit.” Lexi relaxed against the stairwell railing. “So what we are doing?”
“Creating an ambush. If we await them here, the stairs will force them into an awkward single-file approach. There’s a chance they may send someone from above, pincering us, but I’m confident I can handle that.”
“Pincering? Sounds sexy.”
“Be quiet. They’ll begin their attack with batons or possibly stun guns, though they’ll be hesitant to subject you to an electrical current. Unlike the thugs that comprise the so-called Codist military, Intel agents aren’t killers by nature. Even Reed is soft on that score. I’ll cut them down before they can find their resolve.”
“You ought to get yourself augmented too. You’d be terrifying.”
Amity pursed her lips. “Augmentations are expensive. Not all of us have blood money to spend as we choose.”
“I wouldn’t call it blood money. I make peace between the gangs. I’ve probably saved more lives than you have.”
“Saved the lives of whom? Criminals?”
A door slammed below, followed by the noise of people ascending—not at speed, but with what sounded like a respectable amount of caution. Amity pressed a finger to her lips, perhaps assuming Lexi was so fucking stupid as not to realize silence was important.
Seconds later, a door opened above. Amity frowned, took Lexi’s hand and pressed it to her forehead. Clever girl.
Lexi peeked into her eyes. Several fresh thoughts were there, waiting to be read. Lexi lying on the landing, feigning unconsciousness. Amity slipping through the door and sprinting to the level above…
Lexi nodded. Amity opened the door—its squeak was inaudible beneath the echoing footsteps—and squeezed through. As the door shut, Lexi curled on the cold steel and closed her eyes.
“I see something!” The excited voice came from above. “I think it’s Vale!”
“Yeah, that’s her,” said a deep, cautious voice from below. “Is she dead?”
“She’s not dead,” said an irritated voice from the same direction. “Why would she be dead? Do you think the excitement killed her?”
“Easy. I’m just asking a question.”
The agent above descended a step, and the steel beneath Lexi’s cheek vibrated. “This isn’t right. That drunk said the whole group went in here. So where are the others?”
“It was a trick, genius,” said the irritated agent. “This is part of it. Get on the comm to Reed before somebody pops out and blows us away.”
“Are you sure she’s faking?” said the cautious agent. “I mean, this is definitely Vale. She’s right there. Reed’s just going to tell us to apprehend her. You know how he gets when people waste his time.”
“She’s breathing, fuckbrain, and I doubt she took this opportunity to dope up and pass out. It’s a goddamn trap.”
A fourth voice joined the assembly of idiots. “Guys, just call it in.” The nasal tone suggested a young man,
barely an adult by the sound of him. “Mr. Reed will handle the rest.”
“Yeah, great,” said Cautious. “He’ll love that. ‘We’re too scared to touch her, sir. Please come down and collect her.’”
“Then you grab her,” said Irritated. “Get the promotion.”
“And maybe you’re right, and she is faking.” The cautious agent sounded even more nervous now. “We should just zap her from here.”
“I’m not zapping her. You think I want to be responsible for frying that implant? Hell, fuck it.” Feet clanged nearby, and a hand touched Lexi’s shoulder and shook her. “Hey, you troublesome bitch. What are you trying to pull?”
Lexi opened her eyes and smiled at the agent, an ugly bastard with a broad face and a menacing expression. Before he could do more than widen his eyes, she trapped his head between her hands. His mind washed over her, a confused scattering of thoughts and a mounting sense of fear.
The agent on the steps above was a tired-looking woman. The two below were men, both looking every bit as hopeless as she’d imagined them.
“If any of you come closer, I’ll wipe him,” said Lexi.
“Wipe him?” One of the agents was, as Lexi had guessed, little more than a teenager, pimpled and bewildered. “How would you do that?”
“With this chip you’re looking for. Didn’t anyone brief you?”
“Call it in,” said the agent in Lexi’s grip. His forehead was damp with sweat, which slickened her palms and left her with a strong desire to wipe her hands. “Do it quickly.”
The cautious agent—from here Lexi could see a bald spot on his scalp, which seemed tragically appropriate for his personality—snatched a mobile-comm from his belt.
“Sir,” he said, depressing its button. “We have a situation. One of our agents is, uh… He’s being held hostage.”
Lachlan’s voice crackled through the comm. “Explain.”
“Vale. She’s grabbed hold of his head, sir. She’s threatening to wipe him.”
There was silence. The agents exchanged worried looks. “She’s holding his head?” said Lachlan.
“Yes, sir. In both hands, sir.”
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