by Ava Gray
The first patient had a bullet in his gut. Without her, he’d surely die. What a fucking mess. He’d gone in wearing a vest, she had no doubt, but this was a high-powered round, and it chewed through the Kevlar and into his belly. Thankfully, he was unconscious and didn’t suffer unduly from her inexpert surgery.
Goddammit. I’m not a doctor. I shouldn’t be doing this. That didn’t stop her from washing up and donning gloves. By the time she finished, blood stained her hands, nearly to her elbows. But her fear wouldn’t let her give up on him. Once she finished with that part of the process, she stripped off her gloves and got the scalpel. Gillie sliced both her palms—a little blood wouldn’t do for him—and sealed them both over the wound.
The power built at the back of her head and then roared down her spine, flaring into her arms and out through her palms. Heat rose, sparking so she could almost see it. She felt his pain and surprise as the shot tore through his gear and into his gullet. The agony left her seeing black spots, but eventually it dulled, scaling back. By the time she had only twinges, she knew it was safe to pull away. With bloodied hands, she checked her stomach. New scar. It sat neatly next to the vertical slice. Anymore of this and I’ll look like a merc.
The next patient wasn’t nearly so bad off. She had time to clean up and knock back some bourbon before she tackled his flesh wound; that one hardly marred her skin at all. Heron popped in and out, ferrying the men back from whence they’d come. When he came back the second time, she stopped him.
“What’s going on? Those were both gunshot wounds.”
Heron got out his trusty pad. They tried to save Kestrel.
“Did it work?”
No, he wrote. The Foundation killed her.
“What’s going on now?”
They’re planning one final strike. With Dunn’s help, Mockingbird can track the location of the central facility.
“Who’s Dunn?”
The bounty hunter who was chasing you and Crow.
Shit. That would be a story and a half, if he was working for their side now. It sounded like there was more going on than she could readily squeeze out of poor Heron.
“Take me with you. I want in.”
No more sitting around. No more waiting for word. She could fight if she had to, if she was threatened. She wasn’t just a healer; she’d killed, too. As if she’d known it might come to war, she had been training on weapons—handgun, rifle, shotgun . . . she could use all with equal proficiency—since she arrived in Wichita. And she wanted to fight. It was time to put her inner steel to good use.
Heron merely nodded. And he returned for her once he’d delivered the patient he’d come for in the first place. The world swirled and melted; her stomach turned inside out. And then they arrived at the warehouse where everyone else was gathered. It was a huge, rusty place with broken windows and heavy metal rafters forming a catwalk overhead.
People sat around on oil drums, talking or playing cards. Shit. Gillie had never seen such a gathering of weirdoes in one place. Most, she didn’t recognize. A few she did. This was incredibly dangerous, but if Heron had been telling the truth—and they really meant to end this, once and for all—then this was a necessary risk. Plus, if Kestrel was dead, then the Foundation couldn’t locate them anyway.
“Everyone’s here,” Hawk said, loud enough to quiet other conversations.
But Gillie didn’t see Tanager. Hard to imagine she’d let something like this go down without being involved. Still, she sat down and waited for instructions. So far, Taye—who was talking to a woman with long, light brown hair—hadn’t noticed her arrival.
“Here’s the plan. Dunn’s going to ping his Foundation contact. When he calls back, MB traces the signal.”
“Are we sure he’ll call back? Doesn’t he know Dunn turned?” That was the man Gillie healed an hour ago. He looked pretty damn good for someone who had been gut shot.
“He knows,” someone—presumably Dunn—said. “But I’ll offer irresistible bait. See, he’s going to call and keep me on the line, long enough to triangulate my location. So he can send someone to kill me.”
The crowd murmured in appreciation; it was delightfully devious. Now they’d pit Foundation hackers against Mockingbird’s speed. Well, Gillie would put money on MB any day. His avatar stood ready in a glimmer of yellow light.
Hawk went on, “Heron will ferry us to the site, once Mockingbird gives us the location. We have to strike fast, before he has a chance to shut down and relocate.”
So when their strike team arrives, nobody’s home. Gillie knew a twinge of fear for Heron. From what she’d seen, most weirdoes paid a price for their powers, and it sounded like they might be asking too much of him. There had to be twenty people here. Twenty trips, in addition to what he’d already done? But she didn’t object. Surely Heron would say something if it was too great a burden. Well. Write something.
“I’m ready if you are,” Dunn said.
While everyone watched, he sent a text message. Within two minutes, as he’d predicted, he had a call back. “Dunn.”
He listened for a moment, while Mockingbird arched in a river of light and then . . . dove into Dunn’s phone. Not what she’d expected, but surely the most direct way to trace a call. She wondered what happened to his body, though, when he was so fully immersed in the net.
“I just wanted you to know you shot the wrong woman.”
More listening. She could tell by Dunn’s expression that the ranting on the Foundation end must be amusing. But his eyes carried a haunted shadow, belying the curl of his lips. No more than fifty seconds had passed when Mockingbird’s avatar returned to its place on the keyboard of Hawk’s netbook.
“You got me,” the bounty hunter said eventually. “I lied. I should’ve known there’s no fooling the Foundation.” Silence, and then he nodded. “Yeah, that’s where I am. You’re too clever for me. See ya soon, mate.”
In his inhuman voice, Mockingbird gave the location of the final battle.
Hawk cued the porter to begin and said, “Let’s finish this.”
CHAPTER 26
Taye spotted Gillie as soon as she ported. What the hell—
They stood in a white, high-tech room, surrounded by machines and people fed by tubes and wires like something out of a SF movie. Only they weren’t people. Not exactly. Most had something wrong with them, something extra: arms or fins or spines or fangs. These were full-on monsters, experiments gone far beyond anything Rowan could’ve imagined.
Dear God.
And it was so quiet, it sent chills down his spine.
Hawk was dividing people into strike teams as they arrived, coordinating strategy with Mockingbird on his headset. For all he knew, MB lived in the damn thing. Nothing made sense anymore, and his pain meds were wearing off. Part of him knew this was it, his last hurrah. He wouldn’t make it past this fight. Taye had been living for revenge and for Gillie, but sheer will could only carry you so far.
He strode over to her, anger blazing. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to fight, same as you.”
“But you can’t—” Only she could. Too late, he remembered what she’d done to the mental patient who attacked her. “I wish you hadn’t come.”
“I wish lots of things,” she said quietly. “But I’m not going to get them, am I?”
She didn’t attempt to hide her pain, and it stabbed him deeper than anything ever had before, worse than the cancer. “I was going to tell you.”
“When? Via posthumous DVD recording?”
So yeah, she knew. But this wasn’t the time. “I tried to keep my distance. That’s why. But you were too much for me to resist, no matter how hard I tried. I’m so sorry, love.”
Her face said she had something bitter and angry to say, words that would eviscerate him and leave him bleeding at her feet. But Hawk interrupted with their assignments; in a gesture of delicious cruelty, he teamed Taye with Gillie.
“You two will be a good mat
ch. Watch each other’s backs.”
As long as I can, he thought.
To Taye, Hawk added, “Take the bounty hunter. If he tries anything, put him down.”
Gillie stood beside him, not looking in his direction. He would like to kiss her good-bye, but it wasn’t the time for that. Together, they watched the final few arrivals as Hawk went over the strategy Mockingbird had devised.
But the plan had to be modified when Heron made the last trip. Blood trickled from his nose and eyes; he stumbled and then fell forward, crimson splattering on the white tile. Gillie ran forward, but he could tell by her expression, the man was beyond help. A rumble went through the assembled teams, fury ratcheting up a notch.
“He chose this,” Hawk said quietly. “He knew how important it is that we strike fast and cut off the head, once and for all. Don’t let his sacrifice be in vain.” He paused long enough to let it sink in. “That also means each team is responsible for getting out once the job is done and reaching the rendezvous point on their own. There’s no backup, no emergency escape this time. Now let’s do this, people.”
Hawk strode over to where Taye stood with Gillie and Dunn. “I have a special assignment for you three.”
“Yeah?” Taye asked, expectant.
“Take this flash drive. I need you to get to their servers. They’ll be on that side”—he produced a schematic and pointed—“of the facility. Everything hinges on you making it there. Plug it in, let the program run, and then retrieve it. It’s crucial you don’t leave it behind.”
If they were burning the place anyway, Taye didn’t understand why it mattered. But it wasn’t for him to question his orders. So far, they had been golden. Mockingbird ought to be just as brilliant for this final strike.
“Got it,” Gillie said.
Hawk added, “Don’t let me down.”
“What’s on that?” Dunn asked.
The big man shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. Tanager gave it to me. She said it would wipe their system beyond recovery.”
“I didn’t see her,” Gillie said.
Hawk nodded. “She came in late. She was working on the flash drive, I think.”
“Something she got from Mockingbird?” Gillie suggested.
“Doesn’t matter.” Taye didn’t get the point in debating what it might be.
As he saw it, the job was simple. Fight to the servers. Kill anything that moves. Blow things up wherever possible. Then plug in the flash drive and wait for fireworks. Yeah, simple. Except for all the guys who want us dead in between here and there.
The teams broke up, two- and three-person groups, heading out from here. The boss was no longer here in the room, though he could see the phone he’d used. They had to find the head honcho and finish this. Not caring if Gillie or Dunn saw, he chewed four more tablets and ignored the censure in Gillie’s eyes. Yeah, I should’ve told you. I’m a bastard.
Dunn checked his weapon and said, “Let me scout. I can’t imagine either of you has any experience in it, and you’ll want to keep an eye on me anyway.”
“Sounds good.” Gillie fell in behind him without another look at Taye.
God, he didn’t want her here. He’d tried too hard to shield her from ugliness and maybe, in the end, that was where he’d gone wrong. It wasn’t like this shit surprised her. She had spent her life in darkness, after all.
Since their squad hadn’t been assigned to deal with the freak show in here, they went down the west hallway; everything on this side of the facility belonged to them. They hit resistance fast, goons in black, but not battle-ready, no guns, no flak vests. Caught you flat-footed, you bastards. Dunn whipped twin guns up; equipped with silencers, he pegged both men square in the chest before they had time to turn and round. Here, the halls were gray, and the blood splatters added an interesting pattern to the tile.
“I don’t think they were on watch,” Dunn said. “So they won’t be missed. Help me move the bodies.”
Feeling lucky he hadn’t come up against the bounty hunter in a fair face-off, Taye jogged down the hall. The knives in his belly had softened, stinging eels instead of sawtooth blades. He’d get through this. One more job. I promised. But though he wouldn’t say it aloud, he was starting to feel disconnected; he didn’t know if it was the drugs or slow death come for him at last. A quote came to him, though he couldn’t remember the author: well, we were born to die. But he had no peace for it, no acceptance. All these months schooling himself to let her go and he still wanted to rage.
He hefted the shoulders while Dunn took the feet. Gillie opened a door and found an unused conference room, where they probably talked about what horrors to perpetuate next and then voted on it. She beckoned them forward, pulling out the chairs so they could hide the corpses. The second man went beside the first, and then she pushed the chairs back. There was blood in the hall, but short of finding a janitor’s closet, nothing to be done about it. Then alarms went off in some distant part of the facility—other teams at work—and it became a moot point.
“Keep moving,” he said, waving Dunn forward.
“We’re in the corporate offices,” the bounty hunter said as he cleared the next room.
It contained an executive desk, made of real mahogany. The computer equipment was top of the line. He took a moment to rummage through some memos in the inbox, and one line leapt out at him: Circulate to all staff at headquarters.
Elation surged through him. No matter what happened, it ended tonight. Everyone who walked away from this fight could do so without fear, no more looking over the shoulder, no more hunters. But for now, booted feet coming from behind demanded his attention.
Taye spun and pulled. Overhead, the lights flickered, giving the corridor a peculiar stop-motion appearance. Dunn laid down fire as the thugs rounded the corner. Most of them were disheveled or partly dressed; private soldiers didn’t expect to be hit on their home ground. Two of them fell with bullets in them; the rest opened fire.
He flung his arms out, lightning exploding out of both palms to send the enemy flying back. Four men smoked and slammed the far wall hard enough to break spines. Behind him, Dunn worked cleanup in an economical fashion, plugging any of them who still moved or moaned. To his surprise, Gillie ran over to one of the bodies and snagged a gun.
“What’re you doing?” he asked.
“Arming myself. My thing only works with a touch . . . and if I’m bleeding. I need a way to drop them at a distance.”
“Do you know how to shoot?” Dunn looked ready to take the weapon away from her.
“I do. Just stay out of my way and you won’t catch one in the back.”
Good God, she handled the weapon like a pro, checking the magazine and the safety. Astonished pride curled through him. She had hidden depths, did Gillie Flynn. While she might look like a Botticelli angel, she was a warrior through and through.
“Feisty,” the merc muttered. “Come on, then.”
The smell of smoke permeated the facility, but the alarms cut off midwail, hopefully soon enough to keep the authorities from responding. He had no idea where they were, but police involvement wouldn’t improve matters. According to the plans Hawk had shown them, they had three more turns before the server room, that many hallways to clear.
Taye paused. “If one of us falls, the others have to push on with the drive.”
The other man cut him a look, as if he understood. “Agreed.”
Excess electricity sizzled in Taye’s veins, licking along his skin in blue white sparks. He ignored the blaze of his nerve endings, ignored everything but the sight of Dunn crouched and scoping out the next room. The bounty hunter signaled clear, and they passed another empty office, but another security team was heading their way. Gunfire popped; one of the guards had lost his nerve and gone full auto, spraying at shadows. The sound of his weapon was unmistakable. Stupid bastard. Since they were moving quietly, the goons didn’t know they were right on top of them until it was too late.
Gillie and
Dunn flanked him, laying down cover fire as he lashed out. New thing, lightning storm. The electricity danced around the thugs in blue waves, surging through them endlessly. They jerked and screamed, weapons discharging into the air. But fuck, that took a lot out of him. He swayed, black spots before his eyes, and he had to lean against the wall to keep from falling down.
“Show off,” Gillie muttered. “Don’t do that again. We don’t need them to go out in such a spectacular fashion.”
Dunn nodded. “True. They just need to die.”
He’s not going to make it, Gillie thought. If she hadn’t been so angry, she would be heartbroken. But Taye’s face told the truth; he was all cheekbones and eyes, skin pale as parchment. Even his lips had lost all color and the sclera carried bloody veins, expanding each time he powered up. By the time he finished, they would be crimson. Of course, by the time this was done, he would be dead. Understanding why he’d been so determined to push her away didn’t make it better.
He did dial down the juice as they pushed forward, clearing the corridors one by one. More men died. She shot some of them herself. The first time she nailed a guard, she expected to feel . . . something. Pleasure, guilt, remorse, but there was nothing. There was no room for anything but grim determination. Taye had the flash drive, but if—when—he fell, she or Dunn would take it from his cold, dead fingers and carry on.
No. The idea of a world without him in it threatened to end her. With iron control, she edged the pain aside. I’m still here. Just because he made the choice for me doesn’t mean it has to stand. If we get through this, I can save him. The bastard had to have known she’d heal him; therefore, it rendered his refusal to confide inexplicable.
Live through this, Taye. Live. Afterward, we’ll fight and I’ll fix you. It’ll be fine.
As he swung around a corner, Dunn executed some pencilpusher who was working late. But Gillie didn’t feel sorry for him. This was Foundation headquarters—a mythical place for her kind—and he had to know what went on here. No way to avoid the horror; it was everywhere.