Bridge: Bridge & Sword: Apocalypse (Bridge & Sword Series Book 7)

by JC Andrijeski

  She spoke aloud, across the several yards standing between them.

  Hearing her own words, Chandre winced.

  Even so, she knew any noise they made now likely wouldn’t matter anyway. If someone watched them enter the building, either from inside or outside, they wouldn’t need to rely on sound to find them. Thinking about this, Chandre frowned, again looking at the lightless body hanging limply from Rig’s arms.

  Her shoulders tensed as she stared.

  “I have a feeling her husband wouldn’t approve of this,” she muttered, her voice lower. “Or her brother. Are you thinking we won’t see them inside?”

  Tarsi shocked her, giving her a grin.

  “Stop being such a baby. We need her closer.”

  “Closer?” Chandre’s frown deepened. “Closer to what, old woman?”

  “To the child,” Tarsi said, as if that were obvious, too. “And the Sword.”

  Chandre’s felt her muscles tighten all over again.

  She didn’t answer, though.

  Mostly because she had no idea where to start.

  She followed Tarsi with her eyes as the old woman walked, still clutching Varlan’s jacketed arm in one hand. The two of them and Damon followed after Rig, who held Allie out in front of him, his arms supporting her as delicately as if the Bridge’s body were made of glass.

  Chandre’s eyes returned to Tarsi, maybe to avoid staring at that overly-pale face.

  Tarsi herself looked misleadingly frail as she hunched against the wind, blinking up at the rain that had once more started to fall, her dark hair damp and glistening in the light from the consoles. Wearing nothing but a traditional black dress from Asia, the old woman leaned on Varlan’s arm as she walked, navigating her cane with her other hand.

  She really did look like one of Vash’s people. Perhaps she’d been living in ice caves for too long. Perhaps the old woman had lost sight of how the world worked.

  “I heard that,” Tarsi muttered.

  “Maybe you were meant to,” Chandre retorted, without missing a beat, irritated with the ancient seer all over again for some reason.

  “Hmmph,” Tarsi said. “Another brat. Figures.”

  Chandre snorted. “Who was the first one?”

  “Who you think?” Tarsi said in her oddly lilting patois. She clicked softly, even as a smile crept up her face. “The Bridge. Only she quiet now. No smart mouth now, eh?”

  Tarsi chuckled at her own words.

  For some reason, Varlan found the old woman’s words amusing, too. He winked at Chandre as they passed, smiling at her as he clicked softly in humor.

  Chandre couldn’t decide if she should be irritated or appalled.

  She glanced back at Yarli when the African seer slammed the door shut on the armored vehicle. Yarli took her place in the line entering the Tower, following after Anale. Chandre saw a faint smile on the African woman’s face, and felt her own mouth and forehead tighten in frustration as she turned to watch Rig carry Allie through the dark doorway.

  Still watching the street, her gun gripped in her hand, she followed after Yarli.

  She watched the old woman walk carefully over the segmented pavement by the door, guiding Varlan to skirt trash and broken bottles, looking both ways without slowing, and altogether acting as if their location, the time of night and their current circumstances were the most normal thing in the world.

  Tarsi touched Dante’s cheek fondly as she passed through the door, and the kid grinned at her, looking like a teenaged scarecrow in her hoodie sweatshirt and too-large jeans cinched by a silver-studded leather belt. The belt looked more like a dog collar than an article of clothing.

  Behind her, still holding Vikram by one shoulder, Stanley burst out in an involuntary-sounding laugh.

  Ignoring him, Chandre smacked the kid, Dante, on the shoulder to get her to stop signing to Vikram and to go inside with the others. When the girl looked over with a scowl, Chandre met her gaze unflinchingly, motioning with her head for the kid to go through the opening––or else––even as she caught hold of the organic-paned door with one hand.

  “Inside,” Chandre told her, her voice abrupt, but not harsh. Grunting, she motioned towards the door. “Don’t stand out here like some servant. You are wonder girl, are you not? Get inside, before someone decides to shoot you. Or not give you that car.”

  “Yeah, right, like that would ever happen,” Dante snorted. “And hey, what’s with the manhandling? Vik’s one of the good guys. Where’ve you been?”

  “Nothing can be certain anymore, little one.”

  “Vik is,” she said, her voice warning. “Vik’s certain.”

  Chandre smiled, in spite of herself. “I hope you are right, cousin. I, myself, know very little these days. Now get your ass inside… or I will drag you by your ear.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Dante grinned.

  “She just might,” Stanley muttered.

  Chandre glared at him, feeling a surge of real anger. “You do think little of me, brother. This one is less than a cub. She is still a toddler!”

  When Chandre turned that time, she scowled openly at the teenager. “Inside, or I will become like a human parent and spank you. Would you prefer that?”

  “Whatever you’re into,” Dante said, rolling her eyes.

  That time, Chandre felt her cheeks flush hot with fury, but when she looked at the young human, she saw her grinning at her. Just then, Vikram burst out in an involuntary laugh, too. When Chandre glared at him, he motioned her off with an apologetic wave.

  “It is not you, sister. It is her. She embarrasses me in such ways all the time.” He gave Dante an affectionate smile. “Don’t be angry. She is just a cub.”

  Still fuming, Chandre glared at Dante.

  Dante grinned at her, winking. “I didn’t say I’d mind,” she said, shaking her hair out of her face as she stared at Chandre defiantly. “What are you so bent for? From what I hear, I’m exactly your type… right?”

  “She is teasing you, sister,” Stanley said, clicking at Chandre softly. “According to Vikram, it is her favorite pastime with the techs.”

  “We might have to train that hobby out of her,” Chandre muttered darkly.

  That time, Stanley and Vikram both laughed, and Chandre was forced to admit defeat when she saw the kid grinning at her.

  Chandre motioned sharply towards the door, and that time, Dante strolled through, giving Chandre a last smile before she focused back on the monitor still clutched in one hand. She walked through the doorway of the building without looking up from that monitor again.

  Surli went in next, then Damon, as soon as Chandre motioned for him to release the door. Chandre took his place, standing guard as Yarli followed.

  She exchanged a quick look with Stanley, who came in last, bringing Vikram.

  You really think he’s clean? Chandre sent quietly.

  Stanley gave her a brief look, then nodded, once. I do, sister. He was genuinely worried about the girl. It seems brother Jon made Dante his responsibility. He assumed her a captive. Or dead.

  Chandre exhaled, still feeling a few extra nerves tremble under her skin. All right. Let him go once we get inside. But keep an eye on him. Did he track us through the girl?

  Yes, Stanley sent, promptly enough that he must have asked the question of Vikram himself. He hacked her implant. When he let me read him, I saw that he didn’t tell the others he had such an implant on her. He seemed genuinely relieved to find Anale with us, too, and to find you in charge of our operation on the ground. He is confused, yes… but likely no more than the rest of us. Stanley glanced over his shoulder at her, flashing a white smile in the dark. I think he had expected the worst, coming here, although he told Balidor where he was going.

  Chandre frowned again, trying to think.

  Do you know what the hell she is up to? Chandre asked the African seer, motioning towards the inside of the Tower. The old woman. Tarsi?

  No, sister. His trademar
k humor grew more prevalent in his thoughts. But she certainly seems to know, so I’m willing to risk it. Or are you questioning her loyalty, too?

  Chandre didn’t bother to answer.

  Nodding, more to herself that time, and not in answer to his question, she caught hold of the door, yanking it closed behind them as she followed Stanley inside.

  49

  BAD MOON RISING

  CHANDRE FROWNED, GLANCING ahead at the tall female seer who walked protectively alongside Rig, who still held the body of the Bridge. Anale walked soundlessly, a gun in her hand, a gun she aimed down the dark corridor leading to the lobby.

  They were inside the building’s back foyer now.

  Still frowning, Chandre followed them down the hall, which fell into pitch darkness as soon as the door clicked shut behind them. Within a few more steps, they reached the edge of the front lobby, where the ceiling opened up. Chandre found herself standing in a dimly lit alcove, just behind the building’s main security station.

  Through the open wall in front of them, soldiers in military uniforms walked back and forth, holding much bigger guns than the ones they carried.

  Not many soldiers, though, she noted, and the tanks had apparently moved on, perhaps to join the others at the hotel.

  Chandre watched as Anale ventured carefully into the main lobby, sticking to the shadows by the wall and holding her gun out in front of her. She left Rig, the Bridge, Tarsi and Varlan standing just behind and to the left of the security desk, and under full cover from the soldiers stationed in front of the Tower.

  Chandre blinked into the dim lighting of the high-ceilinged lobby, then down at floors covered with expensive and real-looking marble tile.

  In front of her, just visible past the L-bend in the corridor, Chandre saw two rows of elevators, in full view of the security station.

  But that wasn’t what caught her eye.

  “What the dugra a’ kitre happened here?” she muttered.

  Copying Anale, she raised her sidearm to shoulder level, pushing Tarsi deeper into the alcove behind the security station before signaling Varlan to stay with her.

  The older seer nodded, his violet eyes shining faintly in the dim light through the shattered wall that once faced the park. Chandre felt her whole body tense when the sound of engines and machinery grew audible on the street outside. She could tell by the sound that whatever they were, they were still a few blocks away, but moving closer, and at a relatively fast clip.

  She looked back at the floor of the lobby, trying to think.

  Dead bodies lay just in front of the security desk.

  She blinked, staring at them.

  In death, she couldn’t tell at first if they were human or seer.

  She noticed a few of the taller bodies wearing slightly different uniforms compared to the humans, and pegged those taller corpses as likely belonging to seers. Once she noted the difference in uniform, identification of race grew easier.

  Almost three dozen bodies spread across the room as a whole, or so she estimated from her cursory scan. Only about a quarter of those were seer.

  She knew she was stalling though. She had to think faster.

  Chandre saw Rig walk gingerly around a few more bodies collapsed along the wall, still holding the Bridge carefully in his arms.

  She motioned for him to stay still, then did another visual sweep of the room, before frowning at the jacked open elevator shafts. She looked behind her, for the doorway to the stairs. That door had bullet holes in it as well, and the handle looked misshapen, as if it had been melted into some perverse shape, likely to keep it from opening.

  Looking down the next corridor, Chandre saw a door to what looked like a second staircase. That door remained ajar. A dead body propped it open, crammed sideways into the opening and covered in enhanced Kevlar.

  Glancing back at the main lobby, she counted more bodies by one of the elevator shafts, along with at least one gun that appeared to have exploded, leaving black scorch marks and broken tile.

  She caught Dante’s face then and winced, seeing how pale the kid had gotten as she stared around at all the death. The greenish glow of the monitor she held made her look ghostly, and even paler than she’d looked outside. Chandre saw her full-lipped mouth firm, a sickly expression on her face before she looked away from the nearest of the fallen bodies.

  Glancing at where the kid had been staring, Chandre saw a female whose skull had half-exploded, likely from a bullet.

  “Which way, old woman?” Chandre said, swiveling her gaze to Tarsi. She used the link, switching to sub-vocals to remain silent. “Up or down?”

  The woman seemed to think for a moment.

  Up, she motioned in sign language.

  Chandre frowned.

  From the open elevator shafts, it sure as hell looked like the Sword and the others had gone down. And that’s where the construct seemed to be the most intense, from everything Varlan and Yarli told them outside.

  “You sure about that?” she said.

  Up, Tarsi repeated with gestures, no doubt in her expression. I am sure, little sister.

  Chandre couldn’t help snorting at that.

  “All right,” she said through the link.

  It occurred to her in a vague kind of defeat that she’d already decided to follow the old woman, whatever fool place it led them. She motioned at Anale, then at Varlan.

  “Stairs. That one.” She motioned for the second staircase she’d found, the one with the body propped in the opening. “The other ones look blocked. Some kind of fire happened down there.” Seeing the blank look on Anale’s face, she frowned. “Now. We don’t have much time. Same order as before, sister, if you please.”

  Anale’s expression cleared.

  She nodded from where she stood by a wall missing half of its tile panels. Touching her ear, she ignited her headset, switching to sub-vocals.

  “We’ve got maybe a minute before they next group gets here,” she told Chandre.

  “Same affiliation as before?” Chandre asked.

  “No.” Anale shook her head. “Looks like that bunch went to the hotel, just like we thought. This is more SCARB. Less FEMA and federal military. This lot might be going to the hotel too, or trying to cut off retreat and evac.”

  Chandre saw the female’s dark eyes glance around the silent foyer.

  “This place looks dead to me,” she said. “Like the fight’s over.”

  “Or moved elsewhere, perhaps?” Varlan suggested, also on the link.

  Chandre didn’t answer, but felt her jaw harden. “My order stands. The elevators are out of the question. The main staircase is melted shut, and we can’t stay here. They’ll scan the lobby as they pass. They’d be stupid not to, if they have people inside.”

  Anale nodded.

  She was already picking her way rapidly across the room.

  She reached the door to the second stairwell right as Stanley and Damon finished lifting the body silently out of the opening while Vikram held the door. Chandre watched them carry the dead human to the wall nearest the security desk, laying it just as soundlessly next to a body short enough that it was also likely human.

  Not like it mattered at this point.

  Sending up a brief prayer for the souls around her, Chandre motioned towards Anale a second time, using hand signals to indicate she should light the way.

  “After you,” Chandre said through the link.

  Giving her a curt nod, Anale did as Chandre asked, still holding her gun out in front of her. She paused long enough to touch her headset. Once she was out of view of the street outside, and therefore the uniformed soldiers, she activated a second switch, bringing up the sharp, blue-tinted light embedded in the right shoulder of her armored vest.

  The light illuminated the staircase and another body that lay there, which Anale stepped over after barely a glance.

  Chandre watched her creep quietly up the stairs to the first landing.

  She waited for gunfire, for
any sound that indicated they might have company, but heard nothing. Well, nothing but the occasional chirp of a radio on one of the soldiers out front, and what sounded like a tank approaching on the streets outside.

  Glancing around at the walls, Chandre noted that the Sword had already destroyed the main surveillance system. She couldn’t feel any others, nor could she pick them up on her portable frequency scanner.

  “All right,” she said, exhaling into the link. “Everyone else.” She gave Dante a pointed look. “Keep the light from that monitor out of sight of the street, girl. In fact, turn it off until we’ve got the doors closed behind us.”

  That time, Dante didn’t argue. She dimmed her hand-held at once.

  Glancing at Rig next, Chandre told him, “Let us know when you need one of us to take the Bridge, brother. Don’t let yourself get overtired. We will all take a turn, if necessary.”

  Rig nodded, but his expression looked faintly impatient.

  Truthfully, the Bridge didn’t look particularly heavy in his arms. Chandre knew that might change, however, depending on how high up the old woman intended to take them.

  Hell, one of them might end up carrying Tarsi.

  Tarsi chuckled softly at her thought, glancing over her shoulder as she followed Rig through the staircase door.

  Watching the others disappear after her, Chandre remained where she was, holding a gun on the lobby as, one by one, they followed Anale, Rig and Tarsi up the stairs.

  While she waited, she found herself staring again at the jacked open elevator doors, frowning.

  Anale was right. It was too damned quiet. Even if the fight had moved elsewhere, it shouldn’t be this quiet. It felt like something wrong was happening.

  Whatever that something was, it was happening below ground, not upstairs.

  Chandre didn’t voice the thought aloud, though, not even to Stanley.

  When she was the last one outside the stairwell, Chandre backed towards the door as well, her gun still aimed into the dimmer light by the entrance of the Tower.

  No one came through.

  Not a sound stirred the bodies, burn holes, broken glass or shattered tiles scattered around the lobby floor.