Viper Game

by Christine Feehan

  "My name is Trap. I'm a friend of your father's. We're like you. Enhanced. I don't know if you know what that means, but we've had experiments done on us." He bent to examine the bodies of the two soldiers, looking for keys. He could open the cells, but it would be easier with the actual keys.

  Adrenaline had kept him going, but now that the two guards had been dispatched, he felt the effects of the wrenching of his body through the cement. He felt sick and dizzy. He couldn't think too much on it because he had to get out of the cell and into the next one if he was going to try to save that prisoner as well.

  "Give me a minute," he said, and sank down to the floor beside one of the fallen soldiers.

  The children were a little unnerving with their wide, unblinking eyes staring at him, trying to make up their minds whether or not he was friend or foe. Still, they looked just like Wyatt. Wyatt was one of the few people he could call his friend and he was intensely loyal to his friends. There was no doubt in his mind that these were Wyatt's children.

  The little girl signed again.

  He smiled at her. "Yes, I'm all right. Going through that thick of a barrier, like the outside of your cell, is hard on my body."

  She frowned, and he found himself smiling. She was so tiny, her hands and feet like a doll's, but her intellect showed in her facial expressions and she looked so much like Wyatt when she frowned that Trap wanted to laugh. Her little hands moved even faster.

  "How did I go through the wall?" Trap asked the question aloud. He put his head down and drew several deep breaths, trying to recover. The idea of repeating the experience was becoming harder to think about. "It's complicated, and no, you can't do it. Your bodies won't allow you to do it."

  For the first time, the other child signed.

  Trap's heart jumped when he saw her question. "What's a father? That's a good question, baby. I didn't have much of one, but your father is the best. The absolute rock solid best. You know how Pepper takes care of you? Looks after you? That's a mother. A father is the male version of a mother."

  He didn't know how better to explain it to them. He felt a little silly sitting on the floor of a prison beside two dead bodies attempting to explain parents to two seventeen-month-old babies. How could they possibly comprehend the things he was telling them?

  He opened the jacket of the soldier closest to him, for the first time realizing how cold the cell was. "Do they always keep it cold down here?"

  The two babies were both shivering. He had barely registered that fact; now he could see that they were very cold. The more adventurous one signed again.

  "They keep it cold so you can't move around very fast, is that right? Is that what you're saying?" Trap asked, feeling a slow burn of anger all over again.

  The little heads nodded, the dark caps of wavy hair bobbing around their faces. He felt his heart melting a little. He didn't even like kids. Well... that wasn't exactly the truth. He didn't know if he liked them or not. Most of the time they seemed annoying. He ignored their existence, but these children seemed bright. He connected with intelligence, no matter the age.

  The idea that these children, who clearly had a difficult time functioning in the cold, were kept in such conditions kept his anger growing. Pepper, it's freezing down here. Hurry up. I found the keys to their cells.

  I'm on my way, Pepper responded. It's very narrow in here. I'll be there in a few minutes.

  Don' open the cells, Trap, Wyatt advised.

  They're cold and afraid, Trap explained, feeling a little ridiculous. He wasn't the kind of man to even notice such things other than in a purely scientific way, but for some reason, he wanted to hold both little babies close to him and warm them up. He figured it had to be because of his relationship with Wyatt. They deliberately keep these cells freezing.

  They have somethin' in them other than snake, possibly cheetah, Wyatt said. So they're extremely fast. I saw Ginger runnin' in the swamp and I couldn' believe how fast she was. Faster than we are, Trap. They must keep it cold down there to keep them from movin' around too much.

  Trap held up the keys to the two children. "Your mom's on her way. She's coming in through the air vent, just like she did when she managed to get your sister out. I can open your cells if you'd like and you can snuggle up in the soldier's coat to stay warm while you wait for her. Once you're warm you'll be able to move faster. But I don't want you to be afraid of me. If you'd rather, you can stay where you are until she gets here. You make the choice."

  He figured the children weren't given many choices. The two babies looked at one another again, clearly talking it out in some telepathic language only they spoke. Eventually the more outgoing one nodded her head.

  "What's your name?" Trap asked.

  "Cannelle." For the first time the child spoke aloud.

  "Thym." The other one added.

  Pepper, I'm opening the cells. I can't stand them being so cold. If they bite me, at least it saves me from having to go through the wall again to get to our other prisoner.

  Trap. Stop. If they bite you... Wyatt broke off.

  Sorry, man, they're just too little to leave all alone in the cold. I already feel like a monster for killing the soldiers in front of them.

  Chapter 16

  Wyatt rubbed his hands together, generating heat. His palms grew hot and began to glow. He knelt down, cocking his head to one side, listening to the sounds emitting below him, coming from the laboratory. In spite of the "soundproofing," his acute hearing and cat sonar picked up more movement than there should have been. He knew the soldiers assigned to the lab had a recreation area right next to their workstation, but the rustles were in the lab below him, where the techs worked, not where they slept or relaxed.

  He sighed. Nothing was ever easy and few missions ever came off without a hitch. For the sake of his family and his children, he needed to get into the laboratory, soldiers or no soldiers. He had known all along why Pepper and the children had been put in his path. He was too intelligent not to know, but that didn't mean he'd back down. He just had to be faster and outwit Whitney at his own game.

  The soldiers in the third-story laboratory were lying in wait for anyone who would come to rescue the two children. Trap had run into two soldiers in the holding cells. Without a doubt, Whitney had used the babies as bait for Wyatt.

  Wyatt listened carefully, noting every position. The soldiers had grown restless, and who could blame them? It was difficult to stay on high alert for days. The civilian guards had dismissed the danger all too readily - other than Larry and Jim, who had maintained their job as best they could by themselves.

  The men in the laboratory had to be trained soldiers from Whitney's personal army. He'd smuggled them inside and kept them on alert waiting for Wyatt to make his move. Whitney clearly had expected him to wait for reinforcements or to secure his grandmother's home before coming after the two children.

  Wyatt was hot-tempered and sometimes impulsive - such as when he'd joined the GhostWalker program after losing Joy. Whitney underestimated him, plain and simple. And he'd underestimated the loyalty of his team members as well.

  Wyatt chose a corner where there was no sound at all. There had to be storage closets, and according to the original blueprints, one was built into that corner. Whether or not it had been changed was anyone's guess, but it was his best bet for point of entry.

  I'm goin' in first, Draden. Stay back until I call you in. We've got company.

  He felt Pepper's gasp. Soldiers? How many? You can't go in alone. Wyatt, please, no.

  She'd never said "please" to him. She'd never sounded so anxious over him.

  This is what I do, babe. Get our girls out of there.

  Wyatt laid his palms on the concrete, pressing hard. At the same time, he uttered a low hum, a sound that couldn't be heard by humans. He waited while the energy built around him. The pressure built until he wanted to scream. His head felt as if it might explode. He slammed his palms down again, pushing the pulse through the cem
ent. As a large chunk disintegrated, he "felt" for the large chunks of debris and stilled them in midair, even as he muffled the sound.

  It took a great deal of concentration to accomplish all three tasks nearly simultaneously and his brain actually hurt. He breathed away the pain and slowly floated the debris to the floor. He kept track of the movement of the soldiers in the laboratory. He'd counted five of them scattered around the room. Each moved differently, some more restless than others, but all of them shifted positions often.

  No one came to investigate the hole in the roof. He peered down. Below him, he saw several brooms and a mop bucket on wheels. He'd caught a break - the original blueprints hadn't been altered there on the third floor. He dropped down fast, landing lightly on the balls of his feet, as silent as a stalking cat.

  Light spilled under the crack of the door. The laboratory was lit up, but the windows had been blacked out so from the outside, the room appeared dark, as if no one was in it. Wyatt knew better. He stayed very still, his cat sonar stretching to find every source of light in the room and mark where the soldiers were waiting.

  There were five of them, but they had no idea he was inside the building, or that his team was making their attempt to rescue the children. To the soldiers it was like every other day they'd stayed in the laboratory, under orders to wait for an attack, and that meant they were bored, tired and not paying much attention.

  Even now he heard the constant rustling as they shifted position and occasionally whispered to one another. They had no idea the civilian guards had left their posts to attend a birthday party or that down below, in the cells, two of their small army were already dead.

  He went over every detail in his mind, planning out every move until his body knew what it was supposed to do. Wyatt exploded out of the closet, moving with blurring speed, going for each of the overhead lights, running up the walls to smash the bulbs, landing on a table and springing to the next light.

  He knew the precise location of each heat source and he went after each of the lights first until the room was plunged into darkness. With the windows blacked out, he could see clearly with his cat's vision, but the soldiers would have a much more difficult time, especially those first few seconds. He utilized those precious seconds while the bored and stiff soldiers were shocked and confused. He hit the first one directly in the face, coming off a table with both boots, smashing hard.

  He heard the terrible crunch of bones breaking and the man went down. Wyatt kept moving, landing on the floor and springing toward the location of the next nearest soldier. He ran up the wall and launched himself, dropping behind the man who had crouched down and was coherent enough to bring up his rifle. He couldn't fire because he couldn't see, but he was ready.

  Wyatt felt energy wash over him and knew immediately this soldier was enhanced. Just as he caught the soldier's head, the man jerked away from him, throwing himself forward and rolling, bringing up the gun. He let loose a short burst just as Wyatt sprang into the air above the man. The bullets streaked toward the wall where he'd been, leaving behind flashes from the muzzle.

  Wyatt landed on the table above the soldier's head. He crouched low and waited while the man rolled to his left.

  "Put on your gas masks. Put on your gas masks," someone shouted.

  He heard the hiss of a gas canister. Immediately he attacked, dropping flat to slam his knife in the chest of the enhanced soldier. He rolled away off the table, landing lightly on the other side.

  The other three soldiers were a distance away. The nearest one was in the very center of the room. He could see the man pulling on his mask. He moved with blurring speed, reaching the soldier even before he could fit the mask to his face. Catching the head in both hands, he whirled around, snapping the man's neck over his left shoulder and dropping the body all in one motion.

  The fourth soldier, the one who had given the orders, was also enhanced. Wyatt felt the dark, dense energy pouring over him. He'd been lucky to discover one of the enhanced men immediately. This one was ready for him. It was even possible he could see as well in the dark as Wyatt could.

  Wyatt used his speed to go up the walls and run along them back toward the last soldier guarding the other side of the room. His energy was every bit as potent as their leader's had been. Whitney had sent three enhanced soldiers along with two normal ones.

  The soldier met him halfway, knife in hand, streaking every bit as fast as Wyatt across the room. Wyatt caught his wrist at the last moment, deflecting the blade away from his belly. He continued his forward momentum, holding on to the wrist as he did so, driving the man's arm back toward his own left shoulder. The soldier's feet went out from under him as his body flipped over backward.

  He landed hard on his back, driving the air from his lungs, but as Wyatt slammed the wrist down to take the knife, the soldier rolled and took out Wyatt's leg, breaking his own wrist in the process. He didn't so much as grunt in pain. Rather he stood up and tore off his mask, his eyes blazing at Wyatt.

  Wyatt shook his head. Clearly he'd picked the wrong soldier, thinking the other would be the most difficult. This soldier was more robot than human. The thought registered as his opponent turned his weapon on him. Wyatt dove forward, under the gun, coming up hard between the soldier's legs, hitting him in the crotch with his head so hard he actually launched the man into the air. This time the grunt was very satisfactory. There were some body parts that were still human for certain.

  As the soldier came down hard onto one of the tables, splintering it, sending bottles and computers flying in all directions, the glass shattering as it hit the floor, Wyatt snagged the gas mask and put it on. Only seconds had gone by, but he could feel the first effects.

  The soldier rolled, trying to orient himself, trying to get away from Wyatt as he did so. Wyatt shot him twice, a one-two tap to the head. The soldier grunted again.

  "What the hell are you?" Wyatt asked aloud, projecting his voice away from his position.

  The leader shot toward the sound of Wyatt's voice, firing rapidly in a long sweeping spray.

  So much for a quiet entry and exit, bayou man, Draden said. What happened to Zen and the knife?

  Wyatt returned fire, hitting the leader squarely between the eyes. That should have been five down, but I've got one who seems to be the walkin' dead. I can' kill the son of a bitch. Bullets don' seem to faze him.

  We've got to get moving, Draden said. Stop playing down there. With all the noise you're making, the neighbors will be showing up as well, although if we're lucky the soundproofing will hold. Need a hand?

  You'll need a gas mask. They dumped somethin' foul in here.

  I'm coming in, don't shoot me. Take care of your little zombie pal while I search this place for the files we need.

  I left you a nice big door, Wyatt said.

  The soldier he'd tapped in the head suddenly exploded into action, coming off the floor like a jumping spider, arms and legs out as he hurled himself at Wyatt. Wyatt shot him twice more, this time in the chest, aiming for the heart. Wyatt rarely missed. All he heard was two more grunts, as if the soldier felt the bullets, but dismissed them.

  The man landed on him, driving him to the floor, his blade slipping into Wyatt's skin, pushing through tissue and muscle, so sharp at first, Wyatt didn't even know the knife was in him. The breath hissed out of him.

  "I've had it with you," he snapped and rammed his thumbs into the man's eye sockets.

  At once he felt the exoskeleton, a hard shell beneath the skin and eyes of the man's head. Surely Whitney wasn't producing cyborgs? That was far too science fiction for Wyatt. It was bad enough the mad doctor had turned three little babies into vipers, now he had to contend with a crazy, and very angry robot.

  The soldier howled, and twisted the knife. Wyatt caught his wrist and plunged his own knife into the man's leg, cutting the artery. At least he was certain he'd done so. The head and at least part of the chest were covered with what appeared to be thickened bone, almost like
armor, but the blade of his knife had gone into human flesh.

  Wyatt kicked the man's gun away from him and dragged himself a relatively safe distance away. His hands shook as he tried to get to his field kit. It took a moment to calm his mind, to allow his healing energy to pour into his own body and cut off the steady flow of blood.

  Wyatt! Mon Dieu, Wyatt! How bad are you hurt? Do you need help? I'm close to the children, but I can get to you in a few minutes if I have to.

  The sheer fear and concern pouring into him lightened his mood considerably. The knife wound had gone from numb to blazingly painful fast. And the miserable refusing-to-die-no-matter-what cyborg-man was making hideous noises and thrashing around.

  I swear I'm in the twilight zone, he said to his team.

  Privately he responded to Pepper. Honey, I'm just fine. Sittin' here on the floor makin' Draden do all the work for me.

  He included Trap in his next response. Get to the children before Trap plays the hero and opens the cells. The babies will bite him just because he's so mean lookin'.

  I can feel your pain, Pepper said. You're really hurt and you're lying to me.

  He couldn't help grinning a little at the edge to her voice. He did love sassy women. Now, babe, don' go gettin' all feminine on me. You're just worried about my good looks. I'm still as purdy as I ever was.

  How big is the hole in you? she demanded.

  Pepper felt sick with his pain. She could taste blood in her mouth and her side throbbed and burned. If he didn't do something about the pain, she might not be able to make it through the vent to the children.

  As it was, her body was squeezed so tight in the air duct that she literally was pushing with fingers and toes and wiggling her shoulders and hips to propel herself forward, just as a snake would have to do. Feeling sick to her stomach definitely wasn't helping. Wyatt getting stabbed made her feel not only sick physically, but every single cell in her body demanded she turn around and get to him.

  The thought of Wyatt actually dying was more than she could bear. Wyatt, you can't joke about this. I need to know exactly how bad it is.

  His touch inside her was warm and soothing, like the stroke of his fingertips down her skin. She shivered and pushed forward another few inches.