Fight Fire With Fire.

by Amy J. Fetzer

  Bridget nodded, waved to the weapons and darkness. “It’s not my element, you know.”

  Safia heard the trickle of fear in her voice and understood. It wasn’t exactly hers either. “I’ll get you back to Travis, I swear it. Stick close to me and follow my orders.” She reminded her not to trust the children.

  Bridget nodded and Safia pulled down the night vision and stepped out the door.

  “Be advised,” she heard Max say. “Guards are subdued, and ten minutes till charges set on the dish. When it blows, so will our cover.”

  She glanced at Bridget. “Dragon Three, we’re coming to you.” Safia headed out, weapon trained as she gave Riley’s big sister a lesson in search and destroy.

  Riley bolted, tucking behind a cottage. He didn’t see the porches or the décor inside, but locations for the canister. Their chemical sensors were useless in the rain, but the chemical wasn’t. Unblended RZ10 was no worse than Centex. Combined, it was catastrophic—and it did not dilute.

  With him, the team drew in and surrounded the cottage. He signaled and they pushed through the doors, laser lights from rifles marking the room. They cleared each, quick, methodic, then moved to the next. Inside he found bloody rags, a jumbled bed, and assumed Barasa was running scared right now.

  “Airport secure. Jet disabled,” Max said, sounding breathless. “Found Barasa’s pilot and crew imprisoned, negative threat. No canister.”

  “Copy that. Barasa’s out there somewhere.” He picked up a shirt he recognized then tossed it. The arms dealer was last on his to-do list. “Dragon Two headed northwest, the two story.”

  “Roger that. At the dish. Get ready for fireworks, sports fans.”

  Riley motioned and the team rushed across the manicured lawns, the cobblestone path slick with rain. The storm tide was already flooding some areas, then Ellie’s voice came through the comm-link in his left ear. “Base to Dragon Two. Be advised, fence is not armed. Possible thermals. Your Six.”

  Riley kept running, rain slickening their gear and making them too visible. At the dorms, he tucked to the wall and looked back, signaling for the team when he spotted figures moving in the trees. The lightning strike, he thought, but couldn’t investigate and moved to the windows of the dorm. First look, it was empty.

  “Dragon Two, thermal and movement, your three o’clock. Confirm?”

  Riley edged around the far side of the building, night vision visor up because of the lightning. He did not want to go blind out here, but risked a three-second look before the next flash of lightning. It showed him the thermal readings. A line of children marching toward the large house on the point. Like eye sockets in a skull, the house windows glared light in the storm and he wondered why the lightning strike hadn’t shorted out the generator. It was a party over there.

  “Roger that. Children.” Despite the storm tearing up the lawn, they moved in tempo and maintained the line. Robots, he thought as a tall man stepped onto the porch and ushered them inside. What the hell was this loon doing? Riley gave orders to check the dorm for occupants and in less than three minutes, the Marines reported.

  “Negative, no IP’s.” Indigenous personnel. “Looks like a kindergarten school. Creepy.” Considering the children were mostly between six and nine, he agreed.

  “Dragon Two, my six. Let’s check out the party.” Riley signaled, and his team worked around the playground, but he didn’t mistake the shapes in the shadows. Feral children on the loose. The team ran in bursts, using the trees and plantings for cover. He crossed in front of a waterfall spilling from the mouth of a stone cat.

  “I see a theme going on here,” a Marine said as Riley advanced alongside the building and looked inside. The Marines spread, two watching their backs. “A celebration, sir?”

  “Apparently.” The music was calypso, and the children were dancing, but it was his first close look at Thibaut. All Riley thought was pedophile. He was tall, lanky, yet it was his long bony hands and the way he touched the children that turned his stomach. He saw no way for this to end well, and when the children moved out of his way like the parting of the seas, Thibaut went to a large desk with a computer.

  Riley saw the table lined with Icarus phones. He narrowed the focus on his goggles and shifted for a better look. Vaghn’s laptop was open, and the screen showed the locations in blinking dots. Icarus is rising was printed across the screen. Oh, crap. Now he knew why Thibaut was celebrating. He was going to ignite them from here.

  “Drac, what’s your twenty?”

  “Behind the dish. Charges are hot.”

  “Target has phones like a party line. Raven, report, Raven!”

  “We’re opposite D-3’s position,” Safia said. “Package is with me. Vaghn is dead.”

  Riley ordered the teams toward the front of the house, beyond the glow of light.

  Deep Six

  Jansen watched the screen. The storm was on them, sea conditions rising to level three typhoon status. The window was shortening by the seconds.

  Beckham turned in his chair. “Raptors are in the air.”

  “What? By whose order?”

  “Gerardo.”

  Jansen turned to the phones, connecting with this boss. “Abort sir, they’re still on the island.”

  “The window is gone. It’s now or never. Get them off, Jansen, now.”

  Beckham turned to the console, contacting the teams. “Raptors locked and loaded. ETA four minutes. Bug out.”

  Hank watched the jet path. At Mach 3, the bombers would drop the load and be back in ten minutes. Whether Donovan and the teams were off the island or not.

  Twenty-two

  Max quickly packed the charges around the waist of the satellite dish, the rain hindering, but once he had them rigged, he pushed in the detonators and set the timer charge. He pocketed the deadman trigger, slung his rifle forward and signaled the team to move north. They were in the center of the island, the big house yards ahead. His senses went on alert and he suddenly spun, bringing his weapon to his shoulder.

  A moment later, he heard, “Raven to Drac, did you see that?”

  “Give it a wide berth, ladies, really wide.”

  Black and slim, the big cat strolled, not noticing them when the jungle was full of sounds and some god-awful smells. Max signaled the team to move away from the dish.

  “Thermal said it was people.”

  “Definitely not.” He followed the cat with the gun barrel, sighting for a kill. Beyond the cat, Safia and Bridget ran to the north near the house. The panther’s gate looked all wrong.

  Sam appeared at his right, the Marines in tight formation and flanking. “It’s an experiment, too docile.”

  “Look at its skin. It’s been cut up,” one Marine said. The hind end was missing squares of flesh, the healing process half done.

  “Let it pass,” Sam said. “It’s got a target.”

  The house. He warned D-2 and went to join the party.

  On one knee, Riley kept in the shadows, watching and waiting until Safia and Bridget rushed near. He broke form long enough to nearly crush his sister and kiss Safia before Max, Sam and the Marines moved in close. He looked at D-3, at Sam. “Bug out. Get my sister off this island, please.”

  “It’d be my honor, partner.” Sam urged Bridget. “Come on, darlin’, no time for square dancing.” Bridget grasped Riley’s hand briefly, then drew her gun and followed Sam into the jungle toward the shore. The Marines trailed.

  Riley looked at Safia. “You gave her a weapon?”

  She shrugged it off. “Lots of crazies out tonight.” She watched the house, swiping rainwater from her face and smearing camouflage paint. Thunder rumbled loud, but the PRR picked up a whisper. “No sign of the canister?”

  Riley nodded ahead. “I’m betting it’s in there, with him.”

  “But we’re not invited to that party.” She flashed a cheeky smile.

  “Then let’s crash it,” a Marine said from behind. “And blow this psych ward.�
��

  Riley signaled to widen the area. “Let’s see who comes out, huh?” He nodded.

  Max hit the detonator. The explosion was instant, fire wreathing the dish and shooting into the sky. The rain did nothing for the boil of smoke and flames, the rip of metal. The dish tilted, then hit the ground. They could feel the vibration from here.

  Safia glanced at Riley. “Knock knock.”

  Odette whirled in the chair. “Was that the storm?”

  Thibaut frowned at the windows and walked to the front door, then threw it open. Wind shot through the house, stirring papers and flowers, and making the children go still. A word and they followed him as he stepped out onto the porch. “We have company.”

  “Barasa wouldn’t dare.” Odette rushed to his side. Flames licked at the satellite dish in the distance. “Haeger, it’s all ruined.”

  “Not entirely,” he said, his casual air confusing her.

  “Get the canister, dear.” She scowled at him and he glared. “It’s why they’re here.” In a moment, she returned with it. When figures moved from the darkness into the glow of the house, something changed in him. Odette didn’t like it.

  He smiled, taking a step down, disregarding the rain and the weapons.

  Safia inched forward, Riley on her left.

  “Hello, Safia.”

  Every muscle in her body locked and she frowned, glancing at Riley. How did he know her name?

  “We were neighbors once.”

  “I don’t have neighbors.”

  “Cairo, after the bombing. You lived with me actually.”

  Safia paled, her weapon dropping a fraction. Riley barked at her and she brought her aim to her shoulder. “You’re a liar and an abomination.” She back stepped, using the shadows.

  “You have my mark on you.”

  Her skin crawled and she searched her memory, her childhood, after her family was killed. The neighbor wasn’t there, leaving her alone to mourn mostly. She’d gone back to the States a few weeks later, living on campus until classes started. She shook her head. He grabbed Odette’s arm and she protested with a little squeak, but Thibaut ignored it to twist her arm and show the mark on the back. It was far darker than hers, but clear. A circle with a short line in the center. Theta. “Have the Delta still?”

  Her gaze flicked to Riley’s and he knew as she did. The triangle.

  Safia kept aiming, a thing of nightmares standing in front of her.

  “The canister is ours.” He waved to Odette and she walked down the first two steps. Riley recognized the RZ10. Safia trained her weapon on Odette.

  “But the bombs are not.”

  Punctuating his words, the explosion ripped again, bright flames blossomed over the island. Riley arched a brow. “Now you can’t set them off.”

  “But I can, with your satellite.” He lifted the web phone. “Jump hardware. My personal favorite. It too is yours.”

  Riley immediately tapped his link to Deep Six. “Block the Hawkeye! Block the Hawkeye! Now! Now!” He aimed at Thibaut’s head, children in the path. “Don’t do it pal.”

  Deep Six

  “What’s he talking about?” Beckham said, the entire complex hopping with Intel. “Why is he still on the island? Christ.”

  David tapped keys. “Oh God. Icarus is rising. He sent it directly through the satellite, not the phone.”

  “Impossible. The dish is down.”

  “He used ours! He’s jumping off the Hawkeye.”

  “Stop it!”

  “Trying, sir. I can’t retask it with a keystroke.” He rerouted the controls, and grabbed the joystick, watching the screen and pushing the ten-ton satellite out of range.

  “David,” Beckham warned.

  “I can’t get up there and push it myself, sir.”

  Come on, you billion-dollar piece of hardware, move your butt.

  Riley aimed, but children crowded Thibaut, his face obstructed. Odette was at his side, smiling prettily and Riley thought she was the essence of ugliness, obedient as a dog, and just as guilty.

  “You can’t pull the trigger, can you?” The children draped him, the phone in his hand.

  “Coward.”

  “See how effective?” Thibaut went on without missing a beat. “They’re my products.”

  Riley stepped up. “Enough of this shite.” He drew his knife from behind his neck and threw, putting the blade in the only place he could. Thibaut’s throat. “Bug out, now!”

  Odette screamed for her mentor, then dropped the canister, lunging at Riley. But Safia got in the way, throwing her weight at the woman. Odette hit the ground, and rolled several feet, then jumped to a crouch. Riley went for the canister, but Thibaut broke it, letting the mix spread and melt. He lay on the steps, clutching the canister to his chest as his children crowded him like monkeys. One looked up, tears in her feline eyes, but when she opened her mouth, she had no tongue.

  Then Logan’s voice came over the wire. “Finn, get your ass off that island now. Raptors are on their way in. ETA two minutes to drop. Two minutes! Get in the water! They’ll level the island with you on it!”

  Riley ordered everyone to the water.

  Odette looked down at Thibaut, then to the teams. For a moment her features softened, young and innocent, as confused as a child. Then everything about her sharpened, and she launched at Safia. Riley fired, the bullet hitting Odette in the side. She tumbled backwards, then twisted and landed on her hands and knees. Safia blinked. For a second Odette was motionless, her silver gaze shooting to Thibaut, the children, then she turned and ran—on all fours.

  “Safia!” She rushed to Riley just as a bone-chilling cry howled above the storm.

  The team turned and aimed as the darkness erupted with mud soaked children. Naked and emaciated figures rushed across the manicured lawn in packs, wild creatures vaulting past them to Thibaut.

  The old man’s eyes widened as the largest landed on his chest, howled and ripped the canister from his grip and tossed it aside. The feral children struck, shredding clothing and flesh, dragging their rivals into the jungle as Riley and Safia bolted to the water, Thibaut’s terrified screams barely resonating over the wrath of the storm.

  Behind Bridget Sam yelled. “Keep going! In the water, in the water. We’re out of time. Base, where’s the ride?”

  “You should see it on the horizon.”

  They ran down the shore, but Bridget saw only boiling black seas. The Marines were already in the water, dropping gear and fighting the storm current.

  “We got to get wet,” he said and taking her arm, pulled her into the water. “Swim! The jets are two minutes away!”

  “But Riley—?”

  “He’ll get off, come on!”

  She dove and swam, the water white capping and she fought the waves battering them back. The water churned white and her eyes widened as a submarine broke the surface like a black whale.

  “Ohh-rah,” Sam shouted over the crack and bash of thunder. “Sometimes I love the Navy.” The sub surfaced, leveled, and she saw lights on the bridge, figures moving in the dark. “Stay with me Bridget,” he said and she swam, but it felt like a rip tide, drawing her back to shore and draining her strength.

  Sam grabbed her shirt, pulling her with him as men in dive gear crawled over the side of the sub’s bridge like rats escaping a flood. Four men tossed a bulk into the water and it instantly inflated. Men dropped into the rubber boat, the motor churning, and heading toward them. She looked back at the island and didn’t see Riley or Safia, then swam, praying with each stroke. Waves covered her head and she choked, then felt hands grab her shirt, pull her above the surface. Sam pushed her butt, then rolled into the boat as the waves rose and fell, nearly capsizing them. The rest of the team climbed in, the SEALs shouting questions at her, then the boat turned on a swell and headed to the sub. Bridget held onto the boat ropes, but couldn’t take her gaze off the shore, waiting for Safia and her brother to appear.

  Barasa remain
ed hidden but when the satellite dish exploded, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer. He hurried to the aircraft, hailing Rahjan but getting no response. He rushed to the jet, waving at the pilot. He was bruised and filthy, but wanted to get out of there as much as the rest of them. He approached the aircraft and slowed when he saw a little girl standing near the steps.

  “Go away.” He waved her off, giving her a little push. She didn’t move, tipping her head in the odd curious way he’d seen before.

  “I am yours.”

  “No you’re not. Get out of here.” He mounted the steps.

  The child followed and Barasa rushed to push her back.

  “No, go! I don’t want you. Go.” The girl was on the verge of tears. Gunshots peppered the night, the crush of rain wilting the child’s clothes and hair. He saw a figure closing in on his position. The jet engine didn’t start and he shouted at his crew.

  Barasa looked at the child waiting patiently, unaware of her surroundings except for the only duty Thibaut had assigned her. “You sad pitiful thing.”

  Harvested from the streets or cloned, they were experiments. Bad ones. Deny, and the animal instinct takes over. Not to survive, but to do as instructed like Pavlov’s dog to please the master. She had no mind of her own, no life to look forward to living. He mounted the steps, and when the child rushed after him, he lifted his weapon.

  He was doing her a favor, he told himself and pulled the trigger. The bullet impacted with her forehead, and the child fell, that fawning expression still on her face. He took the steps, shouting for the pilot to get them off the airstrip. He heard a sound, a growl, and glanced around, still mounting the steps. The storm raged, wind snapping at trees, rain stinging his face. Then he saw a human shape on the aircraft rudder, crouched on the fuselage. The noise came again. The figure prowled closer and suddenly leaped. Cale barely recognized Odette as she impacted with him, taking him down the stairs to the ground. The force knocked him breathless, his shoulder cracking, and she was on him, her nails scratching his face, tearing his skin, and he felt claws, saw the silver sheen in her eyes. My God, what did Thibaut do to this woman? He battered her back easily, but she was agile, leaping from spot to spot, making him twist and turn. She bolted, jumping over his head and landing like the mixed breed experiment she was. Then she ran, hit his back, knocking him to the ground. His head hit, pain rigging his brains. She straddled him, her knee on his throat. His eyesight blurred, his breathing labored, then she howled, a long tearing cry before she swiped her claws across his face. Pain seared. She struck again and again, tearing his flesh. Then she raised her hand, fingers arched.