“Are you going to kill me?” The guy whined.
“I don’t know yet, that’s going to depend on you. What’s your name?”
“Kyle. Dr. Kyle Lawson.”
“Okay, Dr. Lab-Dick, let’s see how well you cooperate. However, due to your betrayal of the entire human race, you don’t really deserve to live.” No matter how pissed she felt, Bree wasn’t a murderer. But he didn’t need to know that.
More whining. “They forced me to do this. I didn’t want to, but Kozeb threatened my family.”
Bree swung one of the pipes and landed a blow to his forearm. “That’s for lying to me.”
“I swear, I’m telling you the truth.” He spoke between short breaths, obviously in pain. He wrapped his good hand over his injured arm. Sweat beaded on his partially bald pate.
“I don’t think so. I heard every word you said to Kozeb when you came in to check on me.” Bree raised the pipe in threat. “Do you want to change your story now, Dr. Lab-Dick? And for fuck’s sake, quit whining or I’ll bring this pipe down on your tiny little nut sack.”
Threatening the precious jewels always motivated men, including this dipshidiot. His hands shook as they flew over the keyboard. Bree watched him to be sure he didn’t send any messages to Kozeb. Another thirty seconds, then he took the jump drive out and handed it to Bree who pocketed it in the lab coat.
“Okay. Now, you’re going to help me destroy this lab.”
“No way! I built this lab. You can’t do that.” He glared at her: a flash of defiance, anger, or both.
Bree set one pipe on the counter, freeing her right hand to punch him in the face. Blood spurted out his nose. Ha! That felt good. Bree bounced on the balls of her feet feeling energized.
“Damn it! Why’d you do that?” Dr. Lab-Dick cried, a nasal twang to his whine now. He wiped the dripping blood away with his shirt.
Bree, you need to tell me what is happening. We still cannot locate you.
I’m working the plan. Give me a fucking break.
“Where are we? Give me the address. And how many goons are here?” Bree snarled at Dr. Lab-Dick. She had to blink a few times to keep her eyes focused; a wave of pain and nausea nearly took her down. She dug her nails into her palm to keep from passing out.
A smirk appeared on the douchebag’s stupid face.
No fucking way! She’d had enough of this motherfucker. She brought a pipe down on his head with a loud crack. His head slumped forward and blood splattered her white coat.
Oh shit.
She hadn’t intended to hit him that hard, even though the asshole did kinda deserve it.
“Wake up!” She shook his shoulders but got no response.
Where ARE you? Zuhl sent forcefully.
Uh, I’m trying to find that out, but I ran into a small complication. She glanced down at her little complication, slumped in his chair, out cold. I think I’m gonna need another minute.
She grabbed Dr. Lab-Dick’s chin and gave him a little slap. “Wake up! Where are we?”
Crap… she needed him awake.
Bree looked around and saw a bottle of Coke on the desk. She grabbed it and splashed the contents on his face. He sputtered then opened his eyes a crack and moaned. He wiped at the Coke and blood mixture dripping down his face.
“Oh good. You’re awake. No more napping,” Bree said. “Where are we?”
“Near Flagstaff. You split my head open, you bitch!”
“You call me a bitch again and I’ll break your fucking jaw.”
The wave of pain and nausea ramped up again, causing Bree’s pulse to race. Sweat rolled down her body. Damn. She needed to get the hell out of there before she really did kill the bastard. Tracker blocked or not, she didn’t need his death on her conscience.
“An address, shitbag!” Bree snapped. Her grip on her rage - and possibly reality - was slipping away. She repeated her silent mantra.
Buck up. Keep your shit together. You can do this.
The little bastard reached for a notepad on his desk and shoved it at Bree. The pad had a logo and an address on the top that she sent through the mental link to Zuhl.
“How many goons?” Bree’s words slurred. Not good. She scrunched her eyes closed and opened them again. Breath ragged, she wiped sweat from her face with the sleeve of the lab coat.
“I don’t know. Just two I think.” Dr. Shitbag Lab-Dick didn’t look too good either - blood trickled from his broken nose and the cut on his head. He probably had a concussion. Of course, those things would heal. She had no idea if her brain would heal. She wouldn’t shed any tears for this pig any time soon.
“Where’s the brain zapper?” Her throat had gone so dry it hurt. A pang of regret fluttered in her gut, that she’d emptied the bottle of Coke on his face. She desperately needed something cold to drink.
The guy grabbed tissues from the desk and wiped his face before holding the wad to the cut on his head with his uninjured arm. He grimaced as he pointed toward a computer with his injured arm.
“Good boy.” Bree stumbled in that direction. She raised a pipe over her head with both hands and swung hard at the zapper equipment. Or so she hoped. It was hard to tell, due to blurred double vision. From the sound and the reverberation that flowed back up her arms, she knew she’d hit something.
Bree swung again.
And again.
After several strikes, she squinted to clear her vision. The device was in pieces. Lots of pieces. With the adrenaline fading fast, her strength and stamina would fade too. She needed to destroy the rest of the lab and find Kozeb before she couldn’t move at all.
Thoughts of the people that Kozeb and Dr. Lab-Dick had hurt, including herself, flared her anger and produced another jolt of adrenaline to fuel her rampage through the lab. She smashed any equipment or computer she could find.
Dr. Lab-Dick slumped over on his desk and sobbed. She ignored his pleas for her to stop destroying his lab. She let loose all of her pent-up anger and hostility on his equipment. Pieces of plastic, metal, and glass flew everywhere. The sound of the metal pipe making contact with the equipment rung through the lab, worrying Bree that the commotion would draw the goons and Kozeb. But she couldn’t stop herself. She needed to be sure that nothing could be salvaged and used to hurt more people.
Plus, the release of rage felt so fucking good. She was having more fun than she’d had since the beginning of Instant. Smash. Fucking. Smash. Karma. Smash.
Bree laughed as she thought about what she must look like: sweat-soaked hair, cuts and scrapes, wearing nothing but a blood-spattered lab coat and swinging a pipe in a frenzied attack.
She took one last swing at a shelf of equipment, but missed. The energy drained from her body. A low guttural noise escaped her lips. She fell to her knees. Her vision tunneled, so she squeezed her eyes shut. Bree put one hand on the ground to stabilize herself, but it didn’t help. She toppled over.
Damn it! She still needed to get to Kozeb.
Blackness took over.
We have locked onto your location and are coming in, Zuhl’s mental voice came blaring into Bree’s head.
Whatever. Bree opened her eyes. She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious. She pulled herself to a sitting position. The lab looked like a tornado had ripped through. Dr. Lab-Dick moaned and shifted in his chair. The darkness crowded her vision, threatening to pull her under again. Bring my clothes and leave Kozeb to me.
Bree, you’re about to pass out. I’m attempting to stimulate your system.
An electrical pulse zinged through Bree’s spine. Her vision brightened and cleared up. She grabbed onto the table in front of her and pulled herself up. Every muscle in her body quivered, but with one pipe still in hand she staggered over to the scientist.
“Things are about to go very bad out there. So, unless you want me to kick your ass some more, I suggest you sit right there until I say you can get up.” Her voice raspy. Her mouth and throat so dry; each word, a chore.
With
the help of the countertop to lean on, Bree staggered to a sink against the far wall and splashed water on her face. The water swirling in the sink turned red. She continued until the water ran clear, then put her mouth under the stream and gulped the delightfully cold water until she’d had her fill.
Whatever Zuhl had done, it seemed to be working. She was still a long way from good, but at least she no longer teetered on the brink of passing out.
Maybe Captain Intrusive was on her side after all.
22
Bree unlocked the lab door and poked her head out. She didn’t see anyone in either direction, so she stepped into the long hallway that extended further to her right than her left. Faint whispers came from her left; her crew, she assumed, but her grip on the metal pipe tightened anyway.
We’re here in the building and on our way to you. Your tracker is back on line so don’t do anything to warrant Instant Karmic Justice.
Bree rolled her eyes at the news from Zuhl. Of course, the mental intruder couldn’t see the gesture. Or could she?
No, I cannot see you, but I can hear your thoughts.
Listen at your own risk. Fucker.
Footsteps rounded the corner to her left. Bree headed in that direction.
“Holy shit! Are you ok?” Max pushed forward, past the Kusharians and the goons. He did a quick sweep of her condition then put his hands on her face and lifted her eyelids with his thumbs to examine her eyes. Anger flashed in his eyes. He turned to Zuhl. “You better make this right,” he growled.
Ipeshe stepped forward with the pile of clothes, boots, and weapons that Bree had left at the spa before getting in the flotation tank.
“Let me examine you,” Ipeshe said.
Bree ignored the directive, tucked her pipe under one arm, and grabbed her stuff from the Kusharian medical consultant’s hands. “Thank the fucking baby Jesus.” She had her clothes and her beloved weapons. Weapons that she would never take off again.
“Bree! Maybe tone it down a bit?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? First of all, do I look like I’m in a fucking mood to give a flying rat’s ass about offending anyone? Second, do you actually think this group of alien asshats cares what I say about Jesus?” Bree turned and opened the nearest door. “Give me a minute.” She glared at Zuhl and Max. “Wait for me, or I’ll fuck you both up.”
With that, she flipped on the light and stepped into the room - correction, the storage closet. She put her belongings and the pipe down on a shelf. As the lab coat dropped to the ground, Bree got the first good look at her blood-streaked body. Bits and pieces of shrapnel poked out all over. Her stomach knotted at the thought of more ruined tats, but the sensation of fire ants nibbling and stinging her brain reminded her that she had more important things to worry about at the moment.
She picked a few remnants of her thoroughly satisfying rampage out of her skin. She found a stack of plush paper hand towels; the kind used in fancy restrooms. She grabbed some and tried to mop up the blood, but it was futile; she leaked from too many cuts.
Screw it. She didn’t have time to waste and she wasn’t going to kick Kozeb’s ass in nothing but a stupid lab coat. She pulled on her undies, then her perfectly-tattered jeans that would soon be perfectly blood-soaked.
Bree slid down to the floor and wiped some of the blood from her left foot, revealing two deep gashes on her heel. Deep enough to warrant stitches, but she didn’t have time for that now. She folded one of the paper towels and secured it to her heel with her sock before putting her boot on.
Her right foot had cuts too, but one of the deeper cuts looked partially healed. What the fuck? A chill ran down Bree’s spine. She shook off the odd feeling, pulled on her sock, and pushed her foot into the boot.
Fully dressed, Bree stood up to wrap her thigh rig around her right leg and holstered her gun. One knife went in the hidden slot in her boot and the other on her belt clip.
Ahhh. She let out a big sigh of relief, happy to have her weapons back. Bree opened the door and stepped back into the hallway. Gratitude tugged at the corner of her mouth. They’d waited for her.
“The lab’s a complete disaster. You do all that?” Max pointed his thumb back in the direction of the lab.
Bree grinned and said, “me and my little friend here.” She held up the metal table leg she held in her hand.
Max’s bottom lip jutted out and he gave a small nod of approval. And perhaps a bit of pride.
Bree pulled her shoulders back and stood taller. “Ok. Fill me in.” She rubbed her head with her free hand. Her brain still prickled with sparks of burning pain.
Ipeshe pointed to Bree’s head. “Let me help you with that.”
“We don’t have time to fuck around with my brain anymore.” Bree turned and arched her brows at Zuhl. “You gonna hold up the rest of our deal?”
Zuhl’s nostrils flared. “I believe we should discuss-”
“Don’t even think of backing out. Block my fucking tracker again. I gave you the address. I held up my end of the deal. You sure as shit better do the same.” Bree’s voice grew louder with each word and she pointed the pipe at the Commander as she spoke.
“Take it easy.” Max put his hand on the pipe and pushed it down.
Bree shot her uncle a wicked scowl. When had he become a Kusharian-loving prick?
“Kozeb is mine. Where is he?” Bree glared at Zuhl.
“We’ve detected him two floors up.”
“Ok. Let’s do this.” Bree walked in the direction the group had come from, hoping to find an elevator or set of stairs.
“Hold up, Bree. Let’s make a plan.” Max reached out to grab Bree’s arm as she passed, but she ducked left and evaded his grasp.
“The plan is that I’m going to kick little bastard alien’s ass until he talks.” Bree nodded. “Yep, that’s the plan. If you want to watch, then come on. Otherwise, fuck off.”
“We need to neutralize the Guards in the room with him.”
Who said that? Bree stopped and looked back at the group, her faced pinched in question.
“We will transport in and neutralize the Guards so they cannot transport you away.” One of the goons spoke with a deep voice that vibrated in an odd way.
Bree cocked her head and raised her brows. “Huh, I didn’t know the goons could talk.”
“Of course we can talk,” the other goon said in a similar resonant voice.
Okay, good to know, but Bree liked it better when they didn’t talk. She preferred thinking of them as faceless, nameless hunks of junk, not living breathing beings.
“Are there any goons in the room with him?” She directed her question to the crowd, hoping someone other than a goon would reply.
“Yes, there are two,” Zuhl answered.
Shit. She could handle Kozeb, but not two goons and Kozeb. Eyes closed, she took in a very slow deep breath, then forced it out through pursed lips. “Fine. Goons can take the goons. I get Kozeb.” She opened her eyes.
Max and Zuhl exchanged a look.
Damn it. She didn’t have time to figure out what the hell that look meant or why her uncle was so chummy with the Intrusive One. Fuck ‘em both. Bree spun on her heel to search for a way up to her target.
Whoa. The hallway tilted.
Her left hand shot out to the wall. Bree managed to stay on her feet.
Hoping nobody noticed her struggle, she kept her hand on the wall for support and took a few steps. She didn’t dare look back. Partly to avoid the dizzying effects. Partly to avoid the worried looks she’d find. “Elevator or stairs?”
“There’s a stairwell up ahead on the right. Stairs will be quieter,” Max answered.
Bree nodded and continued down the hall. She knew that, but part of her had hoped they could take the elevator. As shaky and dizzy as she felt, stairs would be a bitch. The pain in her head ramped up another notch. She felt like total shit, but her desire to kick Kozeb’s ass spurred her on.
You really need some treatment. Will you all
ow Ipeshe to help you after we have Kozeb in custody? Zuhl’s mental voice had softened, compassion in her tone. We must still address what happened in the floatation tank and our mind sync.
First things first.
Bree pulled the heavy metal door open. She looked at the stairs in front of her and nearly turned around, half of her wishing for one of the goons to transport her up to the next floor; she’d used all of her energy to escape and destroy the lab. The rest of her screamed that it would be a cold day in hell before she asked one of the human-snagging wankers for a ride.
She had to find the strength to make it up two flights of stairs without passing out. She had to keep going. She had to protect Jason and the others who would get hurt by the fucking zappers. She had to be sure that Kozeb would pay for his crimes against humanity, not to mention the crimes against herself. The motherfucker!
That did it. Adrenaline flooded her body and fueled her muscles.
She opened her eyes and took the first step. One foot in front of the other. She didn’t look back, but she knew the others followed by the sound of their footsteps sneaking up the stairs.
Max moved up beside Bree on the wide staircase. She slid an angry look his way and hoped that taking her eyes off the steps wouldn’t cause a misstep. “What?” She hissed at him.
“There is nothing wrong with admitting that you need a break. You’ve been through a lot, kiddo. You are stronger than most of the people I know. Including SEALs. Please, let someone help you,” Max whispered.
Bree flinched at his compliment. Her uncle wasn’t one to throw out empty praise or voice endearments very often. He was concerned. She could feel it, but she didn’t have time for warm fuzzies. “I’m a grown woman, Max.” Bree whispered in return. She needed to stay strong or she’d collapse from exhaustion and pain.
Max nodded, understanding.
Maybe she should throw him a bone.
Bree rolled her shoulders forward with a small sigh. She stopped on the landing and looked at her uncle. “I’ll let Ipeshe get in my head after we’re finished here.” Her eyebrows winged up and she waited for his response.
Mind Sync Page 17