The Plague Forge [ARC] (23 page)

“Stay close,” he muttered, picking up his own rifle.

As the last of the subhuman “guards” trickled out of the entrance below their position, Skyler hoisted himself over the rim of the artificial crater and jogged down the steep side in a barely controlled fall. Each step produced a small avalanche of sand and pebbles. Ten meters below he hit the narrow road that spiraled along the mine’s walls. He tucked and rolled, came up running, and went over the edge again. This process repeated six times before he cleared the last bit of road. At the bottom of the next piece of sloped wall was the Builder facility, ten meters away now. He’d been angling toward the nearest corner entrance on the way down, but it was still a good twenty meters off to the right.

The small avalanches created by his and Ana’s descent reached the building first. Rocks and pebbles clattered harmlessly against the side. The sand just pooled, adding a millimeter to an accumulation that Skyler assumed would be many meters deep by now, if this place had truly been here since SUBS began. He tried to slow himself before hitting the wall, with only a little success. In the end he did the only thing he could: turn his shoulder and wince. He smacked into the side of the building and felt a tingle rush up and down his arm from the elbow.

Ana came to a stop with much more grace, using an outstretched hand to blunt her impact and then twirling so her back hit next, leaving her in a tactically sound position, rifle raised. He felt a mixture of pride and, oddly enough, competition, whenever she did something better than him.

She jerked her head at the elbow he was frantically rubbing the numbness from. He waved off her concern and turned toward the opening. A dirty yellow light spilled out from somewhere inside. He saw no movement but thought he could hear some coming from within.

A few subhumans lay just outside. Dead, or maybe just too weak to move. That worried him until he recalled Ana’s observation about the lack of food or water here. They’d come here, called by this place perhaps, or simply drawn to it by some migratory instinct. Smart enough to get here, too far gone to survive. And the building, he thought, didn’t care. The Builders didn’t care.

He could feel the heat pulsing off the alien structure, as if it had a heart within. A ripple of fresh fear cascaded down his spine. The rhythm of that pulse reminded him of the chanting subhumans he’d found in the rainforest near Belém. That unsettled him somehow more than the swarm of creatures in the pit with them. Despite the anxiety that now gripped his own heart like a fist, he felt his feet moving toward the opening. He went slow, gun aimed directly ahead. With every step he glanced back at Ana to convince himself she was still with him, still okay. She was, of course. Her face had become the very picture of a warrior. Serious, focused, and deadly. He hoped she couldn’t see the fear in his eyes. If she looked she might have, but her gaze was like a searchlight now, sweeping in rapid bursts—behind, above, in front, behind—with her gun matching in perfect synchronicity.

A dancer’s perfection.

In his mind’s eye he saw her as he first had, twirling in a white dress. He saw the fabric flare out, her bare feet on the courtyard tiles, and his anxiety melted away.

At the corner Skyler paused and took a deep breath. This time when he looked back Ana’s eyes did meet his. There were beads of sweat on her brow. She gave him a single, confident nod that served to remind him of the urgency. The diversion they’d created was like a countdown timer, ticking rapidly away to zero, and if it got that far and they weren’t far away from here with the prize they’d come for … he didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to complete the mission and leave.

So he turned the corner, raised his rifle, and went inside.

Chapter Fourteen

Darwin, Australia

30.MAR.2285

The storm front fell upon Darwin like a blanket thrown over a corpse.

Wind began to whip little daggers of water through the streets of the Maze, clearing what little foot traffic would be found at such an hour.

The fire at Selby Systems had grown significantly, engulfing the surrounding structures now. Sam couldn’t be sure how much damage had been done. All she could see when she glanced back was an orange glow reflecting off the purple bruise of rain cloud that roiled above the city.

She’d been through plenty of bad storms during her time in Darwin. Even two typhoons. This one, she thought, would rank near the top.

Perfect
.

Occasionally she heard shouts behind her, echoing off the broken buildings and shuttered window frames. Jacobites, fanning out into the labyrinth. Had they found Skadz? Prumble? Impossible to know. She ran and ran, fighting the wind with every step, squinting when the blown rain lashed at her face.

The narrow alleys all looked the same. Gray concrete, armored doors, broken windows all boarded and barred. Exposed pipes and bundles of electrical wire snaked everywhere. Some of the cables, the few that still carried a current, sizzled under the barrage of droplets.

Three minutes away from the inferno and she was utterly and completely lost. The space elevator provided her only beacon for navigation. A single lonely climber was visible just below the cloud layer, like a lantern on the peak of some great mist-shrouded mountain. The vehicle hadn’t quite beaten the storm, and she could only imagine the turbulence it would face as it climbed up through those angry clouds. In years past, before all the upheaval, the cord would have been cleared well before a storm like this hit. A more experienced staff in Nightcliff would have known better.

Her foot caught on a loose bit of concrete and she went down, landing hard on her shoulder. The impact sent a jolt of pain that seemed to rocket straight to her brain. For a moment she lay there in the street, blinking away the flurry of water that sprayed into her eyes.

“Get up, Sam,” a voice said. It took her a second to realize it was her own.

She stood and walked on shaky legs to a small alcove. In any other storm it would have meant a welcome respite from the rain, but when the wind hissed through narrow streets like this there seemed to be no escape. Still, it was dark. Very dark. She leaned against a wet wall and rubbed her shoulder. A burst of lightning produced flickers of white-blue light across the city. Shadows danced and parried up and down the alley. Movement above caught her eye. A candle in a window, high above, grew and faded. There were others, too. Pulsing yellow squares like ships on a dark and turbulent ocean.

Footsteps caught her attention. Someone was jogging down the alley.

Sam took a chance and glanced out of the alcove. A distant flicker of lightning gave her a glimpse of a thin, lone Jacobite heading her direction. She waited. Timing was everything. She waited as long as she thought she could and then stuck out her leg.

The thug jumped it, deftly.

Shit,
she thought, and went at him with a fist. In the heat of the moment she’d forgotten about her throbbing right shoulder. The punch produced a stab of pain and forced her to ease off, leaving the thrown fist with no weight behind it.

It wouldn’t have mattered. The Jacobite—a woman, Sam now thought based on the curves glimpsed in another flash of lightning—dodged easily. She ducked and kicked out, her foot a smear of gray motion.

Sam leapt upward, the attack scraping her shin. At that instant the lightning hit a lull and the alley went almost pitch-black. Sam landed on something soft and her assailant yelped in pain. The limb—arm or leg, Sam had no idea—yanked out from under Sam’s foot. She reached for it, caught it, and twisted. Another cry followed by a vicious chop that took Samantha on the back of her neck.

The sting of it produced swimming stars in Sam’s vision. Somehow she’d managed to hold on to the Jacobite’s limb—an arm, she knew now. Sam turned and ducked, putting her enemy directly behind her. She gripped the woman’s forearm with both hands and pulled, while at the same time thrusting herself upright.

Her attacker flipped over Sam’s shoulder.
Lithe and light, easy to flight
. Skadz had said that once when she’d thrown a scrawny subhuman the same way. In that instance Sam had let go, tossing the scowling sub over the side of a building. Here, now, she held on with both hands, pulling downward as the woman came back toward the ground. There was a double smack sound as her feet hit the wall of the alcove, then a whoosh of breath being forced from her lungs as her torso slammed into the ground.

Sam wasted no time. She knelt, held on with her right hand, and rained blows with her left. Four punches to the face were all it took to convert the thrashing, terrified opponent into a lifeless mass.

“Nice to fucking meet you, too,” Sam muttered as she searched the body. The white Jacobite robes were soaked through and clung to the skinny woman. In the dark Sam found it frustrating to try to move the ridiculous garment aside to look for pockets beneath. She gave up, patted the body instead, found nothing.

Ten minutes later Sam ran straight into a dead-end alley. Wind whistled along the buildings that lined the narrow lane until the last little boxed-in corner, where it then vaulted upward in a swirling vortex of debris.

She cursed the blocked path and turned back, only to spy two Jacobites entering the alley. They were just shadows in the dark city street, and she knew she would be, too, so she flattened herself against a wall between two thick pipes and hoped they hadn’t seen her.

When they were two meters from her position she coiled. There’d been no time, nor anywhere near enough light, to assess them for size or weapons. So she’d take the closest one first, perhaps shove him into the other and send them both sprawling. If only the crumbling brick wall across from her had an alcove of its own, with Kelly tucked within. She’d worked so well with the nimble woman on Gateway during that week of constant cat-and-mouse. It had never been Sam’s style before then, until Kelly had shown her just how effective it could be.

“I wonder where you are now,” Sam whispered. “I wonder … shit.” She hadn’t wondered one critical thing until this moment, as the two patrollers drew near.
What will happen to Kelly once Grillo hears of my actions tonight? Does he still believe she’s important to me? Is he still skeptical of her loyalty?

Sam cursed herself for having considered none of this before the evening’s events. She should have found some way to send her friend a warning. Be ready to run, or something like that. Anything. Instead she’d warned Vaughn, and only marginally, so she could get him in bed again.

The crack of two gunshots cascaded down the alley. Prumble, or Skadz? Likely. She hoped they were the ones doing the shooting. The two Jacobites halted at the noise. Sam half-expected to hear their bodies topple to the asphalt, but sounds were weird in the Maze, their distance all but impossible to estimate. A street vendor’s call could seem a block away only to be a kilometer distant, channeled through the alleys in just the right combination. Neither of the Jacobites fell. Instead they both turned and ran, shouting cries of alarm and rally. They probably had as much idea as she did where the shots originated, but all that mattered was that they’d left. Sam ducked out of the dead-end alley and moved on, thankful she didn’t have to leave any more bodies in her wake.

When the high fortress wall of Nightcliff finally came into view, she felt better. Tired, hungry, dead thirsty, and aching from half a dozen places, but still better. She knew where she was, and the café wasn’t far. On top of that, the storm had passed, leaving in its wake ten million balconies and windowsills dripping water onto the surfaces below. That sound would go on for a long time, she knew, but at least the wind had died.

When Clarke’s finally came into view, the lights were off. This didn’t surprise her, given the predawn hour. Sam took one last glance behind herself, saw no one, and strode forward into the small square in front of the storefront.

“Wouldn’t do that,” a voice said. Just a whisper. Prumble.

She turned, couldn’t see anyone, and stepped back into the shadows anyway. “Where—”

“Here.”

A movement in a nearby doorway. Sam jogged across the street and slipped into the dark space. “Are you okay?” she asked. She couldn’t see him but felt the girth of his belly press against her own in the tiny alcove.

“They’re inside, waiting.”

The words alone were bad enough, but when their full meaning hit her Sam felt a cold despair, like a dead bolt clicking into place. Not only were the Jacobites one step ahead, they knew where to fucking go. She thought they’d been careful. Perhaps they had and someone talked. She shuddered at that idea and buried it deep. “How do you know?”

He jerked his chin upward. “Second-story window on the left.”

Sam looked. It was hard to see in the darkness, but on a small sill that extended out from below the window was a white bucket. This was not unusual in Darwin, where it rained almost constantly for half the year and external sources of water had all failed. Sam glanced farther up the side of the building, and nearly every window and balcony had similar containers out now that the winds had died out.

“Renuka’s signal to me that the café is not safe,” Prumble explained.

“Where’s Skadz?”

The big man shrugged. “Aboard still, I hope. If he’s in there we have a big problem.”

“Another big problem, you mean.”

“Quite. Problems seem to be breeding like rabbits this evening, don’t they?” His last word ended strangely, as if he’d just stepped on a thorn.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Bit of a scratch. Took a knife to the gut. Relax, it’s not deep and I have ample padding.”

She slipped a hand into his coat and prodded until her fingers found a wet, sticky spot. He grunted when she put pressure there.

“We need to stitch you up.”

“That’s the least of your worries. Soon the sun will rise, and I don’t exactly blend in, Sam.”

“Nor do I. We need to get off the streets.”

“Not without Skadz,” he said.