United as One
Page 85

“Hold your fire!” yells Agent Walker. “Goddamn it, they’re ours!”
Agent Walker stands with an assault rifle at the ready, her face smeared with ash, a nasty-looking blaster burn on one of her legs. In front of her, one of them still aiming a pistol in our direction, are the twins, Caleb and Christian. It was the dead-eyed one, Christian, who took a shot at us. Caleb punches him in the arm to get him to finally lower his gun.
“Sorry,” Caleb says, nodding towards Sam’s blaster. “We saw the blaster coming around the corner and . . .”
“Don’t sweat it,” Sam says. “I’ve been getting shot at for a long time.”
“Good God, if you’re here, how are we losing?”
That comment, directed at me, comes from General Lawson. He’s sandwiched between Walker and the twins, like they’re his bodyguards. The whole unflappable-grandfather act is out the window. Lawson looks like crap. His uniform is torn and bloodstained, he’s got an open gash over his eyebrow and he looks about ten years older than I remember.
“They got the drop on me,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m out of the fight for now.”
“They got the drop on all of us,” Walker says with a glare in Lawson’s direction. She walks over to my side and helps Sam support my weight. “You . . . you’re going to heal, right?”
“Mostly,” I reply. The punctures are only now beginning to close up, oily black residue leaking out of them.
“Is there anywhere safe?” Sam asks.
“We tried to break through their ranks at the garage,” Lawson says, his expression darkening. “Took heavy losses while they kept bringing in reinforcements. They’ve got a teleporter.”
“Not anymore,” Sam says.
“Did you know about that?” Lawson asks, looking at me. “That they have Legacies?”
“Those aren’t Legacies. They’re sick copies. Augmentations,” I say. “But no, they’re a new thing.”
“They stole that from you,” Lawson says, putting two and two together. “That’s what you were talking about at the meeting the other day.”
“We should keep moving,” Walker puts in.
Lawson shakes his head, still looking at me. “I was not fully informed just how fubared we are.”
“We were doubling back towards the elevators,” Walker says, taking over. “We hoped there would be less resistance.”
“Might be,” I say. “Five just took out a squadron that came down with me. Not sure how many more, but . . .”
We all hear it at the same time. Heavy footfalls bounding down a hallway. Too close.
“There’s a big one,” I tell them. “It’s hunting. It’s—”
“Tearing people apart,” Lawson says. “We saw the bodies.”
Sam glances at Christian. “It probably heard your shot.”
“We need to go,” Walker says. “Now.”
We push on, hustling through one hallway, then zagging down another. The Piken-Mog has our scent, though. I can hear it behind us, getting closer, wailing excitedly.
I realize that I’m the one slowing us down. I glance over my shoulder and see its mammoth shadow moving down the hallway we just left.
“Go,” I tell the others. “Get to the elevator. I’ll hold it off.”
I have no idea how I’m going to do that, but they don’t need to know that.
“John, don’t be stupid,” Sam says. He drags me along, and I’m powerless to stop him.
“You’re a brave kid,” Lawson grumbles. “But you’re our biggest asset. If we get out of this, we’re going to need you.”
The Piken-Mog comes into view about fifty yards down the hall. It roars, excited to finally have us in its sights. The thing, barely more than an animal, beats its thick fists against the scarred flesh of its bulging pectorals.
Lawson turns to Caleb and Christian. “You’re up.”
The twins nod in unison. Christian immediately turns around and starts walking right towards the Piken-Mog.
“Stop!” I yell at him, then turn on Lawson. “Are you crazy? You can’t just send him to die!”
At first, the Piken-Mog seems confused by this development, some remnant of its trueborn brain registering that this solitary human must be insane. But then, with a line of drool dangling from his under bite, the Piken-Mog charges, bearing down on Christian.
“It’s okay,” Caleb interrupts. “Watch.”