CHAPTER 20

Luke stands, listening at one of the many side doors we’ve chosen to mount our assault. After what feels like an hour, but must be only minutes, he raises three fingers above his head. We’re going in on three.

Mike moves to the other side of the door to cover Luke. Three fingers become two.

Is Sam waiting in there with a gun? Will he shoot at us, too?

Two fingers become one.

Can I do it? Will I be able to take him down if he’s a threat?

The last finger falls, and he closes his fist. We move.

We’re met with no resistance, only a wall of impenetrable darkness. The little light from outside highlights a wall of barrels to our left, and we rush to take cover behind those before we’re discovered.

We wait, adjusting to the dark. Nothing seems to be moving, but as my eyes focus on the shadows, I gasp in disbelief. The space is breathtaking in its vastness. The lighting is so dim that I can’t see either of the walls that border us on the sides. What I can see, however, is the rows upon rows of pods littering the warehouse floor. Just as Sam said. Hundreds of them. How do we tell the difference? How do we know which ones are mutating hybrids and which ones are the humans being used for food? There’s no way to distinguish.

Beyond the empty stretch of space and darkness, I can see there’s only half a second floor. A series of scaffolding and metal stairs zigzags to it and all the way up to the ceiling. The platform is shrouded in complete darkness, but right away I know that’s where our shooter is. Waiting to take us out too, no doubt.

“Holy shit, guys,” Mike’s whisper cuts through the gloom. “Look closer at the pods. Right there, smack dab in the middle.”

I look to where he points. I see it. A large pod, much larger than the rest, made different by the fact that it is torn wide open. Like something big has already emerged from it.

“Fuck. It’s already hatched.” Dom sounds terrified. For once, I don’t blame him. We all know the “it” he’s referring to. The super mind is live, and somewhere in this building with us.

“Okay, people. Change of plans. Looks like we’re going to need to track down the big bad before we can destroy it.” Luke whispers.

A bit easier said than done.

“We still plant the C4 while we look,” Barclay interjects. “We need to take this place down after we’re done. We just need to be more vigilant.”

“Split up into our assigned groups,” Luke orders. “See those steel girders running through both sides of this place? Those are weight bearing joists. We place the C4 along those, and we meet back here. If you run into the shooter, take him out.” He doesn’t look my way. “If you meet the big bad, call for back up, and keep your eyes peeled for any civilians.”

Barclay, his two guys, plus Lewis and Dom melt into the shadows left of the cavernous room, and we head to the right. The room is spooky as shit. I keep thinking I see movement in the shadows, and my head swivels on my shoulders. Even though its cold in here, sweat trickles down my forehead, stinging my eyes. I wipe it away with my elbow, not daring to take my hands off my gun.

We stumble across the first girder. Mike pulls his rucksack from his back and starts extracting the compact blocks of C4. Gordo stays with him for cover, while the rest of us move on. At the next girder, we leave Robyn and Polly behind while Luke and I move on to the third. Running in the cover of the shadows, we make our way to our target.

Luke bends down as soon as we hit it, digging the C4 out of his pack. He places them in position and is in the process of inserting the blasting caps when bullets start ricocheting off the girder.

“Take cover,” Luke shouts as we dive back into the shadows. I roll behind a counter lining the wall as Luke rounds it from the other side.

“Where’s the shooter?” I ask. Luke takes a quick peek. Bullets ping along the metal wall above our heads. He ducks back down.

“Is it Sam?” I ask, fear making my voice shake.

“No. It’s a woman. She’s just fucking standing at the bottom of the scaffolding over there.”

A woman? What the hell? I peek out. Luke’s right. There is a woman there in a dress, her long hair flowing down her back. Recognition sets in.

“It’s Melissa Higgins,” I whisper to Luke. “From Sam’s old crew. The ones that disappeared from the farm.” Now, we know where they disappeared to.

Footsteps announce her approach.

“She’s coming closer.” My eyes are wide with disbelief.

“Melissa,” I yell out. “Stop shooting. It’s us. Bix and Luke.”

My yell just incites a whole new round that chips away at the counter top above our heads. She’s doesn’t seem to give a fuck who it is.

Luke shoots me a look of sorrow before he pops up from behind the counter and fires off two shots. She doesn’t retaliate. Luke always was a good shot.

We listen for a moment, waiting to hear any more footsteps. More gunshots echo about the building, but not at us. Some of the others are running into their own problems, no doubt. Luke grabs at the radio on his hip.

“Check in,” he barks.

“Here,” Barclay’s voice crackles from the radio, followed quickly by the others. They’re all okay.

“Craziest thing ever,” Gordo responds back. “I think I recognized the guy shooting at us, too. He was at the farm when we found Sam. He just walked right at us, shooting. His face was blank like he didn’t even know where he was. Didn’t even try to protect himself.”

“Doesn’t make any sense,” Luke whispers in the radio. “Why would they just walk right into our hands? Unless…”

He bolts upright, me right behind him.

“Heads up!” he yells into the radio seconds before the hybrid cuts through the air toward us. I catch its eyes on the way down seconds before it swipes its huge, clawed hand towards Luke as he tries to raise his gun. The hand connects with the gun, sending it and Luke careening in the darkness. I hear the sickening thud as he hits the wall.

Fuck!

I raise my gun and fire. The thing is close enough for me to see the rounds splinter the boney chest, but it doesn’t slow it down.

You gotta shoot the head.

The voice in my brain tries to give me direction, but it’s hard to hear it over my screaming.

I aim for the head, but the thing is too damn close. It swipes at me, the claws so near to my neck I feel the breeze as they slash by. It’s second claw swings at me, and I yank up my gun to block against the assault. It yanks the gun from my grip, throwing it to the side like it’s a useless toy. Mimicking a schoolyard bully, it grabs me by the front of my jacket and lifts me up to its face, my toes dangling on the ground. Something rotten stings my nostrils as I suck in what’s about to be my last breath.

I’m going to die!

That voice is clear as a fucking bell.

I stop resisting, frozen in place by the display of sharp canines as it opens its mouth. I want to scream but try desperately to keep my focus.

Amy.

Her name pops into my head and with it comes clarity. She’s depending on me. I can quit fighting and be dead in seconds, or I can keep fighting until the end.

I let go of the thick wrist holding me hostage and reach for the knife on my hip. Spittle flies from its mouth, covering my face as it gnashes its teeth aiming to latch on to my neck. I jerk my head out of its reach, plunging the knife into one of the hate-filled gray eyes. I twist it deep.

The creature wails in pain but doesn’t loosen its grip. Gritting my own teeth, I push harder on the blade, twisting it with all I got.

Die, you motherfucker!

It finally let’s go of me, and I drop to the floor as it stumbles and falls.

I take a moment to catch my breath. My arms shake with the effort of pushing myself up, and my legs refuse to hold me. They wobble a bit as I pick up my gun and force my way to the damn thing, giving it a kick. It doesn’t move. I’m not taking any chances, and I’m sure as hell not about to turn my back on it. I shoot it twice in the head, its cranium exploding into mush.

The cavernous room echoes with rounds and screams. I know we’re not the only ones under attack, but Luke is my priority. I find him on his hands and knees, trying to stand.

“You okay?” I whisper as I help him up.

“The hybrid?” Fear coats his voice.

“Dead but the others are under attack. We gotta help—”

“Bixby!”

The scream holds my heart in a vise-like grip. I whirl, trying to find the source. Amy is being carried up the scaffolding over the shoulder of a black-haired head I remember well. Sam has her. And he’s taking her up there to do what? He won’t harm her. He can’t. He loves her.

“Amy,” I yell back, her terrified eyes connecting with mine. I choke on my fear like a fist down my throat.

“Let’s go.” Luke retrieves his gun and heads toward the scaffolding.

“But the others,” I yell after his back, torn both ways.

“Can look after themselves. Amy can’t.”

Decision made, we run toward the stairs and the unknown threat that is Sam.