Callsign: Queen (Zelda Baker) (Chess Team, #2)

A predatorial growl saved her.

She didn’t see the oborot that made a mad dash for her, but its throaty sound of hunger snapped her thoughts back to the present just in time for her to pivot out of its way as it grabbed at her. As she sprang to the side, she grabbed the creature by the back of the neck and forced its throat down onto a triangle of broken glass twice the size of her hands. The oborot made wet, gurgling gasps as its life’s blood poured from its body, oozing down the side of the booth and covering the yellow eye in a red veil. It made a few feeble swipes at Queen, each weaker than the one before, until finally it went limp. The shard of glass snapped under its dead weight, and the oborot slid face-first to the ground.

Queen used her foot to roll the oborot over onto its back. She could tell by the other wounds it had sustained that it was the same creature she’d fought earlier. No wonder it had died so easily. It had probably been on its last legs when it came after her, but unable to resist its hunger or lust for killing—whatever it was that drove the beast. She couldn’t spare time to examine it closely, but it was much less animal-like than she had expected. It was a muscular man. His face, neck and forearms were covered in hair, but the hair was not coarse like typical body hair, but fine. Its fingernails were long and thick. Otherwise, she saw little else to distinguish it from an ordinary human being.

“What’s your story?” she whispered. Did you sign up for this duty, or are you another one of Manifold’s victims? Are there many more like you? She hoped not, but she had a feeling her one-woman war would only get more difficult from here.

She scanned the amusement park, trying to decide where to begin. To her left was a broken down boat-swing ride, the ship in which riders sat lying on its side. Up ahead lay an old bumper car ride. Patches of moss and weeds grew all over the old track, and a couple of upended cars were scattered about, while others sat, as if waiting for the ghosts of Pripyat to hop in and go for a spin. It looked to Queen like the bedroom of a child who hadn’t picked up his toys in a long time. The roof, if there had ever been one, was gone, leaving only the metal framework that provided electricity to the cars.

In the middle of the track she spotted a trap door. She hurried to the bumper car ride, vaulted the side railing, and made for the door.

She had only taken three steps when she heard a gentle whirring sound, and the closest bumper car shot toward her. She leapt out of its way, but it caught her heel and sent her stumbling forward. Before she could recover her balance, another car careened into her. She rolled up over its hood and fell heavily onto her side, blood filling her mouth as she bit her tongue. Damn! Was someone controlling these cars?

Both cars had turned around and were coming at her again, bouncing over the uneven track. She took off at a dead sprint, easily outdistancing them. Another bumper car came in from the side, almost upending her, but she was ready, and leaped over it. As she hit the ground, she heard a satisfying crash as the three cars collided.

Reaching the trapdoor, she hauled it up and tossed it to the side, aware that the bumper cars were coming for her again. She shined her flashlight down into the hole and was disappointed to see that it was merely a small mechanical room no more than six feet across with no doors or trapdoors inside that could take her any farther. Scratch that off the list.

She had no time to ruminate on it, because the bumper cars were almost on top of her again. She made straight for them and leaped onto the hood of the center car. The moment her foot touched down she jumped again, leaping past the moving car. Falling forward, she rolled, though her backpack made it more of an awkward tumble.

“Impressive,” a voice said as she came to her feet. For a moment, she thought she had left the Manifold agent’s headphone on, but then she realized the voice was coming from all around her. Nor was this the voice of the person she’d heard speaking through the earphone. This man had a deep, smoky voice brimming with arrogance. “You shouldn’t have come here, Queen.”

Lighting flashed all around, or so it seemed, but Queen quickly realized they were strobe lights set each corner. Disoriented by the flickering, she turned and ran for the nearest side rail. The world seemed to move in slow motion, a black and white slideshow played out before her eyes. Another car shot toward her and she couldn’t avoid this one in time. Pain lanced through her legs as the car smashed into her shins. She fell face-first onto the hood, her breath leaving her in a whoosh. Wincing, she pulled herself up, thinking to climb inside.