I place an earbud in one ear, toggle Devine to communicate with Woodstock and say, “You read me?”
“Ayuh,” he says. “Be careful.”
As the dust kicked up by Betty’s rotorwash settles, I scan the area. The park is basically a big circle of land surrounding the old quarry. Tall grasses, small trees and large stones cover the area. Came here with a girlfriend once. Almost got to second base. Good times. Not the worst place in the world to die. Nice view anyway. If the quarry weren’t captivating enough, the view of the ocean stretches out three miles to the horizon. The few boats on the water are streaking steadily north, evacuating like everyone on land.
A loud seagull perched on top of a dark rock catches my attention. It’s holding a crab, panicked legs spread wide. The bird lets loose a white stream of crap before smashing the crab down. For a moment, I sympathize with the smaller creature. I’ve felt just like it.
I nearly miss what happens next. A shifting darkness behind the stone pinches the bird’s neck, eliciting a high pitched shriek that’s suddenly cut off. The bird tumbles to the side. The crab scurries free.
I take aim with my M4 and say, “Gordon’s behind the rock.”
Endo steps up next to me, a taser in one hand, his drill-tipped neural implant in the other. “No,” he says. “Gordon is the rock.”
The used-to-be man must hear us, because the dark rock shifts and stands. I haven’t seen Gordon since Boston. The man is a giant. Far larger than I remember. While he’s covered in thick, black skin like Nemesis’s, his facial features are still distinct enough to recognize him as the former general-turned-traitor, turned monster. When he sees me, a grin slowly spreads across his face. I’m beginning to think that not bringing a squadron of Apache helicopters was a big mistake.
19
A violent blossom of orange fire erases Gordon’s face. The explosion makes Endo, Collins and Alessi jump.
“A little warning next time,” Alessi grumbles.
I move my finger away from the grenade launcher’s trigger. “If I had warned you, I’d have warned him.” The under-barrel launcher is typically a one shot deal when the stinky, brown fan is spinning. It’s not like bullets. There’s no magazine full of grenades. Seasoned warriors can reload in two seconds flat—under fire. But I’m still getting used to the heavy hitting gear. Still, I manage to use the ten seconds it takes for the swirling smoke to drift away from Gordon’s face to eject the spent round, pull a fresh grenade from my mole pouch, slide it in and slap the breech closed. Locked, loaded and ready to rock ’n’ roll.
I’m going to need it.
Gordon is still smiling.
This is going to suck.
“Keep him occupied,” Endo says. “I need to get on his back.”
Really suck.
“You heard the man,” I say, stepping toward Gordon, M4 aimed and pressed against my shoulder. “Time to make a sacrifice play.”
Before I can engage Gordon, Alessi runs past me, headed for Gordon. Endo runs out diagonally, ducking behind some tall rocks, no doubt looking to come up behind the monster of a man, while Alessi distracts him. He wasn’t even speaking to me.
I lower my weapon and glance at Collins. She looks as mystified as I feel.
“Should we help?” I ask.
“Probably should,” she says, not moving. “In a minute. I want to see what they can do.”
So we watch the show.
Alessi lets out a banshee wail that instantly attracts Gordon’s attention. He no doubt knows that Endo is the true threat, but the fearless woman charging him, no weapon in sight, is hard to look away from. She’s got guts, that’s for damn sure. But if she’s not careful, they’re going to be spilled all over the rocks for the gulls to snack on.
Gordon’s fists clench. He doesn’t wind up for a punch, but I doubt he has to. When he strikes, it’s a blur, but he strikes nothing. Alessi slides between his legs. As Gordon spins in pursuit of the small woman, Endo emerges from behind the tall rocks, coming back around. The whole move was choreographed to make Gordon believe Endo would be coming up behind him. When he turned around after Alessi, he might have expected to also find Endo. Instead, he became an unwitting participant in a practiced maneuver.
Alessi ducks two close punches, and just when I think she’s run out of fancy moves, Endo leaps from a two-foot-tall boulder and lands on Gordon’s back like he’s a Velcro wall. Gordon flails, but Endo clings on tightly with his legs. Unshakable. With his left hand, Endo stabs the taser into Gordon’s left temple. With the right, he jams the drill-tipped neural whatsamabob into Gordon’s right temple.
Gordon shouts in frustration, but not pain.
Then some part of Gordon’s mind remembers that he, like Endo, is a highly trained soldier who knows how to fight. And when someone is on your back, you don’t reach for them or shake around.