The fourth soldier, the one who had given the orders, was also enhanced. Wyatt felt the dark, dense energy pouring over him. He’d been lucky to discover one of the enhanced men immediately. This one was ready for him. It was even possible he could see as well in the dark as Wyatt could.
Wyatt used his speed to go up the walls and run along them back toward the last soldier guarding the other side of the room. His energy was every bit as potent as their leader’s had been. Whitney had sent three enhanced soldiers along with two normal ones.
The soldier met him halfway, knife in hand, streaking every bit as fast as Wyatt across the room. Wyatt caught his wrist at the last moment, deflecting the blade away from his belly. He continued his forward momentum, holding on to the wrist as he did so, driving the man’s arm back toward his own left shoulder. The soldier’s feet went out from under him as his body flipped over backward.
He landed hard on his back, driving the air from his lungs, but as Wyatt slammed the wrist down to take the knife, the soldier rolled and took out Wyatt’s leg, breaking his own wrist in the process. He didn’t so much as grunt in pain. Rather he stood up and tore off his mask, his eyes blazing at Wyatt.
Wyatt shook his head. Clearly he’d picked the wrong soldier, thinking the other would be the most difficult. This soldier was more robot than human. The thought registered as his opponent turned his weapon on him. Wyatt dove forward, under the gun, coming up hard between the soldier’s legs, hitting him in the crotch with his head so hard he actually launched the man into the air. This time the grunt was very satisfactory. There were some body parts that were still human for certain.
As the soldier came down hard onto one of the tables, splintering it, sending bottles and computers flying in all directions, the glass shattering as it hit the floor, Wyatt snagged the gas mask and put it on. Only seconds had gone by, but he could feel the first effects.
The soldier rolled, trying to orient himself, trying to get away from Wyatt as he did so. Wyatt shot him twice, a one-two tap to the head. The soldier grunted again.
“What the hell are you?” Wyatt asked aloud, projecting his voice away from his position.
The leader shot toward the sound of Wyatt’s voice, firing rapidly in a long sweeping spray.
So much for a quiet entry and exit, bayou man, Draden said. What happened to Zen and the knife?
Wyatt returned fire, hitting the leader squarely between the eyes. That should have been five down, but I’ve got one who seems to be the walkin’ dead. I can’ kill the son of a bitch. Bullets don’ seem to faze him.
We’ve got to get moving, Draden said. Stop playing down there. With all the noise you’re making, the neighbors will be showing up as well, although if we’re lucky the soundproofing will hold. Need a hand?
You’ll need a gas mask. They dumped somethin’ foul in here.
I’m coming in, don’t shoot me. Take care of your little zombie pal while I search this place for the files we need.
I left you a nice big door, Wyatt said.
The soldier he’d tapped in the head suddenly exploded into action, coming off the floor like a jumping spider, arms and legs out as he hurled himself at Wyatt. Wyatt shot him twice more, this time in the chest, aiming for the heart. Wyatt rarely missed. All he heard was two more grunts, as if the soldier felt the bullets, but dismissed them.
The man landed on him, driving him to the floor, his blade slipping into Wyatt’s skin, pushing through tissue and muscle, so sharp at first, Wyatt didn’t even know the knife was in him. The breath hissed out of him.
“I’ve had it with you,” he snapped and rammed his thumbs into the man’s eye sockets.
At once he felt the exoskeleton, a hard shell beneath the skin and eyes of the man’s head. Surely Whitney wasn’t producing cyborgs? That was far too science fiction for Wyatt. It was bad enough the mad doctor had turned three little babies into vipers, now he had to contend with a crazy, and very angry robot.
The soldier howled, and twisted the knife. Wyatt caught his wrist and plunged his own knife into the man’s leg, cutting the artery. At least he was certain he’d done so. The head and at least part of the chest were covered with what appeared to be thickened bone, almost like armor, but the blade of his knife had gone into human flesh.
Wyatt kicked the man’s gun away from him and dragged himself a relatively safe distance away. His hands shook as he tried to get to his field kit. It took a moment to calm his mind, to allow his healing energy to pour into his own body and cut off the steady flow of blood.
Wyatt! Mon Dieu, Wyatt! How bad are you hurt? Do you need help? I’m close to the children, but I can get to you in a few minutes if I have to.
The sheer fear and concern pouring into him lightened his mood considerably. The knife wound had gone from numb to blazingly painful fast. And the miserable refusing-to-die-no-matter-what cyborg-man was making hideous noises and thrashing around.
I swear I’m in the twilight zone, he said to his team.