I began firing at the soldiers with one gun while shooting into the floor with another. Glancing back and forth between the two and needing to change position to keep from getting shot made my accuracy nosedive even more. The split in my attention also resulted in getting grazed by more than a few bullets. To my surprise, they were firing regular rounds, not silver. Still, if one struck me between the eyes, I’d be helpless while my brains knit back together enough for me to think.
Then a grenade was lobbed into my corner. I kicked it away a mere fraction of a second before it exploded. It wasn’t an amped-up concussion grenade like they’d used on the pier, but it contained silver shrapnel. They must be getting impatient. I spent a tense few minutes firing blind while my eyes healed, and when my vision was restored, to my dismay I saw that the steel barriers above my friends’ cells were still intact despite my emptying two full magazines into the floor.
Another silver-filled grenade exploded nearby, forcing me away from the protection of the bullet-resistant buttresses. I couldn’t risk one detonating near my heart.
Frustration made me almost oblivious to the pain as I was shot several times despite keeping low to the floor. The steel barriers above the vampire cells were too thick—I couldn’t get to Tate and the others this way. Very soon, I’d have to propel myself through this ceiling or risk getting blown up where I crouched, and that was only if I beat the soldiers who were already on their way to the sublevel above me. From the thoughts I overheard, not to mention their communicating on their wireless devices, Madigan had ordered them to attack me from the upper level, too. He might want more of my blood for testing purposes, but he wouldn’t risk my escaping to get it.
Madigan.
My fingers tightened on the M-4 despite its having been fired enough to make the metal scorching. It looked like I wouldn’t be able to free my friends, but there was still something I could do.
I spent several precarious minutes trying not to get shot while sending my senses outward to weed through the myriad of thoughts in this compound. At last, I found the ones I was looking for, and for once, he wasn’t singing something to himself. Madigan was implementing emergency security procedures that had never before been needed, all while rushing to get to a safe place in the facility.
I focused on his thoughts as if they were a homing beacon. Then I used the straps to hang two M-4s around my neck before I yanked up a large thermal control unit. Holding the metal machine in front of me, I flew toward the opposite corner of the enclosed space, wincing as more rounds found their mark. Still, none of them were near my head. I couldn’t fire back while holding the bulky unit, but it was an effective, if crude, bulletproof shield.
I also used it as a battering ram when I shoved it above my head and propelled myself upward at the same time. Debris hampered my vision, and my lower half took the brunt of gunfire as I forced myself through concrete, wood, and steel to the next level above me. It took longer since this section was far more reinforced than the other one I’d blasted through. Then, amidst a cloud of dust and insulation particles, I looked for Madigan. He wasn’t here, but from his thoughts, he was close. Before I could leave to search for him, a new set of guards rushed up to the single doorway. Without hesitation, I chucked the demolished coolant machine at them.
With the supernatural speed I’d used, it made a smear out of the ones it hit, but sadly, that was only a few of them. The rest poured through the door while opening fire.
I tried to escape by smashing through the nearest wall and ended up splatting against it as though I were in a cartoon. The room I’d forced my way into had steel walls that had to be two feet thick and its single door sealed shut with the ominous sound of heavy locks. When I tried to force my way through the roof next, I had the same dismal results, with an added detriment of cracking my skull hard enough to daze me.
This was no ordinary office. With its lack of furniture or other fixtures, plus its incredibly thick steel walls and door, it had to be a panic room. The only way out was down, and a glance into the hole I’d made showed almost a dozen guards with weapons aimed right at me.
Son of a bitch, I’d trapped myself in Madigan’s panic room before the bastard made it in here!
“Switch to silver ammo,” a helmeted guard barked, to the accompanying sound of multiple magazines being slammed home.
Uh-oh. I tried to jam their weapons with my borrowed telekinetic abilities, but it didn’t work, probably because my head still really hurt. I didn’t think all the cracks in my skull had knit back together yet, and I didn’t want to know what the wet, sticky thing was dripping down my neck.
“There’s no way out, suck head,” the same guard spat. “Stand down.”
Suck head? That made me laugh, which sent alarms to the part of me that could still think. Do what he says, or they’ll kill you, that part urged. You’re in no shape to fight, and they’ve got you cornered.
True and true. But when I spoke, I didn’t say “I surrender.” Instead, I said two other words.
“Fuck you.”
Death didn’t scare me. It was my way back to Bones.