Then I tensed, about to attack and take as many of them with me as I could, when a frantic voice burst through their com system.
“This is Falcon 1. Specimen A1 is loose in Section 6!”
Wasn’t Specimen A1 what the other guards had called me? Huh, same as the steak sauce . . . I shook my head in aggravation to stop that useless line of thought. Heal faster, brains!
“Negative, Falcon 1. This is Falcon 7, and I have Specimen A1 contained in Section 13,” said the one who’d called me suck head.
“Falcon 7, I’m looking at A1,” came the emphatic reply.
“You can’t be, the bitch is here,” my guy snapped, sounding pissed.
My haziness lifted, either because my head finally finished healing or because I was the only one who knew how two people could swear that I was in different places at the same time. When I laughed again, it wasn’t in a dazed way. It was with relief.
Denise was here, and from the screams that came through on the next transmission, she was kicking serious ass.
“I’m telling you A1 is here, and we’ve also got an unknown hostile tearing up Section 11. They need backup, now!”
Helmeted heads began to swivel between me and the guard that I’d deduced was this unit’s leader.
“What the fuck?” someone muttered.
I didn’t know who this other “hostile” was, but I knew a good distraction when I saw one. I flung myself up and sprang off the roof to maximize velocity as I plowed into the guards. The impact killed two on the spot, but the others opened fire. I pulled one of the dead guards on top of me, using him as a shield as I lunged toward the rest, snapping ankles and then necks when they fell.
The sealed room that had trapped me now trapped them. The guards below began to fire through the hole, but they hit their friends more than me. Plus, with the extensive Kevlar the guards wore, my dead body shield kept the bullets away from any vital spots, though my arms and legs sizzled from all the silver pumped into them. I ignored the pain, concentrating on finishing my task. For all I knew, one of these guards had fired the shots that killed Bones, so I was merciless in my actions.
Snap. Crush. Tear.
I repeated those until nothing around me moved. Then I shoved bodies into the hole to stop more bullets from peppering the room and ricocheting off the steel walls. When that was done, I let out a victory howl that ended when I realized I’d won, but I still couldn’t get out of the room unless someone opened the door.
Maybe I could get someone to do that. Seized with an idea, I grabbed the nearest dead guard and spoke into his communication system.
“Denise,” I shouted. “You’ve gotta find a way to open this door!”
“Who the fuck are you?” the voice on the other end snapped.
I didn’t care enough to answer. I heard background noise from him, which meant Denise should have been able to hear me, too, if she was still near this guy. From the fierce sound of fighting, she had to be.
Then a different voice blasted from a com device on another body.
“ALL units to Section 13! Situation critical!”
Aw, hell, Section 13 was where I was. The guards below must’ve called in the fact that I’d demolished the soldiers in the panic room.
“Hurry up, Denise!” I yelled into the com. Then I began to gather up M-4s that had the most ammo left before pausing to pull a Kevlar vest off a dead guard. Much more manageable than taking his body with me.
“I repeat, situation critical!” screamed the panicked voice through the com. “Hostile sighted and . . . oh God. What is that? WHAT IS THAT?”
I pulled on the blood-spattered vest, wondering what Denise had shapeshifted into this time. From the sound of the guard, could’ve been a Tyrannosaurus rex. She’d made it to my floor fast, too. Just moments ago, she’d still been in Section 6, wherever that was—
The thick titanium bolts around the door snapped back into the walls faster than they’d deployed. Then it didn’t open; it crashed inward, flattening a body beneath it with enough force to make something that looked like raspberry jam spurt from its sides.
But that wasn’t what made me freeze, my M-4 halting halfway up in its arc. It was the thing on the other side of the door. White hair framed a face that showed more skull than skin except for a set of blazing emerald eyes. Bullet-riddled clothes hung off a body that looked like old leather and dried meat wrapped around bone. When it bared its teeth in a hideous version of a smile, I instinctively recoiled.
And then it spoke.
“Hallo . . . Kitten.”
Eighteen