Chapter 41

McCreed staggered as Sam pulled the trigger.

A gout of red flame preceded the heavy round that impacted into the rear of his right shoulder. I stared, dumbstruck, as he quickly ducked out of view. Without hesitation, he'd used the forward momentum from the hit. The sudden lurch melted into a smooth roll with all the grace and urgency of a predatory cat startled by a hunter.

Sam's rifle barked. Additional rounds slammed into the scaffolds, and the adjacent goons scattered as the chaos unfolded. The attention of the eyes below were diverted, some toward Rob and most now onto ourselves as I jerked in surprise from a sudden sting.

The warmth of blood, drawn from my cheek, soaked my collar as bullets fell around us like hail in a storm. Most had fallen too short or too wide to be of any danger, but a few of the more accurate shots, like the one that had chipped shards of plastcreet into my face, hissed and vibrated like vindictive hornets as they zipped by.

Sam shouted as she shifted her aim, "Hillside!"

Her barrel swiveled mechanically and punched echoes through the hazy maintenance yard at guards at different levels. Those who'd fired at us abandoned their attempts to aim as they ducked, dove, or weaved to avoid her sudden counterattack.

I could empathize.

My mind screamed I'd be hit any second now. It made me want to hide. To not want to stand. A "Chicken Little" feel, like the sky itself might collapse without a moment's notice.

"Reloading!" Sam shouted as her gun steamed in the cold air and dug for more ammo.

The guards resumed the bullet rain, and I raised my rifle with the full intention to join the fray, determined not to be useless.

It went off prematurely with a jolt so hard I almost dropped it. In the distance, a lone figure tumbled down the hillside with a clutched leg. The language he used was colorful and expressive. I could hear him, even from all the way over here, but the return fire from that direction immediately became sporadic and uncoordinated. The guards had redoubled their efforts to hide, so I spared a quick glance in Sam's direction.

Her side profile was toward me; she'd turned to aim toward Rob's side of the maintenance yard, which I'd lost track of when I'd focused on the hillside. I did a slight readjustment of my grip, confident at least I was able to hold the rifle properly this time as Sam's rifle report brushed past my face like a pillow's whisper. Her shots were out of sync with my own as I continued to keep the hillside too busy to take aim at either of us.

Each shot had the impact of a mortar in a war zone. I discovered I only needed to send a stray round whenever a head or barrel seemed pointed in our direction. I was reminded again of ants on a lightning-struck hill as the tiny figures dove for cover or scrambled to remain hidden.

The blare of a second klaxon signaled another Lock gate release.

Mid-aim, a guard was twisted violently by a round from Sam. She'd snap-shifted her aim to protect Rob's back and caused the disrupted shot to fly wildly off course, where it struck another victim of "wrong place at the wrong moment" syndrome.

You and me both, buddy...

The mob-like cloud of bodies within the yard erupted into a madhouse as Rob's hulky form charged into their midst and disappeared. It all unraveled like a warped round of Marco Polo. In between moments, I could detect Rob's location simply by the screams. Gaps began to appear deeper within the pile. Bodies flew. Limbs and equipment were shattered or broken. The guards were tossed aside like ragdolls upon the pitted and scarred plastcrete as heads appeared at the top of the stairwell: reinforcements.

Like a shark, Rob surfaced.

He was positioned near the edge of the stairwell when he yanked one of the guards into the air. Metal handles scattered in random directions from the tops of cylindrical objects strapped to the front of the guard's chest. Like an overturned turtle, the guard flailed. He frantically clawed at his vest just before Rob threw him into the first wave of the reinforcements that'd reached the top. The group fell like a line of dominos into the hidden opening of the stairwell as Rob shoved more of the confused crowd into the pile.

No one came back up or chased after him as he rocketed away. A deep, gut-twisting "whump" sent a plume of dark black smoke into the air as my rifle clicked dry.

Sam continued to fire beside me, a relentless stream of rounds to cover Rob's wild dash across the yard.

A near miss slammed into the grate in front of me, and I pressed against it. My mind screamed to take cover. To find a place to hide.

"I'm low!" Sam yelled, and it shook me back to the moment. My hands flew to my jacket as they began a frantic search for the ammo Rob had stashed, but memory failed me. I couldn't recall where he'd stowed...well, anything. Bullets pinged around us as I tore through pockets filled with objects useless for the situation. My palm finally brushed the edge of a boxy magazine along the side of my waist, tucked into the pockets Rob had stuffed them into.

I felt a surge of relief as I struggled to extract them. An impossible task half crouched. Fun fact: Pockets apparently aren't always the best place for magazines in a firefight. I think I finally got why all the games had characters bristling with pouches.

I turned toward Sam as one of the boxy magazines finally freed itself with a sharp tug.

"HERE!" I shouted and threw it in a beautiful arc, straight toward her head.

I winced.

Without a look, she tossed her empty aside, caught the airborne mag midair, and slammed it into the loading port. Or magazine...thingie. Whatever it was called, she filled it and gave it a firm slap.

The weapon clanked satisfyingly as she hit a lever, swung the rifle forward immediately, and shot a guard on the hillside in one smooth motion. The guard jerked back, crashed into a rock, and tumbled down to the next level like a stuntman in a holo.

He didn't get back up.

"RUN, YOU IDIOTS!" Rob screamed as he barreled past us. His huge arms pumped like pistons while Sam and I bolted after him. He'd already had a dozen meters on us when, sharp and sudden, gunfire erupted from behind, and we were driven into a blind sprint.

He veered us toward the nearest gate, with a massive 06 written on its surface in the same color and blocky font used for the hazard and zone markers. The top looked like a metal catwalk, wide enough for three people to walk abreast, fingertips outstretched.

My lungs burned, and my heart pounded like it might burst. Another klaxon sounded, and a lock gate in the distance yawed open to our right. The roar sounded like the enraged scream of a gargantuan creature as we raced along the top of our own gate. Boxy metal housings and protrusions dotted the surface that I was forced to weave around. My pack felt heavy. The slung rifle banged into my leg with every stride, but I continued to run.

"Two more to go!" Sam called out from behind my shoulder. I did a double take as she breezed past me in a steady glide. With a side roll, she cleared one of the waist-high boxes with little effort. Her rifle sat cradled in her arms as she moved with ease. and her heels clicked as she sped onward to the next.

Of course she'd be some sort of acrobatic runner...

I had just begun to sidestep when a sudden buzzing noise came from behind. I was pitched forward, out of control, and headfirst when the sky disappeared and the top of the lock's surface filled my vision. With a skid, I slid to a stop, oddly numb until the sting of my chin, hands, and knees made themselves obvious.

An attempt to roll halfway onto my side left me air-starved. My sides and back felt weird, though my heart continued to pound painfully within my chest.

What?

I heard heavy shots followed by a scream in the not-too-far distance. I was too dazed to figure out how far it'd been until Rob's revolver slid into view and beyond as he passed by where I'd been laid out.

Sweat, or at least what I hoped was only sweat, soaked my inner layer. I could feel the discomfort of rivulets of liquid within the inside of my jacket.

Sam's voice yelled out at me from just out of view as it drew nearer.

"You're okay. They got your bag, Owen. I've got you!"

She yanked one of my arms to drag me, and I felt the not-so-pleasant sensation of a twisted bone within my side. Something separated...sharp and immediate. Pain washed over me. So great I could only wheeze.

In that singular moment, the only thing I desperately wanted more than anything was to just stop. Go no further. Cease and desist. Halt.

Above, the clouds boiled. Their undersides were lightened into a pale peach blush by the dawn's sun.

"Price!" Sam yelled. There was worry in her voice. I could spot the terror on her face as she placed her hand over my neck. I shivered as her hand's contact point felt out my carotid artery. "Did the round penetrate?! Owen, speak to me!"

I wheezed again. And it hurt. Badly. It was like someone had slammed a sharp stick in my side just to wiggle it. Just under my right shoulder from rib cage to spine.

Pretty certain that wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Sam raised her rifle and returned fire as rounds zinged nearby. I could feel the shards of plastcrete scattered from impacts.

"Rob!" Sam screamed out, "Owen's hit! He's not talking!"

My brain tumbled end over end as it coughed out a list of things to look for: taste of blood? No. Problems breathing? Yep. Stabbing pains without moving? Nope. Stabbing pains while moving?

I tried again.

Oh yeah...

"M'alright..." I tried to mumble but couldn't seem to catch my breath. Before I knew it, Rob's worried face appeared in my view, but Sam had disappeared.

I must've blacked out.

"Owen?" He said with urgency. His iris rings spun brightly as he looked me over. He ran a hand over my sides and chest, and, like a Scrabber, I squeaked as the world became a new field of stars.

"Ribs" came out involuntarily as "hunnnnnnnGNNnnnnn!" as I tried to tell him. Rob's hands pressed inward and continued to probe the area. "There?" He asked as he pressed again and watched my face.

I felt my lips press together into a thin line. My eyes were closed already, but my chin only rose a fraction of an inch as I tried to nod. He thankfully pulled his hand away as I focused on shallow breaths.

"Yup," Rob said to Sam, "Cracked, or broken, but we gotta move." To me he said, "This is gonna hurt like the Dickens. Ready?"

I wanted to laugh but only managed to eek out, "The 'Dickens'? Really??"

His eyes seemed relieved as he grinned back, "Ah, so you're good enough to be a smartass? Means you'll be fine."

I felt a pinch as he jabbed my leg with an injector. Painful, sure, but nowhere near as bad as the ribs.

WHOAWHOAHOWAOWOWOWOWOW!

My veins felt like they were on fire!

My eyes snapped open like a set of shutters set loose too quickly. A thousand tiny brands, everywhere. Even my eyelids and the tips of my hair hurt as whatever he'd injected worked its way through my system.

As suddenly as it had begun, it was over. A mellow warmth rushed throughout my body in waves, and I felt...not great, but also not terrible.

Where was this when I was in the tunnels?!

The pain had mostly diminished, but no way had it just magically disappeared. Sharp edges became dull aches. Snaps became pops. My head pounded painfully. A clarity and awareness I hadn't felt in quite a while entered my brain, but it all felt...oddly strained.

I sat up slowly and was able to finally take a look around.

Sam and Rob were crouched on either side of me as they alternated peeks and shots. I'd landed by, or had been dragged behind, one of the mechanical housings for heavy equipment Sam had vaulted over. The big old blocky metal "doodad" just sitting out on top of the gate was maybe for a pump or a sensor. That didn't matter as much as how well it seemed to block the bullets as they flew toward us.

I worked to prop myself up and saw as Rob's eyes widened in surprise.

"Grenade!"

He dove to the side, lightning quick, to snatch a blackened cylinder out of midair. His shoulder impacted the ground with a grunt as he chucked the cylinder back twice as hard.

The explosion was louder this time, and my ribs actually hurt from the pressure wave as voices on the other side of our cover screamed. The gunshots ceased like a switch had been thrown to turn them off.

In my peripheral vision, one of the guards staggered into view with his hands on his ears. The side of his face trickled blood as I clung to my rifle like a lifeline as I realized I'd never reloaded.

With zero hesitation, Rob yelled at me as he picked off the guard with a single shot. "Get moving!"

The man toppled over the edge to disappear from view as I stared after him.

"Go! Move!" Rob yelled again.

I snapped out of it and attempted to stand. Something rubbed unpleasantly on my right side as I gingerly turned toward Sam. She'd already begun her run toward the next casing behind us. Her rifle barrel loomed as it swiveled past me, and I lurched in her general direction.

Sam's rifle fired slowly and precisely at targets behind me. While I couldn't run, I did manage a shuffled gait. She picked off anyone too brave or too stupid to take cover as fewer and fewer rounds came toward us.

I held my right arm to my side as I focused on movement and tried not to think about how much everything would hurt.

Later. If there would be a later...

I heard a strange noise from behind. A pneumatic catapult, or pressurized launcher. Like a piston had suddenly let go.

Sam's mouth hung open as her eyes tracked something that had launched into the sky. I hadn't made it fully past her yet, but I turned to look up as a shadow passed over us. My optics took in the shape of an airborne figure on its way to the ground. It was high and had gone over us.

With a pressurized thud, the figure landed on the surface of the gate in the direction we'd need to go. Slowly, an APM-enhanced body encased within a suit and tie unfolded itself.

My alert system went off.

[WARNING]

[APM: Class Twenty] IDENTIFIED! [Effects: High Strength, Tissue Constriction, Mass Expansion, Durability Enhancement] [STATUS: UNLICENSED]

[WARNING]

The suit expanded. It was now obvious where it had been cut and designed around the new form.

"Ah, Mr. Price..." McCreed said as he turned toward us. Casually, he straightened his tie, now looped around a neck much thicker than it should have been. His iris rings blazed. I felt as if they were focused on me and me alone as his voice took on a creepy, singsongish tone.

"Found you..."