Push (7 page)

“There’s no
if
,” Lien says.

“So what now, CL?” Tyrone asks, and he and Luka exchange one of those I’m-a-guy-and-that-makes-me-awesome looks.

I hold on to my patience by a thread. “CL?”

“Clan leader. That’s you. We’re the clan,” Lien explains, her tone terse.

“Nice,” Luka says, “and a little surprising.”

She shoots him a passive look. “What? You’re not the only person who’s ever picked up a controller.”

“I thought clans are teams that play other teams in FPS or MMO,” I say. “You counting the Drau as a team?”

Luka’s brows shoot up. “Been reading up on first-person shooters and massive multiplayer online?”

I shrug. “Checked out a couple of sites in case they might help me understand the layout of the game. Not that I’ve had much time to work on that yet. But I will, when we get back.” I say that last sentence like it’s a done deal.

“Task left unfinished,” Lien says, then elaborates when I glance at her. “You left a task unfinished so you’ll make it back to finish it.” I notice that Kendra’s hovering close beside her, saying nothing, staring at the ground.

“I thought that’s why ghosts come back . . .” Luka says.

Lien shoots him a cool glare. “I modified the superstition. It’s like we’re ghosts here. So we go back to finish the unfinished.”

“Oooookay,” Tyrone says.

“Did
you
leave a task unfinished?” I ask Lien.

She runs her fingers through her still-damp hair. “Blow-dryer’s still plugged in.”

Kendra slams the side of her thigh with her fist. “How can you be so calm?” she explodes. “Talking about bullshit? Even joking around?” She glares at us, tears shimmering in her eyes, then she rounds on Lien. “How can you chat with them about superstitions and stupid gaming terms as if they matter?” Her words tumble out in a rush. “As if we aren’t going to—”

“Get started on our mission,” I cut her off before she can finish the thought. None of us needs a reminder of our mortality. We know. Each and every one of us knows.

“You’re right, Kendra,” Tyrone says, conciliatory, holding up his hands, palms out. “We should save the chatty-chat.”

I nod. “Break time’s over. Let’s move.” I’m channeling Jackson. I understand so much more about him now, about the way he acted and the things he did. I only hope I get the chance to tell him that, to feel his strong arms close around me once more, to breathe the scent of his skin and rest my ear against his heart just to listen to the steady, solid beat.

“Move how?” Lien asks. “You got an idea to get us out of here? Or any idea of where
here
is?”

“We’re in an elevator,” I say as I examine the keypad by the door. I don’t have an ID card and I don’t know the code.

“Yeah, I guessed that much.” Lien plants her fists on her hips. “Got any idea as to the code?”

I key in a few sequences: 1-2-3-4. 4-3-2-1. 1-3-2-4. 4-2-3-1. We could be here for a week at this rate. I glance at the LED number overhead, and try: 7-7-7-7.

Nothing happens.

“You mind?” Tyrone asks, stepping up beside me.

“Knock yourself out.”

He enters 3-2-7-2. Luka snorts.

“Three-
A-R-C
,” Lien says. “Add UNLOCK and it’s a cheat code for
Call of Duty
.”

When the door stays shut, I say, “Why
COD
? Why not
Halo
, or . . . I don’t know . . .
Donkey Kong
? There are probably hundreds of cheat codes for every game. How do we pick just one?”

“Try
Resident Evil
,” Lien says.

Tyrone tries some codes. The door stays firmly shut.

Kendra’s pacing circles. I have a feeling that if we don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to lose her to whatever black hole her inner dialogue is dragging her to. I study the keypad.

“We could try—”

“No more codes,” I say, cutting Luka off as I signal Tyrone to make room for me. I trade places with him and trace my fingertips along the numbers, hoping the Committee will just feed me the knowledge in that freaky, crazy way of theirs. No such luck. I’m on my own.

“If I can’t do this with finesse, I’ll try force.” Reaching back, I grasp the handle of my sword. I slip the tip of the black blade into the card reader, plant the heel of my palm against the end, layer my other hand on top, and ram it in with all my might. A shower of sparks erupts from the casing, followed by a crackling noise. But the massive metal door stays shut.

“That was effective,” Lien says. There’s an edge to her tone, and while it grates, I do understand. She’s been at this longer than me, she’s a transfer from a team that was wiped out, and despite the fact that we made it through the last mission, she has no real reason to have tons of faith in me.

Luka bristles and looks like he’s about to lace into her. I give a tiny shake of my head. He frowns, but keeps quiet. Yay for small miracles.

“Patience, grasshopper,” I say to Lien.

She narrows her eyes. “Condescending, much?”

And here I was thinking the whole hand-holding thing had rallied the old team spirit. Not so much.

“No. My grandfather used to say that to me as a joke. It was from some old TV show. No condescension intended.”

She looks like she’s going to say something more, but in the end she keeps quiet.

I play with the settings on the side of my weapon cylinder, the way Jackson did to break into the cold room in the caves. When I fire, the black surge isn’t greasy and oily; it’s a thin, powerful stream that hits the control pad where it hurts.

A second geyser of sparks erupts, bigger and brighter than the first. The front of the keypad falls free, hanging on by a single, melted screw, and the wires within spark and flare. A horrible chemical smell rises from the mass of heated metal and melting plastic.

Lien smirks. “And that was equally—”

“Effective,” Luka cuts her off as the door cracks open in the middle, letting in a narrow stripe of bright, white light.

LUKA AND TYRONE CURL THEIR FINGERS INTO THE NARROW crack and slowly, slowly drag the door open, revealing a patch of light and a sliver of white floor and white walls.

I signal for quiet, then point at Luka and Lien and cock my head to the right. I point at Tyrone and Kendra and cock my head to the left.

For an instant, Kendra hesitates and I think she’s going to argue. But I can’t pair her with Lien. Enough of this our-team-your-team crap. We are one team and she needs to get that right now. And Lien and Luka need to stop glaring at each other. Pairing them up seems like a good plan.

I stare Kendra down and she falls in beside Tyrone. She closes her eyes for a second and takes a deep breath before opening them again and offering a tiny nod. I guess it’s her way of telling me she knows what I’m doing and she knows I’m right.

I hold up my thumb and two fingers, then just two fingers, and finally, one finger alone. We explode out the door, my team going right and left, me going straight.

“Clear,” I call.

“Clear,” Luka echoes back at me a second before Kendra says, “Clear.”

I take a second to evaluate our surroundings. The walls aren’t white; they just looked that way in the initial burst of light. They’re pale gray, polished concrete, smooth, a little shiny. The ceiling overhead appears to be made of corrugated metal—like the door we just burst through—with rows and rows of bright inset lights.

“Still weirdly familiar,” Lien says softly.

Luka frowns. “Yeah, sort of like
Halo
, but not quite.”

Tyrone shakes his head. “More like
Resident Evil
, I’d say.”

“Creepy,” Lien says.

“They’re close,” Kendra whispers. “I can feel them.”

We can all feel them. My gut writhes with the certainty that the Drau are just around the next corner or maybe the one after that. Too close for comfort.

When we were in Vegas, Tyrone told me that when we get dropped in, it creates some sort of rift that alerts the Drau. In highly populated areas, we get dropped fairly close because the other people around can help mask our presence. If we enter the mission in a more isolated spot—like the caves—we respawn farther away to decrease the risk that the Drau will pinpoint our location right away. For an added layer of stealth, our cons scramble our signal once we’re here, and that makes it even tougher for the Drau to find us.

Where we are now definitely doesn’t feel like a populated area, so we ought to be far from the Drau nest, not right on top of it. But my whole body’s on alert, every neuron pulsing the word:
enemy
. From the intensity of the urge to flee, I’m guessing we’ll run into them within minutes.

“Clusterfrack of the first degree,” Tyrone mutters.

Kendra and Lien exchange a veiled look, and Lien whispers, “You do what I told you.”

Kendra nods.

I hope Lien gave her some advice on how to deal, because the possibility of her freaking out on a mission is terrifying. It could put all our lives at risk.

My con tells me which direction to go. I point and say, “Stay behind me. Stay paired up, no matter what. Follow my lead. From here out, stay quiet.”

Luka’s mouth draws in a taut line. I suspect some inner well of machismo makes him want to offer to take point, or makes him want to point out that I’m not partnered, that there’s no one to watch my back. But he swallows any argument because my con’s the one telling us where to go, which means everyone else gets to follow, like it or not.

The corridor’s wide and cold. We move forward silently, except for this weird flapping noise . . . I turn and glare at Lien’s flip-flops. They’re pink with white cartoon kitties festooned with a bow on top. I stare at them, feeling very much like we’re a bunch of kids and not at all like a group of soldiers who can save the world.

Lien steps out of the flip-flops, leaving them behind. Not ideal, her going barefoot, but the noise and the risks of trying to run in flip-flops aren’t ideal, either. Barefoot on cold concrete’s better than dead.

Still following my con, we go straight, then left, then left again. I feel like a mouse in a maze. This place is just a jumble of corridors. Every hundred feet or so, we get to a three-way split with hallways running at right angles to one another. We pass a few doors but not many. So why all the corridors? Where do they lead?

We round another corner and another. I stop dead.

Ahead of us is a huge group of Drau, glowing like hundred-watt bulbs. They’re in neat rows, weapons drawn, aiming down the corridor.

Facing the wrong way.

All we see are their backs. I didn’t just feel like we were walking in circles. We
were
walking in circles. The Committee brought us around behind the enemy.

I’m not a look-a-gift-horse-in-the-mouth kind of girl. I signal my team to fan out to the sides, backs to the walls, firing as we move.

The Drau barely realize we’re here before we take down the rear line. I’m guessing about a dozen of them get sucked into the oily, black, speed-of-light ooze that comes from our weapons. They’re swallowed whole. My stomach turns as two get pulled in at once, limbs melting together, fusing them into one writhing, shrieking entity. Their comrades fire, raining pellets of light and pain down on us like a storm.

Chaos.

They move at impossible speeds.

We hit them hard with the element of surprise, but that’s gone now. And there are way more than a dozen of them.

Luka and Tyrone work in unison, shooting, taking down anything that comes at them.

I aim. Shoot. My shot wings one of the Drau, but doesn’t take it down. Lien’s right beside me, but it’s Kendra who fires, killing it before I can take a second shot. There’s barely time to nod my thanks before I have to take down the next one and the next.

“Fall back,” I order, staying in front while my team backs up, covering them. Luka’s right behind me, covering me. I want to give him hell. He isn’t exactly following orders, but I’ll save it for a moment that isn’t quite so . . . hectic.

We back around a corner.

“Stay with Lien,” I snarl at Luka. I’m surprised that he listens. He falls back a couple of steps so he’s shoulder-to-shoulder with her, and I catch a glimpse of Tyrone and Kendra a few steps behind them.

I do a quick assessment of our surroundings, trying to pick a direction. My con’s no help. It’s showing five green triangles clumped together, but no hint of the best route to take.

The Drau surge forward, almost on us.

My blood races, my heart jackhammering in my chest. I have to choose. Right now.

“That way.” I pick a corridor at random. “Go!”

They go.

Taking down as many of the enemy as I can, I back away as I shoot and shoot, my kendo sword held at the ready.

There’s a cry behind me. I don’t dare look back.

“Luka?” I call.

“Lien took a hit to the thigh.”

Damn. “How bad?”

“I’m still standing.” And still sounding bitched out, which at this moment makes me very happy.

The Drau advance as we retreat.

We’re all firing—us, them. Despite their speed, we hold them back, mostly because we’ve moved to a narrowed corridor that isn’t wide enough for them to all come at us at once. But how long can we hold them off? What the hell was the Committee thinking, sending us in here alone?

They push toward us, a wedge driving us apart, me and Luka and Lien into one branching corridor, Tyrone and Kendra into another. We were a unit of five, and now we’re a fractured five.

We don’t stand a chance.

I stomp on that thought like the crawling slug it is. I can’t think like that, not even for a second.

A Drau comes at me, so close I can see the jagged edges of its teeth. Its form is basically humanoid—arms, legs, head, face—but that’s where any similarity to a human ends. It’s a pure, eye-numbing white, the surface of its body polished and smooth, like opaque glass that flows and glides.

It’s beautiful.

And deadly.

A predator that wants to make me its prey.

I almost make the mistake of looking in its eyes, drowning in them, dying in them. At the last second, I jerk my gaze away and hack with my sword at the same time as I fire.