Resonance 4th Edits - Bleeding Worlds Bk 3 (15 page)

Fuyuko coughed on the dust, spitting some out of her mouth.

“That was stupid,” Jason said, extending his hand to help her up.

She didn’t take it, rising to her feet on her own and brushing the worst of the dust away from her face and torso—she didn’t feel like eating any more of it.

“Maybe,” she said, “but if it works, you’ll think I’m brilliant.”

Jason shook his head.

“No. Courageous. Determined even. But it was too dangerous to be brilliant.”

She punched his shoulder, hard. He winced. She’d probably hit him in a bruise he hadn’t been able to heal—she didn’t feel even a hint of guilt.

“Who has their knives?” she asked.

Three came forward. They moved to the door and drove the knives into the steel.

“Graphene combat knives,” Fuyuko answered Jason’s bewildered look. “It’s too much to explain. But the knives are not only incredibly sharp and strong, they also have a battery in the hilt that supplies heat to the blade. The graphene is amazing at conducting heat, so it makes cutting anything like going through hot butter. Even steel doors.”

“Now,” she said to the others, “pull!”

The door shifted. Inch by agonizing inch, they pulled it back.

“Holy shit,” Jason said.

“Stop.”

Fuyuko moved away from the handle of her knife and looked out the six inch gap they’d made.

“Oh no.”

Popping and sizzling wires jumped across the floor, trying to leap back to their home in the shattered ceiling.

Concrete projectiles had chipped away at every surface. In the center of the chaos, several vehicles still burned and smoked.

“Sparx,” Fuyuko called.

“Get down!”

Jason tackled her away from the opening, groaning as he did so. Marks and Toms crowded into the space, squeezing off short bursts from their rifles.

Fuyuko rolled Jason away from her. He clutched at his shoulder, where blood seeped between his fingers. She looked back to the entrance and saw a splay of blood across the wall.

She pulled her knife and cut away his shirt.

“The bullet went through,” she said.

Jason didn’t seem to care.

Stats came up beside her with a small first aid kit.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said to Fuyuko. “We don’t have much of a kit.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just give me a couple of compression bandages and some gauze.”

She pressed the bandages down on the wounds. Jason groaned and grit his teeth. She wrapped the shoulder in gauze, holding the bandages tight.

“Marks, what’s our situation?” Fuyuko asked.

“One shooter, eliminated. There hasn’t been any other fire since then.”

She nodded.

“Good. You and Toms keep covering out there. The rest of you,” she waved the others forward, “get this door open.”

The others pulled the door open another two feet—enough for them all to squeeze through.

“Can you walk?” Fuyuko asked Jason.

“I think so.”

He used her as support for getting up. As he let go of her shoulder, she had to dash forward to catch him before he collapsed to the ground.

“Sorry.” His breath came in pants. “I got wobbly there.”

Blood already seeped through the bandages.

“Just put your damn arm around me.”

She turned sideways, guiding him through the gap behind the rest of her team who were covering all directions with their rifles.

“Stats, Marks, go check near the vans. I sent Sparx and some others to secure them earlier.”

The two men panned their rifles left and right as they advanced toward the burning wrecks.

When they crouched near the vans, their rifles dropped. So did Fuyuko’s heart.
 

She’d lost them all.

“I think they were trying to disarm something under the vans,” Marks said, returning to the group. “Bastards probably detonated them remotely.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Fuyuko said. “Kill anyone who gets in our way.”

They made their way up four floors of the underground parking garage. At the top level, metal gates had been lowered barring the exit or entrance, of any vehicles. A pedestrian door to the left of the metal grates looked to be the only exit.

“Check it before you open it,” Fuyuko cautioned. “They could have it wired with explosives—Anubis seems fond of those.”

Marks slung his rifle over his shoulder and clicked on a flashlight. He ran the beam over every seam and the walls beside the door.

“I don’t see any wires,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean they couldn’t have something wired on the outside.”

“Or a bunch of men with guns,” Toms offered.

“Always the optimist, aren’t you?”

Toms shrugged.

“I’ve always thought of myself as more of a realist than an optimist.”

“I’m glad the two of you are still capable of joking,” Fuyuko said, “but that still doesn’t solve our problem of getting out of here.”

Jason sagged against her. She jolted him, keeping his eyes open, but glassy. If they could just get out the door before he lost consciousness, he’d be able to heal the wound with the power of the Veil. If there was just a way to push open the door from a distance…

“There,” she said, “the sprinkler pipes in the ceiling. Cut a length down, and we’ll use it as a pole to push the door open from a distance.”

Two of her team found a long run of pipe and cut it at either end. Water gushed down in a waterfall, running down the floor, seeking the dip that would lead to the levels below.

They stood at the end of the pipe and pressed it against the crash bar of the door.

It flew from their hands as another explosion ripped through the garage, blowing the door from its hinges and tearing through the metal of the first car port door.

The shockwave knocked them off their feet. Bits of metal tore through some of their clothes, leaving bloodied cuts and bruises, but no one had died.

Marks and Toms had their rifles at the ready, approaching the remains of the door at a slow and even pace. They took a position on either side. Marks peered around the corner, his rifle muzzle positioned to fire at anyone on the other side.

He waved the others over and plunged out the hole into the morning dawn.

Fuyuko wasn’t far behind. Jason seemed to be fading with each moment. As soon as she’d cleared the building, she felt the weight of the Prometheus Circle lift.

They were on an incline rising from the lower entrance of the parking garage to the ground level streets above.

Marks had proceeded up the ramp, keeping low and alert.

Fuyuko propped Jason against the concrete wall running along the sides of the incline. His head lolled to the side. She shook him, yelled at him. Then, she slapped him.

“I…” he tried to say.

“Shut up. We’re out. You have the Veil now, use it. And don’t go slow, pull what you need and do it fast.”

His eyes were cloudy and confused.

“The Veil, Jason. Tear it open to heal yourself.”

She slapped him again. It seemed the best way to keep him awake. She wouldn’t confess it, but part of her felt satisfaction in it as well.

Finally, she felt the tiniest tear in the Veil. As Jason’s eyes cleared, the tear increased, the trickle of Veil energy became a torrent, flooding his system.

He flexed his left arm and rotated it at the shoulder.

“Feels a lot better,” he said.

He stood up. Fuyuko propped him up when his legs began to wobble.

“You might be able to heal your wounds with the Veil, but you still lost a lot of blood. Don’t try to run any marathons for a bit.”

“Right.”

Stats and Toms had joined Marks near the top of the incline, panning the street.

“We look clear, sir,” Marks reported.

“Any vehicles we can use?” Fuyuko asked.

Toms nodded.

“I’ve got eyes on two SUVs in a lot across the street,” he said.

“You and Stats go get them. The rest of you, give them cover. Everyone, use the Veil sparingly and heal any wounds or pains that are causing you a problem. We’re not out of this until we’re on our plane over the ocean, clear?”

Jason let his weight sag against the wall.

“Go on,” he said. “I’ve got the wall to keep me up. Go see to your people for a bit. Make sure we’ve got wheels to get out of here.”

She moved up to the rest of the group.

“Captain,” one of them said, “you seem to know the prisoner.”

Prisoner. She’d almost forgotten, having him lean against her. Being close, not wanting him to die, it felt more like the years before. He’d even taken a bullet for her.

She nodded.

“He and I served in Suture together before the Cataclysm. We were…friends. But that was a different life. My concern now is to get us home and to deliver him to Quetzalcoatl so at least we have something to show for all our losses.”

And to make sure Quetzalcoatl tears that jackal head right off Anubis’ shoulders.

The sound of approaching engines tore her from the satisfying vision of Anubis’ bloodied neck stump.

“Unfriendlies approaching in vans from the south,” Marks reported.

Fuyuko put her hand gently on his shoulder, preventing him from charging out into the street.

“I’ve got this,” she said.

She was tired, filled with sorrow for the lost lives of her team, and almost angrier than her last moments in Suture. The Veil seemed to scream at the violence with which she tore it open.

Fimbulvetr.

The reassuring coldness beneath her fingers vibrated.

Yes,
she thought,
you are my heart.
You’re just as thirsty for vengeance as I am.

Fuyuko slashed upward at the air in front of her. A wave of frozen stalagmites erupted from the ground, smashing into the front and undercarriage of the approaching vans, throwing them up over their rear ends and onto their roofs. Another wave of her spear and the stalagmites shattered, sending millions of icy daggers into the vehicles. Screams of pain and terror were soon silenced as the two vans exploded.

She moved her head side to side, stretching her neck, and rotated her shoulders back. A hundred feet in front of her, gas burned hot, but she felt none of its warmth—only cold satisfaction.

The two SUVs pulled out from the lot beside her.

“Everyone aboard,” she ordered.

Jason stumbled slowly up the incline.

“Jason,” she said, “you ride in the front SUV. Marks, you too. Keep an eye on him.”

“What about you, sir?” Marks asked.

“I’m going to be covering the rear. Get to it.”

She caught a glimpse of Jason’s expression as he regarded her handiwork—
he finally understands how I’ve changed.

With everyone on board, the SUVs took off toward the Alexandria International Airport.

Fuyuko pulled out her cell and tried the extraction team number again.

This time, the phone displayed it had a signal. She waited while it routed through the satellites.

After a few seconds of silence, the phone on the other end rang.

And rang.

And rang again.

By the seventh ring, her heart started racing.

With the tenth, she felt ready to vomit.

I waited too long.

The orange glow on the horizon hinted at the pending dawn.

Soft knocking sounded at the cabin’s front door.

Gwynn stood from the table where he’d sat the better part of the night, and opened the door.

Adrastia had abandoned her typical black dress and white Victorian blouse, and traded it for simple robes and a scarf covering her hair.

“Good morning,” she said. “I brought a change of clothes for you. That is…if you’ve decided to come.”

Gwynn nodded and extended his arm to take the bundle. They were robes similar to Adrastia’s, with the addition of some loose cotton pants and a head scarf.

“Where exactly are we going?” he asked.

“Back to your home world—Midgard I believe those in the know call it. Specifically, we’ll be going to the nation of Iraq. With my powers, I could easily have us go unnoticed, but it’s less taxing to conceal two people who mostly blend in. Hence the clothes.”

Gwynn stepped inside the house behind the door and changed.

“It’s actually pretty comfortable,” he said.

Adrastia smiled.

“I’m glad. Did you need to say any goodbyes before we go?”

Gwynn shook his head.

“No. We said what needed to be said last night. I think Sophia knows it would be harder for me to go if I had to say goodbye.”

Her smile widened.

“I’m glad. Even if things have changed, at least that’s still the same—you never could be far from her.”

“And yet I still let Cain—”

She rushed forward and pressed her finger against his lips.

“Don’t…Don’t ever blame yourself for a reality that doesn’t exist anymore. Even then, my father didn’t fail her. Some things happen, no matter how hard we try to stop them or stay safe from their influence.”

She reached out and took his left hand, pulling him forward.

“Leave your dark mood behind for a little while,” she said. “I’ve waited ten millennia to walk hand and hand with my father again. Even if you’re not
exactly
him, you’re as close as anything I have.”

Gwynn squeezed her hand.

“You sound almost like Pridament.”

She stepped up on her tiptoes and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“We’ve both adopted you to fill our loss.” She gave him a playful wink. “I hope that’s not too much pressure.”

Gwynn laughed.

“No, none at all. What would make you think something like that would put pressure on me?”

They descended the slope toward the open fields The long grass shone gold in the rising sun’s rays and swayed lazily in the breeze.

Twenty feet from the foot of the hill, they passed through the ward barriers.

“Does folding still make you vomit?” Adrastia asked.

“If I recall,” Gwynn said, “there was only the one time. And it was my first—can you blame me?”

Adrastia shrugged.

“I suppose not. It’s just, I went to some trouble getting these clothes to make things easier for me. It’ll be for nothing if I have to mask a big stain of sick on my thawb.”