The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion #2)(123)

“Yes, Mother.”

It was time to get Torran.





CHAPTER 35


Staggering away from Solomon in shock, Dr. Curran pressed her hands to her sliced throat. Solomon stalked after her, the bloody knife clutched in one hand.

“Evins, no one comes in this room,” Solomon ordered. “Eyes on that door!”

“Yes sir!” Evins swiveled about, set his feet apart, and aimed at the door.

Dr. Curran reached her workstation and her red-stained fingers fumbled across the top as she appeared to search desperately for the vials she’d been meticulously working with all day.

“Save yourself, Beverly. Administer the virus.” Solomon slashed Curran again, this time the dagger slicing into her arm.

“Leave her be!” Torran shouted. Frustrated with his inability to help, Torran pounded on the glass with his fists.

Pointing the bloody blade at him, Solomon said, “You’re as good as dead, so I suggest you shut up unless you want to die now.”

Dr. Curran plucked a vial from the workstation and shoved it into an injector. The cut in her throat was deep, but hadn’t hit the carotid. Nonetheless, she would be dead soon from blood loss. Holding the injector in a trembling hand, she shrank away from Solomon and moved to press it to her arm.

Solomon snatched the injector out of the dying woman’s hand. With a triumphant look, the former chief defender shoved it against her own palm. “Thank you, Dr. Curran. You can die now.”

Unable to speak, Dr. Curran bestowed a hideous, bloody smile at Solomon while pointing at the used injector.

Solomon narrowed her eyes, her gaze flicking between the injector and Curran’s gloating face. Letting out a hiss of pain, Solomon doubled over. Rage flooding her features, she slashed at Dr. Curran, but the scientist shrank into the corner. Tugging another injector out of her pocket, Dr. Curran pressed it against her neck right beside the terrible, gaping wound.

“Evins, you idiot! Solomon is infected,” Torran shouted at the oblivious soldier. “Kill her!

Turning about, Evins stared at the bloody display in front of him, then noticed Solomon was in distress. “Sir?”

Solomon smashed into the counter, her body violently shaking.

Dr. Curran slid along the wall, away from the transforming woman.

With a cry of agony, Solomon started to flail about, knocking over equipment and vials. Befuddled by the events unfolding, Evins hurried over to Solomon.

“What did you do, bitch?” he shouted at Curran.

Unable to answer, Curran shrank away from the armed man.

Solomon raised her head, and snarled, “Kill her!”

Evins lifted his weapon and aimed at Dr. Curran.

Curran froze in place.

“Not her!” Torran shouted at Evins. “Don’t shoot Curran! Kill Solomon! She’s changing into a Scrag!”

Confusion dominated Evins’ face. “What the f*ck is going on?”

Solomon tossed back her head and screamed.

“She’s almost turned!” Torran slapped his hands against the door. “Kill her!”

Evins shifted his gaze from Torran, to Curran, and finally back to Solomon. Hunched over the workstation, Solomon was violently shaking. Then, in a viper-fast movement, she whipped about and screeched.

Raising his weapon, Evins fired at Solomon, but struck her neck. The Scrag surged toward him, knocking his weapon out of his hands as it tried to grab him. The firearm fell to Evins’ side, dangling by the strap. Evins shouted, skidding backward as he tried to evade Solomon’s reach. The weapon caught on the rungs of the chair. Evins dragged it along with him as he yanked on the strap, trying to reclaim his weapon. Solomon was right on him, ripping at his armor with her hands, howling and snapping her teeth at his face. The chair thudded along the floor after them.

“No, no!” Torran exclaimed when he realized where Evins was headed. Not toward the door out of the room, but the containment chamber.

Evins grabbed the door lock, twisted it, and pulled it open as he tried to get inside with Torran. The chair lugging along after him banged loudly into the door, then wedged into the gap.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Evins howled.

Solomon clambered over it and launched herself at Evins.

“You idiot!” Torran lunged forward, grabbed the tab on the strap on Evins’ armor and yanked it free.

Holding Solomon at arm’s length, Evin shouted in fright as the Scrag continued to attack.

Jerking on the strap, Torran tried to get the weapon free of the chair rungs. Realizing it wasn’t going to work, he shoved the chair out of his way and stumbled out into the room. The door to the chamber hissed shut behind him just as Solomon finally sank her teeth into Evins’ face.

A second later, the door to the laboratory flew open. Lindsey rushed into the room trailed by her pet drone. In the hallway behind her was a crowd of Scrags. Kicking the door shut behind her, Lindsey took in the chaos in the room.

“Oh shit,” she muttered.

“Good to see you too,” Torran said, barely able to breathe at the sight of her. Though he had hoped she was somehow alive, the sight of her left him nearly breathless.

“What happened to Dr. Curran?” Lindsey asked, eyeing the bloodied woman.

“Solomon slit her throat,” Torran replied. “But she won’t die. She infected herself with the same virus as you.”