The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion #2)(13)

“What does this have to do with us?” Lindsey asked, wishing she didn’t sound so callous.

“He’s heading to the subway station. He’s requesting that the doors be opened.”

“Shit!”

“Lindsey, we’ll have to withdraw our hack from the system if the SWD agree to allow him entry.”

The maintenance cart rumbled up to the station. It was a squat gray vehicle that rode on the tracks. It had enough room for four people and a large tool box. The trio immediately scrambled down the stairs toward it, only Hobbes hesitating to look after her.

Lindsey waved him on.

“Keep me informed. The second Vaja detects the SWD logging into the subway system, tell him to get out. It’ll trap us temporarily, but we’ll deal.”

“You’ll have to proceed on foot if we have to shut down the maintenance cart,” Petra reminded her.

“It’ll be fine.” Lindsey climbed to her feet and shuffled down the stairs. “Just keep me in the loop.”

“Understood.”

Switching back to her squad’s comm line, Lindsey reached the cart and slid onto one of the front seats, adjusting her weapons and cane around her.

“Let’s go,” she said.

Franklin activated the cart, and it barreled down the track toward the outer doors.



*



Torran’s body tensed as he pressed one shoulder into the tree trunk. His mind searched for a viable plan to rescue Goodwin and get them both to safety. With a sick twist of his gut, Torran suspected there wasn’t a way to get to Goodwin without dire risk to himself.

The Scrags – or were they Abscrags? – noisily plunged through the pine trees, screeching as they sought him out.

Goodwin was out of reach and unconscious.

For certain, Alkan was nearby, waiting for him to risk rescuing Goodwin. She had the advantage. Alkan knew where he was hiding, but he still had no idea where she was located.

“It only hurts for a little bit,” Alkan called out.

The screeches of the Scrags were drawing closer.

“Just a bite. Pain. Darkness... then... life.” The woman’s voice sounded frighteningly near.

Daring to take a peek at Goodwin, Torran lifted his weapon, flipped on the scope, and scanned the area. Of course, the Scrags didn’t show up due to their low body temperature. The disc that had incapacitated Goodwin was silent now, it’s energy expended. Torran should be able to pick her up without being electrocuted, too.

Another disc slammed into the trunk a few inches from his head, spurring him to duck. The disc sizzled, arcs of energy crackling around the clawed edges. Alkan was somewhere in front of him, but where?

The noise of the newly made Scrags crashing through the woods was increasing in volume. He didn’t have much time left. Swearing silently, Torran mentally prepared himself for a charge to Goodwin’s unconscious form. He’d probably only have a few seconds to swing her over his shoulders and make a run for it.

The next few seconds were a blur.

Torran was just about to plunge into the open when a disc bounced off his weapon and barely missed his face.

The Abscrag had flanked him.

Alkan charged toward him, firing the electroshock rifle. It was sheer luck when he tripped and fell out of her range. The discs hurtled overhead and vanished into the trees.

A howl of fury echoed through the surrounding area.

Scrambling to his feet, he fired at the Abscrag. Alkan was eerily fast and he only caught a glimpse of her white face, dark hair, and battered uniform. Feet pounding against the uneven forest floor, he headed to where Goodwin had fallen while continuing to fire after Alkan to keep her scrambling for cover.

Torran was almost to Goodwin when he stuttered to a stop, breathing heavily.

A dark shape was bent over her.

The screen from Goodwin’s bracelet came to life, illuminating the face of a man with very dark skin and bright red eyes. He’d peeled off Goodwin’s glove and the motion had activated the wristlet. With a feral grin, he bit into the heel of Goodwin’s hand.

“No!”

It was sheer instinct that prompted Torran to action when he heard the hiss of the electroshock rifle firing. Throwing himself to one side and into the shelter of trees, he heard the discs soar past him. Again he fired at where Alkan had taken cover. The bullets sent the branches of the pines in motion, making it more challenging to discern if Alkan was on the move or not.

Goodwin...

He couldn’t allow her to become a Scrag. The ugly knot in his throat made it hard to breathe. Once again, he was the sole survivor of his squad.

Carefully skirting through the trees, mindful not to make a sound or brush against the branches, he moved to where he could take aim at Reese, the male Abscrag, and Goodwin. To his disgust, Reese was chewing the chunk of flesh he’d torn from Goodwin’s hand while watching the female soldier’s body writhe as the virus took hold.

Rage and grief filled Torran’s gut, making it hard to breathe, but he had to do the right thing.

Torran was about to fire when something moved just out of his periphery. He spun about to see Rosario rushing toward him at top speed. Her helmet was gone and her cheek was gashed open beneath red eyes. Aware of her body armor, he aimed for her face and fired. Rosario’s head snapped back and she tumbled onto the forest floor.

As the transformed SWD soldiers hurtled out of the darkness, a few were downed by the barrage of discs fired by Alkan as she attempted to take advantage of Torran being distracted. Torran sprinted through the woods and past his former squad writhing in the grip of the charge from the discs. The few that Alkan hadn’t hit gave pursuit, screeching.