The Flight of the Silvers (Silvers #1)(70)
Suddenly a pair of radiant orbs materialized in front of the woman’s eyes. She covered her face just as a piercing electronic squeal—an echo of the feedback that had blared from all speakers a minute ago—erupted inside her ears. She fell to the ground screaming.
By the time Mia dared to open her eyes, David faced her through the broken door. He pointed to a metal prod hanging on the wall.
“Can I have that, please?”
“What?”
“The baton, Mia. The zapper. I need it. Quickly.”
With shaking hands, Mia tossed the weapon to David. He studied every side of it until he found the power switch. Now he jabbed the electric end at the back of the Winter Blonde’s head. She shrieked again, then fell silent.
Mia stared at David, dumbfounded. “She was going to kill me.”
“I know. I saw. Listen to me—”
“She was going to kill me!”
David grabbed her shoulder. “Mia, I know you’re upset but you have to pull it together. Please. We’re not safe yet.”
Krista Bloom. Her name was Krista Bloom. Mia recalled the note now. Too little, too late. She remembered a few other things as well.
“Oh no! Zack!”
She spun around to the monitors, only to find that her view of the upstairs hallway had gone dark. The cameras had been shot and killed by a very dangerous man.
—
Theo slid down the blood-flecked wall. He couldn’t help but wonder if his latest move had been a first attempt at heroics or merely a second try at suicide.
In either case, he knew he’d failed. A last-second twitch had thrust a less vital piece of himself into the path of the bullet. It cut a nasty gash across his arm, slicing the skin before piercing the wall. As he examined the mess below his T-shirt sleeve, his legs gave out and he slumped to the floor.
While keeping Zack pinned to the elevator, Rebel turned to look at Theo. Something had gone wrong. He’d foreseen the bullet’s entire journey before pulling the trigger. In his thoughts, he watched it go right through Theo’s heart.
Perplexed, Rebel re-aimed his weapon at Theo. Once again he took a glimpse into the immediate future, checking to see if his shot would connect.
The vision he received, though accurate, was not good news at all.
“No!”
He had just enough time to face Zack, right as the cartoonist rediscovered his weirdness.
Suddenly Rebel’s gun flared with cool white light. A thousand needles of pain covered every corner of his hand. Bellowing, he dropped his gun and hostage.
Zack stumbled backward, startled by his results. He’d focused his thoughts on rusting Rebel’s weapon. Now the revolver lay on the ground, nine weeks older but still very functional. Rebel’s hand, however, had become a gruesome horror. The skin was white and bloodless, with scaly splotches of rot. His fingernails had turned a gangrenous black.
He lashed out with his good arm, striking Zack in the jaw and knocking him down to the carpet. Rebel stooped to reclaim his gun from the floor, testing its weight and feel in his left hand.
“Son of a bitch.” He groaned as a new wave of pain overtook him. “I swear to God, if this kills me—”
Rebel’s eyes suddenly rolled back in his head. He shuddered violently in place before crumpling to the floor.
Eight feet behind him, Amanda kept an anxious vigil from the stairway landing. Zack dazedly blinked at the peculiar little device she continued to aim at Rebel.
“What . . . what is that?”
She looked down at the electron chaser in her quivering hands.
“I don’t know.”
—
She’d gone downstairs in search of Hannah and found Czerny instead.
The physicist lay on the stairwell, holding his bunched shirt to his stomach. His skin was pale, his breathing labored. He was lucid enough to tell Amanda which medical supplies could be found in which cabinets.
“Be careful,” he wheezed. “There are still intruders.”
The only stranger Amanda encountered in her trip to the medical lab was the man in the Teddy Roosevelt mask. He lay unmoving at the foot of the reception desk, a terrifying sight with his eerie rubber grin. Worse, Amanda could sense a familiar energy coursing inside him. He had the same beast as her. The tempis. From Czerny’s grievous wound, it was clear how he enjoyed using it.
The moment she returned to Czerny’s side, Mia’s frightened voice filled every speaker in the building, warning Zack of an impending ambush.
Amanda covered her mouth. “Oh my God. Zack . . .”
“Where is he?” Czerny asked.
“I don’t know. I went back to my room to get dressed. By the time I came out, he was gone.”
They heard the sounds of struggle upstairs, followed by two loud gunshots.
Czerny thought of Beatrice, then fumbled for the chaser with a bloody hand. He thrust the weapon in Amanda’s grip.
“Go help them,” he implored her. “Please.”
She did.
Amanda had no idea how long she stood in the hallway, aiming the chaser at the twitching man on the floor. Once her gaze fell to Theo, her nurse’s mind took over.
He watched her anxiously as she examined his wound. “How bad is it?”
“You need stitches.” She turned around. “Zack . . .”
The cartoonist climbed back to his feet, fixing his shell-shocked gaze on Rebel’s rotted hand.