The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)(111)

My heart throbbed hard in my chest as I squatted back down, and I had only reached up to wipe off my forehead when footsteps pounded up and three women burst into the room from my door, charging right in. I grabbed my gun, their unexpected appearance shaving seconds off my response time, and then suddenly I was hauled up, and my legs were dangling.

I didn’t bother to try to break the woman’s grip on my vest. Instead, I reached up with one hand and undid the fastener on the side, loosening it and slipping out of it. I went low as I landed, scooping up my gun from where I had dropped it and firing up even as I fell back.

That woman fell as I started to straighten, but another was there in her place, her hand reaching out, grabbing the muzzle of the rifle and giving it a squeeze. The metal compressed under her grip, and she yanked the gun from my fingers and then stepped forward, head-butting me.

I reeled back at the blow to my nose and felt blood dripping down my face. The woman before me let out a throaty scream of victory and then launched herself at me, her arms swinging for me faster than I would have believed possible. I avoided the first blow, but her second one caught me in the side. Luckily, the angle was wrong—her fist glanced off my ribcage, barely two knuckles connecting.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. The pain was immense and immediate, and I dropped down on my hands and knees. The warden’s foot lashed out, kicking me in the same spot, and whatever air I had been able to catch from the kick in the chest earlier was gone again. I gasped on the floor, seeing her foot draw back in my periphery, and I knew if she kicked me again, she would probably kill me.

Instinct made me ignore the pain for long enough to pick my knee off the floor and land a hard kick of my own directly to the joint of her knee, picturing a spot just behind it and aiming for it. I kicked her harder than I thought, and her knee compressed backward. She crumpled immediately with a howl and began rocking back and forth.

She came to a flopping stop as Alejandro pulled the trigger, his face squeezed tight in pain. “Behind you!” he shouted, and I rolled forward, not even bothering to look. A hand clamped down on my ankle and began to squeeze, and I heard Alejandro’s gun click empty. I lashed out with my other foot, trying to break free.

“Got it,” Tim shouted, and a deep, thrumming hum filled the air, followed by a metallic clunking sound. Then I saw the young man turn and shoot the woman who was holding me, using her own pistol. Her grip on my ankle relaxed, and Tim bent over to help me up.

I leaned on him, a little afraid to put any weight on my ankle—it was throbbing so hard.

I tried to straighten, freezing when I saw six more women step in, three from either side. Their eyes quested back and forth, their breath labored and angry, as though there was only one thought in their minds now—destroy the enemy. I sucked in another tight breath, still unable to breathe normally, and just… looked at them. Alejandro shouted a curse and threw his gun at one of the women, but she ducked easily. Tim nervously brandished his gun, his eyes darting around. I could see the calculation in his eyes: he had good reflexes, but even he couldn’t kill all six of them before they were on him.

I watched them approach, and then pressed my fingers together. “We initiated the purge, Ms. Dale. You can turn back. We’re not going to—”

Heavy gunfire tore through the control room, and I ducked as I heard the loud sound of a large-caliber rifle being fired at automatic speeds, pulling Tim along with me. It stopped seconds later, leaving nothing but bloody carnage on the floor.

I peeked my head out and saw Ms. Dale stepping into the room, the massive, blocky weight of a .50 caliber machine gun gripped firmly in both her hands, steam still piping from the front of it. She tossed it to the floor, giving me a stern look. “Of course we’re going to make it,” she said tiredly. “Because we just did. I’m sorry I couldn’t warn you sooner—my microphone got broken, and then things got crazy.”

I turned to look out at the treatment room through the door, and saw the water churning in the vat, the rushing sound growing even louder as the water rapidly drained out.

Lowering myself back to the floor, I rested my head against the console and resisted the urge to laugh in relief. Or sorrow. Or both.

Ms. Dale’s people started to press in and pass through the control room toward the other side of the plant. “Cruz is trying to find a way around,” I told her, and she nodded and began giving orders to her people, sending a couple of them to help.

I watched as she led a group of them out, and then climbed slowly to my feet. My entire side still burned as I tried to move, and I wound up walking slightly stooped over, unable to fully right myself for fear of pulling the severely bruised muscles. If Cruz had our people coming in the other side, I was certain they could handle it. I had bigger concerns at the moment. I hobbled slowly over to Harry, fighting through the pain, and sank to a heavy knee next to him, putting my fingers to his neck. His pulse was still there, but it was weak. A quick check revealed purple splotches on his chest and stomach. I was certain that wasn’t a good sign, but there was nothing I could do for him at the moment.

Standing up slowly, keeping my slightly doubled-over posture, I moved over to Alejandro and Mags, listening to the gunshots filling the air suddenly double. Ms. Dale’s group must have joined the fray with Cruz. I pressed my fingers to Mags’ neck, and found her pulse beating strongly. Peeling back her eyelids, intent on checking her pupils, I found myself doubled over and gasping for breath as she suddenly lashed out with a small fist, not hard, but catching me in the same side the warden had.