Origin (Lux #4)(64)
Once the landing was clear, Daemon dragged two of the unconscious men to the door, stacking them atop each other.
“Come on,” Archer urged as he rounded the landing, shedding the long-sleeve camo top. He reached to his neck, tucking dog tags under his white shirt.
With all the onyx and diamond in the building, I was pretty useless without my gun and Taser. The muscles in my legs were starting to burn, but I ignored them and pushed on.
When we reached ground level, Archer looked over his shoulder at us. He didn’t speak out loud, and the message was directed at both of us. We don’t try to take any vehicles from the hangar. Once outside, we’ll be faster than anything they have. We head south toward Vegas, on Great Basin Highway. If we get separated, we meet at Ash Springs. That’s about eighty miles from here.
Eighty miles?
There’s a hotel called The Springs. It’s used to having weird people show up. While I wondered what kind of weird people, and realized that was a stupid thing to even be thinking about, Archer reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wallet. He shoved cash in Daemon’s hand. This should be enough.
Daemon nodded curtly, and then Archer looked at me. “Ready?”
“Yes,” I croaked, my fingers tightening around the guns.
With fear so thick I could taste its bitter tang, I took a deep breath and nodded again, mostly for my own benefit.
The door opened, and for the first time in what had to be months, I breathed in fresh air from the outside. Dry but clean air, not manufactured. Hope bubbled up, giving me the strength to power forward. I could see a slice of sky beyond the vehicles, the color of dusk, pale blue and orange-red. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Freedom was right there.
But between us and freedom was a small army of soldiers. Not as many as I’d expected, but I assumed that a lot were still underground, dealing with the origins.
Daemon and Archer wasted no time engaging. Bursts of white light lit up the hangar, ricocheting off tan Humvees, tearing through canvas. Sparks flew. Punches were thrown in close combat. I did my part—Tasing anyone I could get close to.
As I darted around the fallen bodies, I spied an artillery load in the back of a flatbed truck. “Daemon!”
He twisted around and saw what I was pointing at. I took off, narrowly avoiding being tackled. I turned, squeezing off another round. Metal prongs dug into the back of the soldier. Bright white light tinged in red crackled over Daemon’s shoulders, wrapping around his right arm. Energy pulsed, arcing over the space between him and the truck.
Seeing what he was about to do, several soldiers ran, taking cover behind the large Humvees. I did the same, heading for a row of vehicles as Daemon hit the back of the truck, and it went up like the Fourth of July. The explosion rocked through the hangar, a powerful wave that shook my insides and knocked me flat on my butt. Thick gray smoke billowed through the enclosure. In an instant, I lost sight of Daemon and Archer. Over the popping explosions, I thought I heard Sergeant Dasher.
I was stunned into immobility for a second, blinking out the acrid stench of burning metal and gunpowder. A second was all it took.
Out of the heavy smoke, a soldier appeared. I sat up, whipping the stun gun around.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he said, catching my arm in both hands, above my elbow and below, and twisting.
Pain shot up my arm and burst along my shoulders. I held on, rolling my body so that I broke the brutal hold. The soldier was trained, and even with all the work Daedalus had put into training me, I was no match. He caught my arm again, the pain sharper and more intense. I dropped the stun gun, and the soldier landed a stinging blow across my cheek.
I don’t know what happened next. The other gun was in my left hand. My ears were ringing. Smoke burned my eyes. My brain had clicked into survival mode. I fired the gun. Warm liquid sprayed me across the face.
With the gun being in my left hand, my aim was slightly off. I hit him in the left side of his chest. I wasn’t even sure what part of him I was aiming at, but I hit him. There was a gurgling sound that I found so strange, because I could hear it over the yelling, over the screaming, and over the shells still going off. Nausea rolled up my stomach.
A hand landed on my shoulder.
Screaming, I whirled and came within two seconds of offing Daemon. My heart almost stopped. “Dammit. You scared the crap out of me.”
“You were supposed to stay with me, Kitten. That wasn’t staying with me.”
Sending him a look, I edged around the back of a Humvee. The encroaching night sky beckoned us like a siren. Archer was a few Humvees down. He caught sight of us, looked at the opening, and nodded.
“Wait,” Daemon said.
Dasher appeared out one of the doors, surrounded by guards. His usually neat hair was a mess. His uniform was wrinkled. He was scanning the strewn debris, issuing orders I couldn’t make sense of.
Daemon looked up, his gaze tracking the floodlights. A half grin appeared, and he caught my stare, winking. “Follow me.”
We backtracked, creeping along the side of the Humvee. Peering out around the scorched canvas, I saw the coast was clear. Hurrying down the row of vehicles, Daemon stopped in front of a metal pole that rose to the ceiling.
When he placed his hands on the beam, the Source flared from his fingertips. A wave of light rolled up the pole and spread out across the ceiling. Lightbulbs blew, one after another, stretching the length of the hangar, plunging the room into near darkness.