The Six: Genesis | A Reverse Harem Novel

Twenty-One

"Holy shit! Blue!"

I don't have time to look at Charlie or consider what Gatlin is doing. Crashes and bangs thud behind me, but the machine I'm fighting won't go down. Impatiently, I dig my nails at the base of its skull and rip out components, throwing them down on the ground at its feet. My system is overloading, taking more power than I intended for it to receive.

Red flashes across my vision, blinding me, but I can't let it go—not yet. Gathering all the strength I have, I seal my fingers around the column of its neck and vehemently pull. With a satisfying crunch, the head dislodges and flings across the room. In a broken heap, the machine collapses to the ground.

Sadly, I go down with it. The red in my eyes bleeds further, crackling across my display and shattering it apart. I'm limp, face pressed against the cold floor, begging for my systems to restart.

There's a clicking in the rear of my head as it tries for a second time, but falls. I'm overloaded, filled with enough energy to fry this entire place twice. Gatlin moves to my side, his cerulean eyes narrowed.

"Blue," he reaches out, "what's wrong?"

"D-don't touch me." I hiss.

His hand freezes halfway to me and fists before dropping to his knee.

"Sorry." Clipped and mournful, his tone makes my heart squeeze.

"No," I murmur, shuddering as I suffer another major blow from a failed restart. "Would hurt you."

"Can you move?" He asks.

"She needs to get up, right now!" Charlie's voice comes on the heel of rapid gunfire. I'm not sure where he is, but he's close. "We need to get out of here."

"I can't." I pant, hoping I can move my limbs on my own, but they remain plastered to the ground and useless. "Need more time."

"How much?"

With a crisp jolt, my system cracks to life. A large insignia—Iris' insignia—sits at the center of my gaze, wearing a countdown clock. 30 seconds. 30 seconds before it tries again.

"Less than a minute."

"We need a minute for Blue's system," Gatlin says, staring behind my head. "Keep them back until then."

Zhyv comes into view, standing directly behind him. She's not even winded, though her clothes are torn and dirty. There's not a speck of blood on her.

"The twins are coming. They'll clear the way for a safe escape."

"No!"

They both glance at me, but it doesn't last. A rail-gun drops into Gatlin's hold and he lifts it, sending several shots over me. Terrified, I sputter nonsense and shut my eyes.

"Blue, we need to get you out of here."

15...

14...

13...

12...

11...

"We can't leave yet."

Cursing, Gatlin fires again. "Why?"

"They won't stop coming." I wheeze. "We need to patch the code and roll it out to all the affected assets."

"How do we do that?"

"Do you see the one Darcy caught?"

His gun went up again, firing rapid shots at three separate targets. A quake trembled beneath my fingers, sending a burst of vibrations up my arms and legs. I hadn't considered there being any more levels under us.

"No," he grunts, slinging the gun over his back. He stoops lower and slides his hands under my back and legs to lift me up. "Where are we going?"

"We need to get to the west wing. I need that machine."

Iris' countdown hit zero and my display went completely black. I gasp, sinking my fingers into Gatlin's arm, but he doesn't falter. Slowly, my system restarts. Gradually, my vision is restored.

My head throbs from the pressure, and I blink through the haze as blue lines come into focus. It's a brief re-catalogue of my surroundings, and then it blasts forward to the code I'd been deconstructing earlier. Gatlin is hauling ass.

Above us, the floor caves in, dumping a load of cement and steel over us like hail. Gatlin hunches over me, singularly focused on his goal. Zhyv and her twins lead us down the hall, blowing through the machines with ease I hope I can replicate soon. Charlie follows.

His pace is even, quick, but unhurried. A laugh escapes his lips every so often before the blasting of his gun starts. The cocky bastard is enjoying this.

"Let me down, Gatlin."

His eyes don't meet mine. "No."

"I can run."

"I'm sure you can, but won't you need all the energy you can spare for whatever it is you're going to do?"

His response shuts me up, and I fall back against his chest in silence. He'll need the same. We take the route back to the west wing, barely sliding underneath an onslaught of machines readying to end us. Charlie takes down five, blasting their heads into smithereens with a single shot each.

"I'm nearly out. We gotta move." He shouts, running at full speed to catch up to us.

At last, we round the corner and slip into the doors before they shut again. Zhyv, Gatlin, Charlie and the twins, Don and Vergil, and I are safe—for the time being—but on high alert. I squirm out of his arms, landing heavily on my feet. A heavy crash calls our attention.

The machine held at bay behind a thick sheet of bulletproof glass has changed forms again. Upgrading itself from a three to a five and then to a six. With a battle cry, it raised its arms and broke through the glass, shattering it into a million pieces. Zhyv and the twins take the brunt of it, unbothered by the sharp shards bouncing off them. Charlie takes cover under a desk, but Gatlin and I are exposed.

Shouting, I reach out to move Gatlin out of the way, but I'm too late.

A massive shard catches him in the back, directly across his spinal cord.