"Come on, Montgomery, don't do this to me," Poet muttered.
They were hanging out in the topside shed, waiting for the apocalypse to begin. Allan hovered by the door, not yet opening it, wishing he had a window to look out of. He kept waiting for something to happen, an earthquake maybe, anything to indicate that they had done their job and that Montgomery had held up her end of the bargain.
But there was radio silence from her and anyone on the Special Operations frequency. It was filling the cramped interior of the shed with tension.
"Well, shit," Poet said finally. "I think we might be on our own. Either something's interfering with the radio or...I don't know, maybe our secret is out. Either way, there should have been a noticeable reaction by now. Come on, we need to get moving. She told me the final code, just in case something went wrong."
"I'm ready," Allan replied.
They opened the door and stepped back out into the sunlight, which was now considerably brighter. The city street was much more populated now and for a second, Allan froze, unable to stop staring at the dozens of people coming and going. Even if, somehow, they managed to get some kind of warning out, how many would be left behind? Allan shook his head, making himself focus, tried to make himself forget the horror of what they were doing.
No choice. There was no choice in the matter.
That's what he kept telling himself.
"What's happened to Montgomery?" he asked quietly as they began retracing their steps back to the starport.
"I don't know," Poet muttered. "Maybe bad weather where she is or something in the city is interfering." It sounded like bullshit, but Allan didn't say anything. He just kept walking through the awful sunshine.
They'd made it about a dozen feet when Allan felt something, almost like someone had jabbed an icy needle into the back of his neck and he stopped, turned around and scanned the area. Almost like a Jungian image, what he saw immediately registered to his mind, probably faster than his conscious brain could even realize.
The killer was right here, right now, just across the street.
"Oh fuck me," Allan moaned sickly, his stomach twinging in fear, his entire body going through a shudder like someone had walked over his grave.
Probably because he was staring at his grave right now.
It was eight feet tall and wore black armor.
"Run. Run," Poet snapped.
They ran. Allan didn't look back, he simply started pounding pavement. In his frenzied terror, somehow he remembered the way back to the starport. They'd made it a block when something immense flew directly in front of them. Allan stared in stark disbelief as a car smashed into the building to the right.
"Did he just throw a fucking car at us?!" Allan cried.
"Shit, this isn't working, come on!" Poet snapped.
Allan began to question him, then saw that he was getting into a nearby car still on the road. He tossed one worried glance at the killer, who was now advancing across the street, and almost tore the passenger side door off trying to get in.
"You know these things are hard as a shit to get going if you don't have the ignition sequence, right?" Allan asked.
Poet was working at the control panel built into the dash. "I didn't get into Spec Ops for nothing," he replied. Suddenly, the car kicked to life and he sat up.
YOU ARE READING
The fifth novel in The Shadow Wars. Sergeant Allan Gray has just suffered the worst defeat in his fourteen years as a member of Security-Investigations, a branch of the government that offers protection to both the colonies and isolated outposts of...