Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The steel door vanished behind them, Quinn’s voice still sounding from the other side, begging Scout to leave — get Brea to safety — as she shouldered most of Brea’s weight, hauling her down the gloomy tunnel.
No lights, everything burning into black the second the fire door had slammed shut.
She’d flicked on the light on her rifle, still holding it with her left hand as she braced most of Brea’s weight with the other.
Water glistened on the jagged rocks beneath the white glow, an earthy tang saturating the air, irritating the back of her throat with every raspy breath.
The temperature increased as the tunnel angled down, winding back toward the direction of the generator room.
What she hoped would be a quick detour because despite his claim, Scout had a nagging feeling it wasn’t going to be as simple as finding another door.
That something or someone had initiated the second alarm.
Panic flared in her gut, but she tamped it down. Quinn was every bit the warrior Coulter was. Had fought through his fair share of deadly encounters, often alone or with minimal backup. If anyone could face a threat and stumble out the other side still breathing, it was Quinn.
Except where the men he’d be challenging were enhanced, ruthless, with a cult-like loyalty to a man who lacked any form of empathy.
Brea groaned, snapping Scout out of her thoughts. Brea had been dragging since Quinn had shoved them through the door, occasionally grabbing her head and neck as if she was in pain. What might be the drugs finally taking a toll.
All the more reason to get back to Quinn and get the hell out.
The tunnel branched, a narrow, wet passage snaking off toward the center of the mountain. What looked like standing water as far as Scout’s light reached. She chose the larger path, slowing down as it opened ahead, deep shadows encasing a new chamber.
Water dripped in the background, a hint of ozone and antiseptic traveling on a breeze.
She stopped at the entrance, scanning the area before cautiously crossing inside.
On the far side of the enormous room, a metal door gleamed in the lamplight, additional branches tunneling off in different directions, the largest one a few feet off the ground.
Their footsteps echoed in the oversized cavern, drowning out the faint hum of machinery as they plodded toward the door, Scout’s head on a swivel. Despite having bounced her beam over the walls, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched.
They’d gotten halfway across the chamber when Brea cried out.
Grabbing her neck, she fell onto the damp stone, arms and limbs seizing violently before her body went limp.
Scout dropped to one knee, her other boot slipping on the wet muck as she protected Brea’s head, waited for the shaking to stop before grabbing her Maglite out of her pouch, running the beam along Brea’s head, then over her neck.
A slightly raised mass at the top of Brea’s spine and the accompanying red rash laced down her back stopped Scout cold. She ran her fingertips across the lump, cursing when a small capsule shifted beneath her touch.
She clenched the end of the small flashlight in her mouth, using her tactical knife to make a shallow nick above the unit, gently coaxing it out through the slice. She held it up, turning it over in her hands a few times as the truth settled unforgivingly in her gut.
GPS.
Likely injected as soon as they’d kidnapped Brea.
Injected just beneath her skin. Which meant, someone had been tracking them this entire time.
Scout crushed the transmitter with her boot, then removed a roll of gauze from her pouch, wrapping it around Brea’s neck a few times before taping it in place.
Brea’s eyelids fluttered, tremors shaking through her body as she blinked, whispering Scout’s name.
Scout stayed close, allowing Brea to regain a bit of strength before helping her up, and once again shouldering most of her weight.
She took a step, zeroed in on that door with every intention of blasting it open with one of her frags if the damn thing was locked, when a hollow click broke the silence.
Above the door, an amber light flickered to life, flashing in the darkness, each rotation sparking a familiar sense of dread. A single tone echoed off the walls, a deep vibration working up through the stone.
Scout had her rifle notched in her shoulder, the muzzle making a full sweep of the chamber when a blinding white glow illuminated the wall above the door.
A thick panel slowly rose into the stone, revealing one of those pristine glass cubes set directly into the belly of the mine a story above Scout.
A dark silhouette stood facing the chamber, hair pulled back into a severe bun, arms crossed as she studied Scout.
Dr. Emma Pryce.
Scout had Pryce’s head in the crosshairs, finger caressing the trigger, when a heavy metal door slammed down behind her, effectively trapping them inside. Scout didn’t react, continuing to sight the woman through her scope, ready to pull the trigger if she so much as twitched.
A blast of static, then Pryce’s voice over a PA. “Fascinating. A baseline human operating with such efficiency. Perhaps I chose the wrong clientele to conduct my search. I bet you’d put all of my subjects to shame.”
Scout twisted enough to shield Brea from Pryce’s sightline. “Why don’t you come down here and find out for yourself. Or better yet, let us in.”
No reaction. No smile, no hint of amusement, just cold, dead eyes staring down at her.
Pryce cocked her head to the side. “I never intended to have it end like this. Brea’s almost indispensable.
She could have pioneered my research into the next phase, but you and Corporal Taylor just couldn’t let it go.
” She leaned closer to the mic. “I wonder how he’s faring?
I sent Hackett to intercept the three of you once I realized you’d helped my prodigy escape.
Seems Hackett’s not quite as effective as I’d hoped, but then, I doubt big brother will last long. Inferior humans are so delicate.”
Scout’s heart skipped, but she kept it locked down. “I’m betting that includes you, so open the door, and we’ll see which one of us comes out on top.”
“Or, I can put you and Brea through one last test before I sanitize this entire complex.” She grinned. “Can’t have Finch realizing I was experimenting behind his back, especially when I’ll need his money to start over.”
More static, then that same mechanical voice crackling through the PA.
Protocol Zero activated. Thermal purge initiated in T minus twenty minutes.
Pryce lowered to the mic again. “And now, for the added incentive. Give it your all. I want only the best data.”
A distant hum lit the air, gradually growing louder before two drones detached from a wall-mounted bay on the other side of the chamber, hovering in place before turning toward her, twin turrets cycling over, swiveling until they pointed her way.
Red lasers lit up a path through the shadows, the beams zeroing in on Scout’s location.
No other warning, just a stream of rapid-fire strafing across the chamber as Scout hauled ass in the other direction, Brea’s feet barely touching the ground.
Scout dove behind a tilted, rusty ore cart, shoving Brea beneath it.
Bullets sparked off the side of the cart, the drones circling overhead.
Engines whined above them, never-ending rounds chewing up the stone, spraying pulverized rock across their faces.
Scout checked her mag, listening for the change in pitch, then popped out, unloading half her ammunition before ducking under the cart again, cursing as more brass pelted the metal, a couple ricochets hitting far too close to their heads.
The amber light kept rotating while both drones alternated fire, each pass more precise than the last. Scout traded her rifle for her Sig, took a breath then slid out the opposite end of the cart, waiting until one of the machines swooped in to attack before pulling the trigger.
Three shots.
Three hits.
All into the optical sensor of the first drone.
It canted left, flying erratically before smashing into a large conduit running the length of the far wall, bits of metal and plastic impacting the jagged rocks as pieces of the pipe cracked, a finger of water pissing out the hole.
The other drone pivoted, one round hitting her vest, another slicing through her arm before she slipped beneath the cart, waiting through the resulting barrage of gunfire.
Brea grabbed her hand, eyes wide for the first time since they’d pulled her out of her cell. “Let me help.”
Scout covered her head when more bullets pinged off the metal hull, the wound in her arm burning red-hot. “When’s the last time he took you to the range?”
“The day before I got taken. He needed the distraction.”
A kernel of guilt soured Scout’s stomach as she reached for her ankle holster and removed her spare twenty-two.
“I don’t have extra mags, so make every shot count.
” She put her last clip in the Sig. “Stay here. Once I wing this last drone, we’ll make a run for one of the other tunnels. Reassess once we’re safe.”
Brea accepted the weapon, cleared the barrel then chambered a round, looking more than comfortable with it. Scout gulped in a breath, listened for the hum to dull a bit then rolled out, quickly sighting the drone as it turned, a red dot landing on the rock next to her head.
She ignored the first couple shots, the bullets striking close enough she felt their wake as she lined up the machine, firing four consecutive shots. The first missed low, the next three cracked the rotor housing, sending the unit into a violent, erratic tailspin.