“We don’t have time to move all that. Looks like we’re on foot from here.” Noah marked their location on the map, clenching his jaw. They’d have to drag the type an entire kilometre to get back here once they’d caught it. He hoped whatever research came out of this was worth the effort.
Once they’d helped each other over the rubble, they entered their standard V formation and marched through the torrent of rainfall. Water pelted the glass of Noah’s visor so hard it created a deafening sound.
Two flashes of sudden light illuminated the dark city ahead of them, followed by a roar of thunder.
“Noah? I don’t like this,” shouted Vitt.
The wild wind picked up its speed, throwing numerous cans, boxes and a rogue basketball at them.
“Is this technically a hurricane yet?” asked Habib. “I think we should turn back. If Murphy needs the type this badly, she can come and get it herself.”
Beside them, telephone poles swayed in the wind, wobbling like pins at a bowling alley.
“Wind speed is seventy-two miles per hour,” reported Splat.
“We need to get inside somewhere,” shouted Noah. Water trickled down the back of his neck, making him shiver. “Then we can decide what to do.”
“Incoming!” came a sudden cry. Splat pushed the drone feed onto everyone’s visors. “Two separate clusters. Five and nine o’clock. Orders?”
Noah groaned as his brain absorbed the scene. To their left, four typeAs were jumping out of a smashed, second-story window, pushing and jostling each other. To their right, three others were emerging from behind an upturned car, crouching on hands and knees. Noah swiped at his helmet: the world was increasingly becoming wet blurs of colour.
“Our visibility is too poor,” Noah shouted, then pointed to a crumbling brick wall. “Fall back! Backs to that wall.”
But they were too slow. Both clusters charged through the storm towards them, jumping to unnatural heights and throwing themselves at the squad. Within seconds, Squad E unloaded round after round, taking the roaring storm to a crescendo. Around him, flashes of light and furious screaming and wailing wrapped him in a distorted bubble. Panic pumped through him. Where was Zeke?
He pawed at the screen on his helmet, trying to wipe the rain off, while scanning the backs of his flock’s suits for their names. He found the one he was looking for: Bates. The black Zeke-shaped figure was running off down a side road, chasing after another dark shape—one moving across the tarmac in an inhuman scramble. He charged after him, a stream of expletives running through his head. Why had Zeke chosen now to play the hero? What part of protocol involved running off alone in a storm?
If he’s trying to prove something, that’s on you.
“Zeke!” Noah shouted as he tripped over a reel of rusty wire, catching himself at the last second.
Ahead, Zeke cornered his target against a high, redbrick wall. The typeA turned to face him, slashing the air with its claws. Noah raised his rifle, but there was no way he could shoot it from here, in these conditions, without risking hitting Zeke.
The type shuffled closer, arms outstretched.
Noah fell into the space between two heartbeats. Zeke was about to die, right in front of his eyes.
Flashes of light exploded in front of Zeke.
The typeA dropped to the floor.
Zeke turned to Noah, staring at the firearm in his hands.
He wanted to cheer, wanted to hug Zeke and spin him around. But there was no time for that. He grabbed him roughly by the arm and dragged him away from the type. “We need to get out of this storm. We’re too vulnerable.”
“Fine by me!”
“Forrest, Bates, where are you?” came Habib’s voice through his helmet.
“Barakat! We’re just down a side road. Can’t you see us on the map?”
“The si—” Habib’s voice cut off, replaced by silence. “—and out. Can—”
The connection ended.
Noah pressed the buttons to reconnect. “Walsh? Shun? Bianco?”
The audio feed on Noah’s helmet made a horrifying clicking noise before powering down. Flashing symbols on the side informed him the signal was gone. The drone feed was therefore also down. He used his wristband to switch to the radio setting, but it was no use. That was down, too. They had no tracking, no comms, and no visuals. They were alone.
