Anse burst into the Church. Grabbed his daughter and crushed her in his arms. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Did they—”
“Action now, apologies and debrief later,” I said, my voice gruff at the sight of the girl in his arms. Safe. “Anse, I need two volunteers to lead two, three-man teams. Team one to hide the bodies for later disposal. Team two to strip the bikes of numbers and trackers and burn them. You and Eloise, figure out whosefingerprint will start the truck and get it out of sight. Follow us when you can.”
“Done.” He tapped his comms and said, “The following people will assemble at my twenty.” He began calling names. I walked for the front doors of the church and looked back once. Blood was on one wall. All the floors. Pain in the ass to clean. No peace left. No . . . solace.
Mateo said, “The pavement sucks. I’m stuck in a hole and losing the drone. It’s nearly out of my range.”
Jolene said, “I’ve taken over the ARVAC, and it’s following the dark riders, but there’s no part ofmeon board the drone, and currently, it’s nearing the edge of my video range. So, while I’ll know where your malefactors are, we won’t have visuals unless you can get your own self unstuck, Mateo, sir.”
Mateo cursed and yelled, as if he’d lifted a car off a dying child. “I’m out of the hole. Moving. Should be inside the drone’s range again in less than a minute.”
I left the church for the parking lot where I said, “Jolene, inform the sergeants they have incoming bad guys. We’re on our way.”
“Roger that, Shining Sugah.”
I tapped my comms to the general channel. “The other half of our enemies are heading for HQ. Those of you not assigned to Anse, follow me. Let’s get back there. Mateo, your drone?”
“Drone is in range. Barely. Closing the distance. They took the turn toward the pawnshop and militia HQ.”
“Move out, people.”
???
Speed was more important than formation, and Bengal and Jagger were out in front. Mina was right behind, bent low overher bike, a blaster in her offhand. Jacopo was to her left and back a few meters. I was on their tail, pulling up the rear. Anse was much slower and had our six. Mateo was somewhere in front of us. Cupcake and her team would be in front of him. We were all armored, helmets up, the faceplates killing bugs and protecting us from the cold wind.
I had considered the probability that the dark riders would go back to Logan to be low. Why would they? What did the city of Logan have that they wanted? Or rather, what did Anse have?
Maybe the riders hadn’t planned it. Maybe they found one of Mina’s explosives, which might explain why they hadn’t blown, and decided that Anse had wired the place. Maybe they were heading to HQ for revenge. Maybe they heard their people dying and decided on retaliation, though military didn’t usually leave their own dying or dead and ride away. They’d have more likely stormed the place hoping to take us all down. Or maybe Mina had messed up wiring the plastics or detonators, though the last war had made sure that was pretty much foolproof. Maybe the dark riders expected their pals to join them after they killed Anse, and they would raid the scrapyard and the pawnshop. It hadn’t happened before, but there could be a first time.
I heard Mina grumbling about the explosives.
A night bug hit my face shield with a splat.
Ahead, a huge boom sounded. A fireball rose into the sky, scarlet and green flames reflected on my face shield, smudged by bug guts. A half second later a shockwave slammed into us. My ears popped, a headache bloomed, even with the helmets.
Cupcake was up there. My nanobots shivered in my bloodstream. I leaned into my bike and gunned it into the middle of the pack. “Cupcake’s in trouble,” I shouted into comms, urging my bike faster. The cracked and potholedpavement had been hazardous in the daylight. It was a real danger at night. I didn’t care. The flames up the road turned neon green. “Activate your armor’s O2,” I shouted again. “The flames are toxic.”
Mina shot out in front a good five kilometers faster than we were going. She buzzed ahead, dodging potholes.
We rounded a curve and took a left. In front of us, Mina drifted hard to the right and came to a stop in front of the box truck from the fuel depot. The scene in front of her was like something out of hell.
The explosion had taken out the truck from the chassis up: the cab, the box part, and anything in it. The tires were melting. The bare trees to either side were black with smoke. The debris field was huge, and we all dodged a truck fender landing in the road as we slowed to a stop. The fire was still a mass of evil flames, red and green and blue flickering with white sparkles.
Cupcake’s quad was in the middle of the road, but Cupcake wasn’t in it. Calling to Jolene to locate her comms, I set the stick and raced in on foot.
In her battlefield voice, Jolene said, “To the left of the ATV. Approximately ten meters from the vehicle. Cupcake is not breathing. Repeat. She isnotbreathing. Pulse is erratic. Have initiated auto lifesaving and triage in her armor and waiting for a lead two. Her breathing tube was not in place, however she was running on enhanced O2.”
Like we had been.
If I remembered from reading the schematics and tech on the armor, a “lead two” meant a certain kind of EKG, a way to test the muscle and electrical activity of the heart. Maybe. I was bloody big on my maybes today.
I spotted Cupcake wrapped around a tree, crumpled awkwardly. I reached her at the same time as Mina. Together we gently repositioned her limbs and then rolled her face-up.Her helmet was on, the faceplate cracked. It took a lot to crack military silk-plaz.
Mina reached for Cupcake’s helmet. She stopped short of hitting the disengage button when Joleen said, “Lead two reveals blunt cardiac injury, or BCI, a common complication after blunt chest trauma. She currently has mild arrhythmia, but this type of injury can lead to severe chamber or valvular rupture, even death. Myocardial infarction is possible.”
I had no idea what that meant, but it sounded bad.
“Patient has taken a breath. Suit readouts suggest multiple broken ribs. Possible lung injury and potential pneumothorax. Current O2 is eighty-nine. Injecting 100 percent O2.”
