“What the bloody hell does all that mean?” I ground out.
“Heart damage. Collapsed lung,” Mina said, “with an air pocket between the lung and the lining of the lung. She isn’t getting enough oxygen. But we can’t touch her.” Mina dropped her hands.
Anse came over comms. “We have a battlefield med-bay in the back of the box truck, suitable for triage and stabilization. Eloise and I are on the way. Keep her alive.”
“Copy that,” I said. The words were ragged.
Cupcake would likely have a right thumbprint showing, out of the armor for activating biomarkers. I stripped off my glove and gently turned her right hand. Broken bones ground. I pressed my thumb to hers and shoved with my nanobots, pushing them through my skin, into her, thinking, “Fix her. Fix her now.”
I could feel the evil little buggers leaving my skin and crawling into hers.
“What the fuck?” Mina said, making it a question.
Cupcake’s mouth moved.
I laughed when I realized she was mouthing, “Don’t say fuck.” I shoved harder on the nanos, sending them into my friend’s system.
Amos landed beside me. Jacopo and Bengal were providing cover. I’d had my back to the scene and hadn’t even noticed. I glanced over my shoulder to see Jagger approaching Cupcake’s quad.
“Baby?” Amos said, his hand poised to touch her, but not daring to.
“Amos,” Jolene said, the AI’s voice gentle and Southern in her concern. “She is breathin’ and her heart’s beatin’. She jist needs a little tune up.”
He breathed out, the tissues in his chest making a juddering sound.
“Where’s Mateo,” I asked.
“Flippin’ out. I sent him on past and after the drone. He was useless here, better at fightin’. He likes Cupcake.”
“Everyone likes Cupcake,” I said. “Jagger. Will you, Mina, Bengal, and Jacopo chase the bad guys and protect Anse’s people from whatever they’re planning to do?”
Bengal said, “I’m staying right here. Backup is handy. Plus, my bot-arm can help move her to the med-bay.”
Jagger said, “Roger that.” He touched my shoulder for two seconds and then was gone. I lost track of time, feeling Cupcake’s breathing and her heart beating through our joined nanos and thumbs, until the rumble of a truck pulled me out of my attachment to Cupcake’s physiology.
Then I let the others take over giving orders and watched them carry her to the confiscated box truck, following behind like a lost child. I’d never had a friend before. Cupcake . . . Cupcake was my friend.
The triage med-bay was the same kind I had at the roadhouse. I helped them with the settings on the med-bay andwatched as the clear lid came down over her and the med-bay began assessing her and removing her armor piece by piece.
“Amos,” I said. “You stay with Anse and Cupcake. Keep everyone safe. Bengal, with me. We’ll take care of stopping the dark riders.”
Without taking his eyes off the cover that was blurring with meds and for privacy, Amos pulled a sheathed knife and extended it hilt first. “Kill one for me.”
I laughed and the sound was oddly like sobs. “Promise.” I took the hilt and stuck the blade into the weapon belt at my waist. “Do me a favor. Put my bike in the truck. I’m taking Cupcake’s weapon.”
Amos made a huffing sound. “Meatchopper ’em to hamburger and then feed ’em to the cats.”
Sounded like a good idea. Leaving the three and enough weapons to kill all attackers, I left the box truck and pressed the quad’s starter. We had changed out the biomarker starter for an older model start. The engine started up instantly. With the engine rumbling, I checked out the weapons and rearranged the tombstone boxes of ammo. I climbed into the driver’s seat and put the quad into gear. Overheated tires spun. I steered past the burning truck, seeing two bikes, also burning. Cupcake had taken down two riders, the driver, and the person riding shotgun. Four down. “That’s my girl,” I murmured.
Bengal’s bike rumbled next to my quad. I steered up the street, glad we had removed the speed governor. I got the quad up to thirty-nine kilometers. Too fast for the engine and the conditions. I glanced at Bengal. He still had his mega MPP on his bike, but he’d done something to the way it was attached to the bike’s frame. I grinned with understanding and a lot of relief. He could pick up the gun and the mounting and stick the base in a small hole in the ground. With his cybot arm, he could fire like a small tank. Taking recoil like it was nothing.
Returning my gaze to the road, I listened to comms. The sergeants had come under fire. They had chosen excellent firing positions, but no dark riders were down. The woman, call name CanCan, had taken two hits. She was bleeding out. Her co-sergeant was pinned down and couldn’t come to medical aid.
Jacopo said, “Have circled around. Mina fired and one fell. Five to go. I am approaching CanCan. Will stabilize and move into the field. Try not to shoot me. I don’t want to go by friendly fire.”
“Roger that,” I said. “Bengal and I are two clicks out.”
Mateo said, “I’m coming up the center of the road. Will concentrate fire to pin them down.”
