Page 53 of Hollow Trace

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.

It carved out a lopsided circle, guns spitting out bullets, chewing a line up the walls and across the plexiglass. The sheer force shattered the glass, pieces spraying out in every direction and raining down on the rocks below. The next rotation punched more holes in that old conduit, a steady stream of water gurgling out a second later as the pipe crumbled. More brass ate up Pryce’s observation room, glass exploding inside, an eerie pop cracking the air.

The drone spiraled, finally crashing into a wall, shattering into a thousand pieces. The air stilled, the lingering reports still bouncing around the room when a metallic groan rattled through the pipe. It shook, a rush of water tearing free, cascading down the wall and across the floor, quickly gaining strength.

Scout rolled out, grabbed Brea’s hand and yanked her to her feet. A mass of white-capped water surged toward them, engulfing everything in its wake, tumbling debris in its frothing gray depths.

Scout pointed to the raised tunnel. “Run. We’ll see if we can out climb it.”

Brea took off, flying faster than Scout had anticipated, her earlier fatigue long gone. She reached the elevated tunnel and jumped, clearing the three-foot incline with ease. Scout raced behind her, palmed the ledge then vaulted in, landing on the slick rock a moment before the first wave rolled past, the thick, undulating water bubbling over the lip.

Scrambling to her feet, Scout wondered if she should try to push her way back to the door and force it open, when an alarm sounded from within Pryce’s broken observation room a second before something blew. The explosion rocked the entire foundation, shaking the tunnel as smoke curled out the broken glass wall, everything inside tossed out in a cloud of dust and vapor.

Pryce screamed, flying over the edge and into the rising water, disappearing beneath the raging surface before bobbing back up. She thrashed against the current, a hard case grasped in her left hand before she finally got her feet underneath her just as the rest of the conduit collapsed, a wall of water gushing out.

Scout turned, sprinted down the tunnel behind Brea, praying it didn’t just dead end, when it opened into another large chamber. The main path continued on with a smaller branch off to the left. Above, a metal hatch had been welded into the ceiling, accessed by an old ladder bolted onto the wall.

Brea hit the ladder and started up, moving quickly. Stopping halfway, she looked back at Scout as Scout swung her rifle across her back and grabbed the first rung. Water rushed past her boots, already calf high and rising as she started up, the cold, slick metal freezing her skin.

Water tugged at her legs, what seemed like an entire mountain’s worth quickly filling the chamber, rising almost as fast as she climbed. She got within a few feet of Brea, when someone screamed.

Scout twisted, looking back toward that main section, gaze locked on Pryce as she was swept along the top of the wave, arms flailing, that case likely dragging her down. The rush angled her toward the ladder, her frantic calls spurring Scout into action.

She climbed down a few rungs, water swirling around her chest, the startling cold stealing her breath. She hooked her elbow around the ladder and stretched out her arm. “Grab my hand.”

Pryce bounced off part of the wall, spinning a few times, one hand waving in the air. She rushed past, the strong current trying to peel Scout away as she lunged forward, switching her grip to just her hand as she grabbed at Pryce, catching the woman’s wrist.

The force tore at her arm, rotating it until she thought it would simply pop out of its socket as Pryce clung to her, still gripping that case with her other hand.

Scout tried to pull her in, only to have a sudden surge drag Pryce back out. “Let go of the damn case and grab my arm. Pull yourself in.”

Pryce shook her head, spitting out water as the torrent curled over her head. “It’s my life’s work. I need it.”

“You’ll be too dead to do anything if you don’t grab my damn wrist.”

“I…”