Children of Genesis (The Gateway Series Book 1) Page 8

  Impact was undaunted. “I can. Maybe he can use mine.”

  Michael looked to Ace, who nodded immediately.

  “My orders didn’t say anything about keeping you in one piece,” she said, and slapped Impact on the arm. “All right. Lets clear him a path.”

  “Wait,” Michael said, an idea hitting him, one he berated himself for not thinking of sooner. “If you turn friction into speed, and you need more room, maybe we have a path that’s already clear.” He looked up at the roof of the car then back at the others.

  Impact actually smiled. It was a small smile, but there nonetheless. “Even better.”

  They moved to one of the open doors, and Mos leaned against the frame and cupped his hands to give Impact a boost.

  “Up you go, cue ball,” Mos said.

  Before Impact could step into his hand, Michael caught his arm. “Hey, asking you to hurry seems pointless, but…my sister, she…Nikki shouldn’t be alone.”

  He wanted to say more to make them understand, but he couldn’t. She would never forgive him for exposing her weakness to anyone, even someone trying to help her, maybe especially someone trying to help her. So he couldn’t explain how sometimes she woke up at night screaming herself sick. Each time it happened, he would sit beside her and tell her over and over that she wasn’t alone, that he wasn’t going anywhere, and eventually she’d go back to sleep. She never described the dreams, but she didn’t need to. Michael had a pretty good idea. In the morning after one of her episodes, she would act like nothing happened, joking and making fun of Michael, and being all around annoying as usual. They never spoke of it to each other, so there was no way he could speak of it to these people now.

  Instead, he just looked at Impact and willed him to understand.

  For a second, Impact’s eyes softened. He put a hand on Michael’s shoulder and looked at him the way Michael knew he sometimes looked at Nikki.

  “It’s going to be OK,” Impact said, and Michael was struck with another wave of déjà vu. In his mind, he could clearly see a young boy with those same eyes looking down at him and saying the same words. “If she’s alive,” Impact said, his cool gaze locked on Michael’s. “I’ll make sure she stays that way. You have my word.”

  A tiny tingle of energy popped under Michael’s hand on Impact’s arm, like a static shock, surprising them both. Michael let go and flexed his hand before meeting Impact’s gaze one more time.

  Impact turned away. Then Mos hoisted him up and out the door, and he disappeared from sight as he pulled himself onto the roof. They heard his footsteps moving toward the back of the car, and a minute later the incredibly rapid thumps, almost like automatic gunfire, as Impact sped over their car toward the front of the train.

  Just get to her before Savior does, Michael urged. Please.

  Chapter 8

  Nikki

  They were coming for her, just like in the dreams. Shadowy figures were closing in on her, and she had nowhere to go.

  She could hear them moving through the brush on the other side of the fence. Heavy steps trudged through the scrub along the fence line, coming closer to the opening in front of her. A man’s voice cursed a rock that tripped him. A muttered joke came from another. Laughter from multiple voices was cut off by a gruff bark from the first man.

  They were right outside the opening, but she could barely move. She couldn’t fight. She sure as hell couldn’t run. And she couldn’t feel Michael.

  The fear swelling in her gut threatened to overwhelm her, and that just pissed Nikki off. Nothing made her angrier than feeling helpless. She hated it more than she hated anything else she could imagine, and she could imagine of a lot of crap she hated. But even her anger wasn’t enough to topple the swelling fear.

  Her heartbeat was thundering in her ears as she saw the first dark form step in front of the opening. She couldn’t form a rational thought, not when all she could hear in her head was a little girl crying for them to stop. A little girl with her voice.

  “She’s here,” the figure said. Then he stepped through the broken fence out of the shadows of the scrub and into the dying evening light. “Believe it or not she’s alive.”

  He was a soldier, as were the three others stepping through the fence behind him.

  Four of them. Just like before, the little girl in her whispered, but Nikki struggled to push away the dreams and the past and focus on the now.

  They were dressed in dark military fatigues with lightweight black body armor and helmets that left their faces exposed. They were armed with compact automatic weapons that looked like they’d seen recent use. These were not Sky City cops.

  “Jesus,” a shorter one said from the back. “I don’t think she’s going to be giving us any trouble.”

  “Can it,” the one in front barked. From his gruff voice, she recognized him as the one who’d tripped outside. “You saw the vids. You know what this one is capable of.” He stepped a pace to Nikki’s right and trained his gun on her. “Check her.”

  “Yes, sir,” one of the others drawled in a way that made Nikki’s already quavering stomach turn over. The thickest of the four walked toward her.

  “God you’re sick, Nelson,” the short one laughed.

  “Hey, long as she’s got a pulse, it ain’t sick,” the thick one said with a leer as he knelt beside her and set his weapon down.

  His eyes sliding over her fed Nikki’s nausea. “Hunter messed you up, sweetie,” he said, whistling through his teeth. Then he lifted the shredded side of her shirt and looked past the wound under it. “But you still got what counts. You know what they say about arms and legs right, Poole,” he called over his shoulder.

  “I bet you’re going to tell me,” the short one replied.

  “They just get in the way,” the thick one said and gave a huff of a laugh.

  “Touch me, Thickness, and I’ll kill you,” Nikki said, hating her voice for betraying her with a quiver. She wasn’t a little girl anymore, dammit. She was a grown woman who’d torn apart a full riot squad with her bare hands this morning. She’d beaten down everybody who’d tried to take advantage of her for the past six years. Dammit, this wasn’t Chicago. So why are you still shaking! she screamed at the child in her head.

  “Oh ho,” Thickness laughed. “You mean like this?” He shoved a meaty hand through the ragged tears in her shirt and grabbed a breast.

  Nikki swung on instinct, smashing her left fist into his nose. Blinding pain tore across her side and shot a line of fire into her stomach. She cried out and tried to curl up, but that just caused more pain and pushed her nausea over the edge. She retched and gagged, coughing up more blood.

  She heard Thickness cursing her. Then he backhanded her across the jaw, snapping her head around. Nikki’s vision swam, making her surely empty stomach quiver again, but the pain from the blow was nothing compared to what she was already feeling. And somehow the fact that she was causing herself more pain than he could pushed a little of her courage through the fear wall.

  “Enjoy your last seconds, sweetie,” Nikki rasped around a ragged breath, giving Thickness the best stink eye she could.

  He reared back for another blow, a full punch this time, and Nikki wanted to laugh at the fear crumbling away. This was nothing like her nightmares. Nothing like Chicago. This was turning into a fight, and a fight never scared her. Besides, nothing this goon could deal out would even come close to what she’d taken from her brother on occasion. So she just stared at the brute as the blow fell, imagining how she was going to end him.

  The leader caught Thickness’s arm at the last second. “Enough,” he said, lowering the gun in his other hand and hauling Thickness to his feet. “I’ve seen what I needed. Your head’s still attached, so we can handle her.”

  Thickness was glaring daggers at her, but Nikki was throwing them back as best she could.

  “Stow it, Nelson,” the leader barked, shoving Thickness’s arm before releasing it. “Just call it in. Tell them to send out a
stretcher.”

  Thickness wiped blood from his nose and grabbed the mic attached to his shoulder, all the while Nikki was imagining hitting him with every chunk of broken concrete and splintered board she could see around her.

  Thickness’s thumb pressed the mic button—and he dropped. One second he was standing there about to talk. The next he was collapsing like he didn’t have a bone in his body. Then he was lying there in front her, one leg twitching, his fallen helmet rocking back and forth on the rocky ground by her foot.

  “Holy lord,” the short one breathed. “She did it. She killed him with her mind.”

  Holy crap! Nikki thought. I just killed him with my mind! For a ridiculous second, she actually believed herself.

  Then the leader started to shout, “Down! Sni—” but the air went out of him in a rush as he doubled over and dropped to his knees, hard. He started to suck in a wheezing breath, but his head snapped back, and he collapsed in a heap.

  Nikki saw the blood then, and her mind made the more logical connection. Not mind bullets. Bullet bullets.

  The two remaining soldiers realized what was happening when Nikki did. But the realization didn’t save them. Neither did one’s attempt to drop behind the pile of debris under Nikki. A bullet took him in the shoulder just over his armored vest when he was still dropping, spinning him back into the fence. The next took him just below the neck, putting him down. The last soldier, the short one, tried to run back through the gap in the fence, but another silent shot collapsed one leg under him, and he crashed to the ground in the dark scrub outside, cursing. Two more shots stopped his cursing, and this time Nikki heard them—two quick pops, like the valve popping on a CO2 tank at a club, and a rasp and click of metal sliding against metal. The sounds came from right behind her.

  A shadow moved up beside her, and Nikki looked over to see a dark man moving almost silently up between her and the concrete wall in a crouch, the large gun in his hands trained on the fence. Nikki didn’t know much about guns, but this one looked like it meant business, what with its size, the big scope on top, and the last thirty centimeters or so of the business end being a thicker, heavier cylinder.

  Shock, she thought. This must be what people meant when they said you fixated on random details when you went into shock. Another great sign.

  The man stopped beside her, but his focus stayed forward, his eyes scanning the fence and scrub. He was a little shorter than Nikki, maybe. Hard to tell with the crouch. And he was wearing military garb all in blacks and dark greens, with a backpack maybe—again the crouch was confusing things, not to mention the officially setting sun—and a dark, close fitting cap, like maybe a beanie. He also either had some sort of camo paint on his neck or some wicked ink work. The falling darkness was really playing hell with her shock focus.

  She opened her mouth to say something, but his non-trigger hand swung toward her, palm out. He was either telling her to shut it, or he wanted a high five. She hoped it was the shut it. That just made her a little pissed. The thought of trying a high five made her want to cry.

  Then he started talking, to her it seemed, but he was still focused on the fence, poised like he was ready to fire. It was too confusing for Nikki’s brain. Maybe it was the shock again.

  “Ma’am, you’re safe now,” he said, his voice pitched a little too loud considering how close he was, his eyes shifting back and forth across the fence line constantly. “I won’t hurt you. See, I’m putting the gun down.”

  He wasn’t.

  “I’m just going to check your injuries now—”

  Something moved suddenly by the fence opening. The dark man fired three quick shots, the first into the shadow at the opening, the next two into the fence beside it. And something heavy fell in the scrub outside.

  “What jus—” Nikki started to ask, but the hand went up again. She wished she could reach him. A punch right now might be worth the pain. She might even get to pass out from it.

  He moved to the fence line and froze, watching through the opening. He sat there for a while. How long, Nikki wasn’t sure. She was actually starting to drift off to sleep when he finally moved.

  He grabbed the shoulder mic from one of the bodies and pressed the button. “We have her. On the way back,” he growled in an almost passable imitation of the leader’s voice.

  “Copy that,” the mic squawked back.

  The dark man dropped the mic and moved back over to squat next to Nikki.

  “Ma’am, my name is Padre,” he said quietly, swinging the big gun around to hang across his backpack and checking a pistol holstered on his thigh, his eyes moving constantly to scan the area. “I’m here to keep you out of Savior’s hands, if that’s alright with you.”

  Nikki tried to respond, but she couldn’t. The mixture of gratitude for his help and shame at lying there having to be rescued was too much for her to force a word past.

  “Can you tell me your name?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.

  “Nikki,” she forced out.

  “Good,” his eyes roamed the area around them again and came to rest on the thick bastard she’d punched. “I apologize for not stepping in sooner, Nikki. I knew there were five, and I wanted the straggler in my line of fire before I took them.”

  He looked back at her, then reached out and twitched her shirt back over her where her punch had apparently pulled the slashed fabric back to expose half her chest. It was hard to tell in the low light, but she could swear he was blushing a little. The thought made her want to laugh at the absurdity of a man who’d just shot five people blushing at a girl’s boob.

  “Nikki,” he said, meeting her eyes again. “I need to check your injuries. I’m going to have to touch you. Is that OK?”

  Nikki actually felt the laugh bubbling up this time. At least she hoped that was what was coming up.

  “Go nuts,” she said with a weak smile. “Just remember what happened to Handsy McMouthbreather over there.”

  He laughed. It was quiet, but it was a real laugh with a wide smile. He wasn’t the prettiest thing in the world with a plain, nondescript face and a hooked nose as his one remarkable feature, but the smile made all the difference. Laughing at her joke didn’t hurt either. Nobody appreciated her sense of humor.

  He started with her head, his hands moving across her scalp and neck, pressing lightly, checking for gaping holes or breaks maybe. Then he pulled a small light from somewhere and made her follow it with her eyes. Nikki wasn’t sure, but she didn’t think he seemed pleased with the results.

  “Padre is a weird name,” she said as the light clicked off and he stowed it. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” he said with a small smile as he scanned their surroundings and then resumed his check, his hands moving quickly and professionally over her shoulders and arms. “It’s a call sign. My real name is Sam. Sam Lee.”

  “Sam Sam is weird too, but whatever,” she said, her smile a little stronger.

  He laughed quietly again but resumed his professional mask as he checked her chest and stomach. She would bet money the blush was back, but she couldn’t tell anymore with the crappy light. His eyes cut over to the dark blood she’d hurled up after he found all the painful spots in her midsection, and she saw his forehead crease for a second.

  “You act like a soldier, Sam Sam,” she went on. “But you had to be a kid when the all that crap got shut down. They start em that young where you’re from?” Maybe blabbering was another sign of shock. That or she just wanted to make him as uncomfortable as she could. Revealing embarrassment in front of Nikki was like bleeding in front of a shark. She couldn’t resist jumping on it.

  “Canadian Armed Forces. I was a light infantry sniper,” he said.

  “Canadian, eh?”

  He laughed again. She was starting to like this guy.

  “From Arizona, actually,” he said. His hands moved across her legs, checking the bones and asking if different places hurt. “I moved to Canada to live with my grandparents after
my dad died.”

  “Ow! Shit!”

  “Sorry.”

  “Why couldn’t you have gone to medical school up there?” she groaned. “My night would be going so much better right now.”

  “If you say so,” Sam said, giving the shadowy mounds around them a significant glance. “Military just made sense for me. I grew up learning the skills from my dad and grandfather. My dad was a scout sniper too, in the U.S. Marines, and my grandfather was with the Shadow Wolves.”

  “Shadow Wolves? What were they, like the Black Panthers? You must be proud.”

  Just a smile this time. Maybe she was wearing him down.

  “Border patrol in Arizona, before E-Day obviously. Only those with tribal ancestry could join. Tohono O’odham, Blackfeet, Yaqui, a few others. My grandfather was Blackfeet.”

  She wanted to make some kind of grammar/racial joke there, but as soon as her mind started to put one together, a jolt of pain as Sam reached her left calf flushed the thought right out of her head.

  Sam settled back and looked up at her, nodding his head to his thoughts.

  “Well, what’s the verdict?” she asked, not sure she really wanted to know. The pain was enough to deal with. She didn’t really need ugly facts to make it worse. “Will I be able to play the piano after this, Doc?”

  He laughed quietly again, eyes scanning around. Then he met her gaze. “Only if you could before.”

  Yep, she liked this guy. In her vulnerable state, she’d hit him with the worst of her humor, and he’d appreciated every bit of it. She wasn’t used to that. High-brow people like Sam and she were rare.

  “The good news is you don’t have anything broken that isn’t obvious. Just the leg and ribs,” he said. “And the leg is a nice, clean break.”

  “And the bad?” she asked, noticing the muddled sound of her voice for the first time.

  He didn’t hesitate at all, just nodded and went on. She liked that he wasn’t hiding things or sugar coating. “You have internal bleeding and what could be some serious organ damage. The color of that blood says liver to me. That means you need more help than I can give. And you need it soon.”