The Burn Zone (51 page)

My fingers moved to the buckle of my belt, and threaded the cloth band back through as I raised one leg. My foot came down on the edge of the desktop and I hoisted myself up, taking a single running step down the too-short runway before launching myself off the opposite edge and springing into the air toward him.

He heard me too late, only just starting to turn as I came down hard onto his shoulders. My crotch pressed onto the back of his neck as I locked my legs under his arms and whipped my belt free from my pant loops.

He grunted, trying to reach into his coat for his gun, but my legs were strong and I kept his arms pinned back as I wrapped the belt around his neck and pulled. The room spun around me as he thrashed like a mechanical bull, trying to shake me off as I tightened the noose. The belt dug into the flesh of his neck just below his jawline, and when I looked down at him from above I saw his big eyes bugging out of his blood-filled face like
veiny
marbles. His mouth worked, unhinging as his tongue formed a purple peak.

His legs gave out and he dropped, stumbling back and then crashing sideways into the desk. My ribs struck the edge hard enough to knock me off his shoulders, but I held on to the belt, rolling and twisting my body around
to form a tourniquet with it. His big hands groped, managing to get a hold of the band around his throat, but he was weakening. He gave up, and one hand
drifted down over his chest to reach for the gun whose grip was sticking out from a shoulder holster, but he never made it. His fingers pawed once at the metal butt, then went still.

I let go. I had no idea if I
’
d killed him or not, but there wasn
’
t time to find out. Someone could have heard the racket and be on their way. I untwisted the belt and threaded it back through my belt loops as I stood up, then hiked my pants and tightened it. I scanned the floor until I found the twistkey lying partway under the desk and snatched it up.

In the quiet, I listened and heard voices somewhere down the long
hall
, along with Vamp
’
s high-pitched panting. I started across the room back toward the exit. On my way past, I delivered a hard kick to Hwong
’
s ribs, then grabbed my pistol back and ran out the door, back down the hallway the way we
’
d come.

I had no idea what I was going to do next; all I knew was that there was no way in hell Hwong was going to let any of us out of there alive. The others must have heard the struggle, because footsteps were hurrying down the hall from somewhere up ahead. I ducked into an old metal door that had bowed back into a wall of debris, and squatted down in the shadows as the clamor got louder. Holding my breath, I pressed myself against the door as the soldiers tromped past on their way back to the office with Ligong leading the charge. When they turned the corner, I darted out and sprinted into the darkness toward a dim light that came from around a corner up ahead.

Vamp
’
s panting grew louder as I closed in on the light, ducking under a hanging length of rusted sprinkler pipe when I rounded the corner. Ahead, I could see the open doorway and the blood-splattered floor on the other
side. The concrete saw lay there, lying on one side in a pool of red. I barreled through and almost slipped in the mess, not wanting to look but having to. Nix was slumped in the chair, not moving.

Vamp
’
s eyes stared wildly as I approached him.

“
Come on,
”
he hissed.
“
Come on, cut me loose.
”

I ran to him, flicking out my pocketknife and slashing through the zip ties that held his wrists behind the support pole. When his arms were free, I bent down and freed his ankles from the chair.

“
Okay,
”
he said.
“
Okay, good, let
’
s go, let
’
s go
...
”

I went to Nix and yanked the shock pin out of his neck, but as soon as I cut him loose he slid off the chair and collapsed onto the floor.

“
Come on,
”
I said.
“
Nix, get up.
”

“
Go,
”
Nix said. The voice box flicker was faint, like his connection to it was waning. The pool of blood around him grew, slow but steady.

“
We can
’
t just leave you here,
”
I said in his ear.
“
Come on, you have to get up.
”

“
No,
”
he said. He reached up with his one free hand and touched my face.

“
Nix, come on
...
”

“
Sam, we gotta go,
”
Vamp whispered. Footsteps were headed back in our direction.

“
Stop her,
”
Nix said again. His body went slack, and the air around him warped suddenly, rippling like waves of heat.

He
’
s dying,
I thought.
His body is going to gate back to the ship....

“
Stop right there!
”

I looked up to see Ligong storm through the doorway, the others right behind her. She held a pistol in one hand.

“
Drop that fucking key,
”
she growled, aiming the gun at me.
“
Do it now!
”

The air around Nix warped again, and before she could do anything else I put the twistkey in Nix
’
s free hand, curling his long fingers around it. Ligong barked from across the room,
“
I said—
”

Nix
’
s body vanished. My gun hand had been resting on his chest, the side of the pistol pressed against him, and my palm tingled as the weapon gated off along with him. Air rushed into the vacuum left behind with a loud crack that I felt in my chest, and the ties that had held his wrists and ankles clattered to the floor in a heap. Nix, the twistkey, and the pistol were gone.

“
There,
”
I heaved as Ligong stalked toward me. My head was spinning.
“
Now nobody—
”

She threw a right cross that caught me hard on the cheek and sent me sprawling, unconscious, onto the bloody concrete floor.

~ * ~

Chapter Nineteen

04:11:53 BC

I woke up with my face pressed into some kind of rough material, canvas maybe, while heavy footsteps clomped around me. My whole body was wrapped in it, and I swayed as though in a hammock. Through the cocoon of fabric I heard the clang of machinery in a large open space, and the whistle of escaping steam. Pain throbbed at the base of my skull.

“
What the hell
... ?
”
I mumbled. I tried to reach out, but my arms were pinned.

“
She
’
s awake,
”
a man
’
s voice said. It came from somewhere behind me.

I
’
m in a bag,
I realized. I was
facedown
in a canvas bag, hanging between two men who carried me like so much deadweight.

“
Doesn
’
t matter,
”
another voice answered.

Up ahead, a third someone pushed a door open and then the footsteps around me changed as we entered a room.

“
The second dissident,
”
a voice said.
“
Female.
”

“
Get it on the scale,
”
a fourth voice said.

The guy carrying the foot end of the bag dropped it and my hip crashed down hard on the floor. The other guy up front dumped me out like a load of laundry or trash, jerking the bag away once my head was clear.

The hard, tiled floor felt cold under my bare ass, and I realized I was completely naked. Four men stood around me in a big white room that was lit by work lights that hung from hooks. The floor was covered with a gritty film, and sta
in
ed with green-black mold that also spotted the walls. A row of lockers were set up along one wall, and one hung open so I could see a set of work coveralls that hung inside. There was an old, lime-caked dry-scrub station next to that, and an electronic medical scale set up in one corner that looked newer than everything else.

To my left and right were two big shirtless guys, their skin covered with ornate tattoos. One of the men was bald, and the other
’
s hair was gelled back into spikes. Both of them had festival jiangshi masks hanging back behind their heads like they were getting ready to go to the parade. In front of me, a
foreign green-eyed man stood holding a stack of papers and in front of him a short, ugly man with a comb-over and dark freckles sat behind a big folding table. He wore a pair of long shorts and a colorful, draping shirt sporting a tropical palm pattern.

“
The scale,
”
he said again. One of the men dropped a greasy cardboard box on the table in front of him.

“
You heard him,
”
the green-eyed man said.

“
Where am I?
”
I rasped.
“
What
’
s happening?
”

Green-eyes nudged me with his knee and I lost my balance, falling forward onto my hands.

“
Where
’
s Vamp?
”
I asked.
“
Tell me what
’
s going on.
”

“
Don
’
t talk to it!
”
the old man snapped.
“
Get it on the scale!
”

The man sighed, like he
’
d been scolded by his father.

“
Get on,
”
he said, pointing toward the scale. I stayed on the floor and shook my head. He raised his voice.
“
I can weigh you whole or in pieces, but you
’
re getting weighed.
”

I knew where I was then. I sniffed the air and smelled
cooking meat, along with the metallic tang of blood. I was in a scrapcake factory. The smell came from rendered human flesh.

I stood on shaky
legs,
my mind clutching at any denial no matter how flimsy, but I knew it was true. The scale seemed far away, like it was at the end of a long tunnel.

“
Wait,
”
I said, choking on the word.

“
Get on the scale!
”
he barked, and I raised my hands between us as he took a step toward me.

“
Okay, okay,
”
I said, my voice wavering.

The room seemed to tilt as I walked toward the scale, looking around as I went. There was only one way in and out, through a green metal door back behind me. The two guys who
’
d carried me lingered near it, and could close the gap in a second if I tried to run.

The metal was cold under my bare feet as I climbed up onto the scale. A warm light snapped on over my head, and then a pattern of red laser dots
appeared on my chest as the scale numbers flipped around. The scanner traveled down my stomach, flickering on and off before going dark. The old man consulted the screen of his electronic tablet.

“
Ninety-two,
”
he said.
“
Body fat four point three percent.
Barely worth the fuel to run the equipment.
”