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out. Now. ” She stripped off the surgical smock, cap, and mask, and pulled out a gun of her own. “Any ideas?”
Fideli shot the card reader into junk, but the door stayed firmly down. He tossed the ID back to Pansy, who stuck it in her pocket. “Not so much,” he said. “Retreat?”
“They’re coming,” Bryn said. She limped off to the side and braced her arms on a lab table. She’d need the support. The shooting she’d already done had taken a lot out of her, and she felt as weak as a little girl. Water. I need water.
No time for that now.
Her searching gaze fell on neatly ranked and labeled jars, beakers, and canisters against the wall on racks. “Pansy,” she said. “Acid. ” There was a whole row of it, in a multitude of flavors and packaging. Pansy let out a surprised gasp and ran over to inspect the labels. She grabbed two large bottles, a safety face shield, and thick protective gloves that came up to her armpits.
“Back off,” she ordered Joe. “Don’t breathe it in. ” She opened up the first bottle and splashed it in a golden arc over the corrugated metal door that refused to open for them, and kept splashing as it began to hiss and eat through the thick surface. The first bottle emptied. She used the second. A noxious, thick, burning fog filled the room, and Joe and Pansy were coughing and choking on it.
Bryn was, too, but it didn’t matter. Like the man she’d shot in the head, everything was temporary. She could burn black holes all over her lungs and it would all be okay in the morning.
She grabbed the gloves from Pansy, who had sunk to the floor to gasp in cleaner air, and began punching at the weakened metal. It sagged and melted, and her blows bent it outward.
Bryn made a hole, then dragged Pansy over and pushed her through it, then went back for Joe, who was staggering blindly through the corrosive air. “Don’t breathe it! Keep your eyes shut!” she yelled at him, and he nodded, eyes tightly shut. She shoved him through the narrow opening and dived through after.
There were guards swarming from both sides, but their little escape party was lucky in one small way…. A Pharmadene van sat at the dock, back doors open. The driver ran when she pointed the gun at him, and left the keys in the ignition. “Get in!” Bryn yelled. She climbed into the driver’s seat and heard the other two clamber aboard; she checked through the wire mesh to be sure as Joe swung the back doors shut and slapped his hand on the van’s side.
“Move it!” he yelled back.
She put it in drive and punched it.
Driving straight at the guards was the only way to go. Some got out of the way; two stood their ground, firing right through the windshield. She took two bullets, one in the shoulder, one in the throat, and the pain washed over her in a blinding, crippling wave.
Not going to die. Not here. Not now. I can‘t.
She held on, kept her foot down, and hit the gates at full speed. The crash almost bounced her out of the seat, but the gates gave way first.
“Tire shredders!” Joe rasped, crawling past her into the passenger seat. “Go off-road; go around!”
She saw the pavement lifting up ahead in a line of black spikes. Automated defenses, designed to stop any cars that made it this far through the gates. Automatic weapons fire was peppering the back of the van, and in the cracked rearview mirror, Bryn saw that three Pharmadene sedans were headed out in pursuit.
She turned the wheel at the last minute and went off the road. There were low stone walls designed to keep her on the path, but she didn’t care about the damage to the van, and the walls hadn’t been reinforced; they smashed apart under the van’s momentum, and she squeezed by the tire shredders with about an inch to spare.
The first pursuing sedan hit them head-on. All four tires blew, and the driver lost control. The car flipped, shedding glass and one rag-doll passenger.
The others managed to avoid the wreckage, and crawled around the edges before accelerating again in pursuit.
“Still with us!” Joe said. “Punch it! Go right at the intersection!”
She took the turn, barely slowing, and fought to keep the top-heavy vehicle from tipping. In the back, Pansy threw open one of the back doors, opened a box marked with hazardous materials symbols, and began throwing the contents onto the closest pursuing sedan. It must have been more acid, because the hood began to smoke and melt, and the mist pitted and clouded the windshield.
The car veered off and smashed full-speed into a pole, which tilted and crashed, downing power lines in blue-white sparks.
The third car stopped, tangled in the high voltage.
Bryn didn’t slow down. Joe kept dictating turns, and finally Bryn eased off the gas as they reached a busier area. “God,” she whispered. “It actually worked. ”
“No, it didn’t,” Joe said. “They’re tracking us. ” He looked over at her with a strange kind of sadness. “They’re tracking you. And we’re going to have to take care of that right now. ”
Bryn took in a deep breath. “It’s not going to be painless, is it?”
“No,” Joe said, and turned to look at the road. “I’m afraid it’s not going to be painless at all. ”
Chapter 11
The pain slowed its rush through Bryn’s system to a merely unbearable ache. She tried not to look at her hands, or catch any hint of a reflection, but even so, her eyes wouldn’t stay away from seeking out some sign of regeneration.
