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Their amusement filled the air as little Cat’s energy spun around me to create a light connection. Both she and Bear were the oldest of the little ones, and had always considered me something of a big sister, even though we déchet shouldn’t have even understood the concept. Our initial closeness had come from the amount of time I’d spent in the nursery unit in the years leading up to the war. Even during the war, those lures not out on assignment or in a recovery period were put to use in the nurseries, not only to teach the next generation of fighters, but also to protect them. While déchet soldiers had, for the most part, been neutered emotionally in the test tube, there had been a few instances early on when the constant and grueling programming and training had somehow caused a short-out that had resulted in a killing spree. Not against our creators, because they’d made damn sure none of us were capable of harming humans, and not even against other déchet soldiers like themselves. They’d attacked the children. It was after that the lures had been assigned protection detail. While we’d never been designed as soldiers, we had been taught to fight and defend.
But the connection between the three of us had deepened when the shifters flooded this place with Draccid—a particularly nasty gas that destroyed the body from the inside out. Not only had both Cat and Bear died in my arms, but some of our DNA had mingled on that dreadful day.
The image of three black-clad figures flashed into my mind—two were men, one a woman—and with it came a wash of trepidation. Neither Cat nor the other little ones liked the feel of those strangers.
“Where are they?” I hesitated and looked around as I realized one of them was missing. “And where’s Bear?”
More images flowed into my mind. Bear was upstairs, in the museum, watching the three strangers. They were pointing some sort of handheld device at each portion of the museum’s inner wall before moving on to the next section.
It was an image that had all sorts of inner alarms going off. “Did you happen to get close to the scanner, Cat?”
Her energy danced around me excitedly and I couldn’t help smiling—she loved anticipating my questions. But my smile faded rapidly when the next image flashed into my mind.
The device was a radar scanner. One designed to uncover people or objects hidden behind the thick walls of concrete.
And that could mean these three strangers were trying to find the entrance into the bunker.
I swore and ran, my footsteps echoing sharply in the vast emptiness of this place. Most of the ghosts danced along to the sound, thankfully unaware of the danger these people represented to our home and our solitude, but Cat pressed close, her energy caressing my shoulder and filled with concern. Not just because of the strangers, but because she knew—thanks to our deeper connection—just how fine a line I was walking right now when it came to my strength.
How in Rhea I was going to cope with the three intruders once I got to the museum, I had no idea. But at least I was armed and, from Cat’s images, the three strangers weren’t. That gave me an advantage—as did the presence of the ghosts. While they might be energy rather than flesh, they could both interact with and manipulate the world around them if they so desired. Eve
n though they were little, and therefore restricted in the amount of energy they could expend before it affected them physically, they could certainly toss a human or two about.
It took me ten minutes to reach the fourth level and tunnel D—the first accessible tunnel free from the concrete.
The ghosts followed me into the stairwell, their tiny forms gaining wispy substance in the condensation-laden atmosphere. Most scooted ahead, their whisperings filled with excitement. Only Cat remained close.
I was halfway up the stairwell when there was an odd sort of whoomp. For a heartbeat, nothing happened; then the thick concrete walls around me began to shudder. I paused, my grip on the handrail tightening as the noise grew and grew, until it sounded like a troop tanker was roaring toward me.
Then an explosion of heat and dust and debris hit, knocking me off my feet and sending me tumbling back down the stairs. I flung out a hand, scrabbling desperately for something—anything—to halt my fall. My fingers wedged into a crack that was spreading like a canker down the inner wall, and my fall was stopped so suddenly that I damn near tore my shoulder out of its socket. The ghosts spun around me, their confusion and fear filling my mind. I took a deep breath and tried to reassure them that I was okay, that everything was fine, even if it wasn’t.
Another explosion ripped the air apart. Huge chunks of metal and concrete began to rain all around me as dust and debris gave the ghosts form.
I swung around, felt for the nearest step with my feet, then released my hold on the crack and thrust up. Pain hit, and for an instant, everything spun. The ghosts pressed close, keeping me upright. I took a deep breath that ended in a coughing fit thanks to all the dust, then scrambled up the stairs rather than down. Those people had to be stopped, before they destroyed—The thought died as a third explosion rumbled through the air, this one oddly softer—more distant—than the previous two. Then the ceiling above me shattered and everything went dark.
Chapter 3
I woke to ghostly hands anxiously patting my face, but for several seconds I could neither move nor react. The air was thick and still, and there seemed to be some sort of weight on my chest, making breathing difficult. But I was alive, and that was surely yet more evidence that the goddess Rhea really was looking out for me. Given the strength of those explosions, I should have been dead.
Cat’s energy pressed close. You must get up, she said. It’s too dangerous here.
I forced my eyes open. Destruction lay all around me. Huge chunks of concrete and twisted bits of metal filled the dark void, and the curved walls that had withstood everything the shifters had thrown at this base during the war were fissured and looked unstable. No wonder Cat wanted me out.
The section immediately above me had given way, but the twisting nature of the stairs meant I had no idea if the void ran all the way to the museum, or if the explosion had simply reduced the rest of the stairs to rubble. I hoped it was the latter, if only because it would prevent anyone from gaining immediate access.
Below me there was nothing but more rubble and the occasional step remnant. Whatever the three strangers had used had been very powerful indeed. I wondered how much damage had been done not only to the museum, but also to the old tower that held all the remaining solar panels. They might be an antiquated curiosity to those alive today, but they continued to power not only the systems that had been preserved on the museum floor for demonstration purposes, but most of mine. If they’d been destroyed, I would be left with only the three hydrogen-fueled generators to power the entire base—and those generators were becoming increasingly unreliable.
The weight on my chest was a concrete boulder large enough to also pin my right arm. I couldn’t feel my fingers, so there was, at the very least, nerve damage. There were smaller bits of concrete covering the rest of my body, and a thin sliver of metal had pierced my left calf. Why I wasn’t a howling mess of pain, I had no idea; maybe it was shock. Or maybe my pain receptors had simply given up.
“The intruders?” I croaked. “Where are they?”
This time it was Bear who made the connection. Gone. They left before the two explosions.
I frowned. Hadn’t there been three?
Something cracked in the darkness above us, and debris rained down. The little ones spun around me anxiously, echoing Cat’s urgency to move.
“I need the concrete off my chest first—Bear, could you do it please?”
