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ed.
“Glad to see that death hasn’t affected your intelligence.”
An odd sound caught my attention and I looked past him. Whatever had been in the vials the container had smashed through was causing a reaction—one that had white-yellow smoke curling toward the ceiling.
Was it strong enough to cause an explosion? There were certainly plenty of substances in laboratories that could, but—as far as I was aware—it was generally the noxious vapors generated when two incompatible substances were mixed that were the main problem. Some of those gases were flammable, but I had no idea whether there had to be an ignition source for that to happen. There were no open flames in this laboratory, nothing that I could use to start a fire with.
Except, maybe, the machines that were keeping Sal’s body alive.
If the gases were strong enough—flammable enough—then maybe all I needed was a spark. Even an exposed wire might be enough.
I flexed my fingers and returned my gaze to Sal. New ghosts generally weren’t in full control of their abilities, nor were they overly strong. He might have wrenched the container from my hand, but that, combined with his insistence on appearing solid, would weaken him.
If I was fast enough, I might just be able to do what I’d come here to do.
“You always were a little idealistic,” he said. “It was your downfall in the past, and I’m afraid it will be your downfall now.”
“They’ve got to catch me first, Sal.”
“It would be one against hundreds, and you are a lure, not a fighter.” The smile that tugged his lips didn’t erase the cold calculation from his eyes.
My muscles were wound so tight my body was practically humming. I placed my hands on the table and leaned forward, as if I were trying to get closer to him. “I will die before I let those men or your partners take me alive.”
“Good,” he said. “It will save us the effort of killing you. But rest assured we will dispose of your body in an appropriate manner—after we’ve dissected every part of you, of course, and gathered every scrap of information we might need.”
Two elevators filled with guards just arrived, Bear said. They’re running toward you.
Meaning my time had just run out.
“Sorry, Sal.” I shifted my grip on the table. “But that’s not happening, either.”
I kicked the second bottle of acid and, as its contents spilled across the floor, heaved the table up and over. Wires and IVs tore from both his body and several of the machines, while other machines toppled over, hitting the floor with a resounding crash. As the table landed with Sal face-first in the liquid, I grabbed a gun and fired at the nearest machines. Sparks flew; then, with a huge whoosh, fire erupted.
Bitch! Sal’s voice was filled with anger. Energy surged, but it wasn’t aimed at me. The table holding his body shifted several feet to the left, but it didn’t stop either the fire or the liquid from consuming his flesh. His ghostly body wavered, fading in and out of existence. He was close to his limits, but that didn’t mean anything. He’d never had much respect for limits when he was alive—I doubted that had changed in death.
The guards are in the main corridor, Bear warned.
As fire alarms began to shriek and sprinklers dropped from the ceiling, I leapt over the table and ran through the fire and the water—not toward the door, but rather the other table. Thick smoke was still issuing from the chemical mix that was now dripping onto the floor, but there were still unbroken vials on the table and they were my next target. Cat, is the fire escape clear?
So far, yes.
I skidded under the table, then rose and braced it against my back. With a grunt of effort, I straightened, flipping the table onto its side. Glass vials and various other apparatus smashed to the floor, their contents quickly mingling with the fluids already there. There was a flash of light and then a huge whoomp, and I was blasted several feet backward. I hit the wall with a grunt and slithered to the floor, my breath a rasp, my throat burning, and my clothes on fire. I swore and scrambled, on hands and knees, under the nearest sprinkler, letting the water douse the flames even as I became aware of the heat in my feet. I twisted around; the soles of my shoes were melting.
The acid.
I swore, but resisted the urge to rip them off and go barefoot. Right now there was an ocean of chemicals between me and the door, and what was left of these boots was all I had between my feet and said chemicals.
The guards are nearing the lab, Bear warned. You need to get out. Now.
I pushed upright and ran for the door. Caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye and ducked instinctively. The chair that would have sent me sprawling hit the wall behind me instead and clattered to the floor in several pieces.
I spun, raised a gun, and fired at the ghost trying to stop me. He reacted as he would have had he still been flesh—he flung himself to one side, and the bullets hit several machines instead. Sparks flew, reigniting the smoke, creating a wave of liquid heat that roared toward me.
I swore again and lunged at the door, waving my hand across the scanner, then all but rolling into the corridor. The wave chased me out, boiling the air around me and making it difficult to breathe. Hands grabbed my arms and pulled me clear.
Guards, not ghosts.
I twisted, kicking one in the face before lunging around and biting the other. He swore and released me. As I fell backward, I raised the gun and fired. The two men went down as one, their brains splattering across the wall behind them.
