Red Zone (Red Zone 1)

He pushed forward, and suddenly artificial light enveloped them. Friday fell to her knees, panting, desperately sucking in air that was stale and thick but blessedly free from dirt and dust.

Striker threaded his hands under her arms and yanked her up. “Not yet. We need to get out of this building. The tunnel

could collapse beneath us.”

They raced up more stairs and out into an abandoned store. Striker scanned the street beyond the windows while Friday bent double and gasped for air.

“Okay, we’re good. Come on.” He motioned for her to follow. Unlike her, he wasn’t out of breath.

They sneaked out into the street, hugging the walls of the buildings, keeping to the shadows. Striker took her hand again to ensure she kept pace with him. His eye restlessly scanned the area as he led her across the road. They were in a suburb full of cheap prefab houses with tiny rooms and even smaller windows. Boxes for storing the poor, out of sight of the rich, where they couldn’t offend.

“In here.” He elbowed the door to a darkened house. There was a crack and the panel gave way.

He shoved her inside and quietly shut the broken door behind them. As he spied out of the window to see if anyone was following, Friday surveyed their surroundings. They were in the main room. The kitchen area was in the corner. The furnishings were sparse, cheap but neat. Someone had tried to care for their home, and it had been invaded. Guilt assailed her.

Striker turned away from the window. “We’re good here for now.”

He strode to the kitchen area, opened the refrigerator, and pulled out two bottles of water. He thrust one at her. “Drink. But spit out the first few mouthfuls. We ate a lot of dirt.”

She followed him to the sink and did as he ordered. Her first swallow of ice-cold water was a balm to her abused throat. Without another word, Striker fetched two more bottles and passed one to her. She sank down the wall to sit on the cool stone floor. Her mind was blank, and every inch of her body began to ache. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. It felt like her eyeballs had been rolled in sand. The grit had worked its way under her comlens and rubbed relentlessly against her eyeball. She made a mental note to take the damn thing out, first chance she got. The lens was useless to her anyway, now that she was disconnected from the grid.

“You did good.”

She snorted. It wasn’t ladylike. She didn’t care. “I did nothing.”

“Which is exactly what I told you to do. Hence the good.”

She opened her eyes to find Striker crouched in front of her. “You could have told me there were snakes in the tunnel.”

He shrugged, but that wicked smile was back. “The only predator you need to worry about is me.”

“How did Enforcement get past the staircase? You said it was rigged to blow.”

“I don’t know. But I’ll make a call and ask a few questions.”

That made her weary body move. Her hand shot out and her fingers curled around his wrist.

“You can’t call anyone. The public communications network and all the messaging systems are being monitored. They’ll be on us within seconds.”

“You have a lot to learn. I keep telling you, I know what I’m doing.”

He reached into his back pocket and came out with a small metal box. He pressed a button on it then put it to his ear. It took her a few seconds to realize what it was—an old phone. A museum piece.

“Those don’t work anymore,” she said when the shock passed. “They haven’t worked for over eighty years.”

The infuriating man winked at her. “Keep drinking, then we’ll clean you up and get out of here.”

She opened her mouth to say something else, but he suddenly started talking into the phone. Guess they did still work after all.

“We were made. What the hell happened?”

He turned away from her, his focus on the call, leaving her to wonder who her rescuer was, exactly, and if they were going to make it to La Paz in time to save her life.

Chapter Five

Striker worked to control his rage. The urge to hit out at something, anything, burned through him. All he needed was a target. Instead he had a bunch of questions and a woman he’d promised to protect. He watched Friday gulp her water. Just watching her calmed him. She’d done good. No hysterics. No acting out. She followed orders like a pro. Although her fitness needed work. Something he intended to help her with after they made it to La Paz.

If they made it to La Paz.