Viper Game (GhostWalkers 11)

den. I count five guards. Their weapons are lyin' up against the wall on your side. I see three handguns, but they're probably all packin' more. Two of the three carryin' are close to you, the other is nearly on top of me. I'll dart them first because their hands are close to their guns.

I see them, Draden confirmed. I'll take the other two. You ready?

Wyatt took a breath and let it out. Go. He calmly darted each man, one right after the other and then switched back to the first one to ensure he'd gone down. The men toppled to the floor, one dropping his beer bottle from nerveless fingers. Wyatt caught the sound, muffling it, as it would have carried in the quiet of the night.

All five down, Wyatt said, pulling himself onto the roof with Draden.

Draden was already collecting weapons as quickly as possible while Wyatt checked the guards to make certain they were all the way out.

Trap, you're up. You go in first. Pepper, if he makes it, you're next.

Get into the lab, Wyatt, we need anything you can find on the antivenom, how far they've gotten in their research, Trap said. Hell, just get everything they've got. We might find it useful.

Why are you going into the labs? Pepper asked, suddenly anxious. I thought this was just about the children. And maybe rescuing the woman they're holding prisoner. Why are you going inside? That floor is heavily guarded and you need palm scans on the third floor for everything. The guards there are different. You didn't say a word about going inside there. It's dangerous. Soundproof. We don't need anything from there.

There was no mistaking the anxiety in her voice, or her worry for him and he couldn't help but feel a little satisfaction that she didn't want him in danger. He had known all along she wouldn't want them going anywhere near the lab. He'd not told her what he would be doing on purpose. She wouldn't understand their need to get the files on the girls.

We need to find out why they created the children, what they did and how we can counteract it, he admitted to her. I'll be fine.

Really, Wyatt, don't go in there. This is crazy. We don't need the information enough to risk your life. She was pleading with him, more afraid of the lab than the cells.

He tried to soothe her, pushing a confident calm into her mind, even as he used his tone of command. You just get the kids and get out of there. Malichai and Ezekiel will cover us outside. I'll be inside with Draden. Trap will be on the lower floor watching your back and then he'll try to free the woman.

I just don't see how it's possible for him to get inside, she reiterated.

We're GhostWalkers, ma'am, Ezekiel said, as if that explained everything, and to them it did. Same as you. You got in and out your way. We'll do the same.

As Whitney had refined his experiments and learned from his mistakes, he got better and better at enhancing his soldiers without too many repercussions. Trap's specialty was the most dangerous, as far as Wyatt was concerned. Trap had a good mind and was brilliant with numbers, but if his measurements weren't exact or they were off on their intel, he could be in trouble.

Wyatt took a deep breath and let it out, watching from the roof as Trap sprinted across the open space and easily cleared the fence in one jump. He landed softer than any big man had the right to do, making his way to the side of the building where the children were being held.

They know sign language, Trap, Wyatt reminded just in case Trap ended up in a cell with one of the babies. They bite out of fear, just the way a snake might.

Okay, mama, are you ever going to let me get to this, or are you going to yammer at me all night? I committed a few books on sign language to memory, and your woman promised to let those babies know I'm on their side.

Wyatt knew he had to allow Trap to do his work, but he couldn't help feeling reluctant. He never quite could shake the fear when Trap was about to pass through something solid. One missed calculation and he was toast.

Trap ran his hands over the concrete wall, ignoring the mold and green slime clinging to the surface. He closed his eyes, tuning himself to the materials used to create the wall. Limestone. Ash. Slag. Aggregate. He let himself find every component, blocking everything else out of his world. He could no longer hear the heartbeat of the swamp, only the faint energy hum coming from the concrete wall itself.

He was a scientist and he still had a difficult time understanding why his body seemed to absorb the past of whatever object he touched. He "saw" the building being made. Felt the thickness. The grade of concrete. He found every piece of reinforced rebar or steel running through the building, feeling as if the same steel ran through his own body.

Once he was tuned to the molecular structure of the wall, he felt his own body stretching toward it. The effect was wrenching and uncomfortable, almost as if he was being pulled apart. He still stood in the exact same spot, but his skin and insides felt as if they were being lifted from his own body and being dragged inside the cement.

He took a breath. There was always that moment where he wasn't certain he would actually go through with such an unnatural act. His bones ached. His head felt as if it might explode. He never brought weapons with him or he stashed them outside the wall of whatever building he was entering. They wouldn't go through with him.

Clothing had been a major problem at first, but he'd spent a great deal of time in his lab, coming up with a material that could cling to his skin and break apart in the same way as his body and then reassemble on the other side.

He stepped close and pressed into the green slime, embracing the rock and allowing it to consume him. That was exactly how it felt, as if a giant had wrenched him apart and taken him into its very mouth. There was no light, no sense of being for one terrible moment and he could hear the familiar screaming in his head. Even his intellect couldn't overcome that human response of being ripped apart and absorbed.

There was no way to breathe, to get air. He was never certain if he actually had lungs in that moment, or if they'd been ripped from his body. He counted in his head. He knew exactly how long each pass through various materials took, depending on the denseness of what he was going through, but he'd never attempted a wall so solid or so thick.

He found himself on the other side, shuddering, gasping for breath, his heart pounding, his skull too tight for his brain, and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. At the same time, he was aware of the two soldiers, whose backs were to him. He was close enough to reach out and touch them. They both were absorbed with tormenting the babies, who were in separate cells.

Both girls, looking identical to Ginger, cringed in the back of their cells. Clearly the three girls were triplets, not from individual eggs but a single egg split. One had tears running down her face but there was no sound. The men had a long metal prod they were using to poke through the bars. On the end of one was a curved open hook they were using to try to snag the neck of the crying child, clearly to drag the baby in close to them. The other had a glass with a cloth stretched over it.

There was no doubt in Trap's mind they were attempting to "milk" the venom from the child. Trap wasn't like Wyatt. He didn't feel anger often. In fact, he rarely felt emotion, he was always far too occupied with finding answers to the problems running around in his head. Seeing two grown men, grinning like apes, poking at babies set his blood to a slow boil.

Both children saw him instantly, but neither indicated his presence to the soldiers. He reached out and caught the nearest man's head, snapping the neck forcibly, using both enhanced speed and enhanced strength. He was on the second man before the soldier could pick up his weapon, a semiautomatic he'd propped near the door. Instead, the soldier went for his knife.

Trap clamped his hand down hard around the soldier's, trapping the man's fingers around the weapon. "Don't be scared," he said aloud to the babies. "Pepper's coming. Your mother's coming. She sent me to help you."

He didn't know how much they understood, but Ginger understood a lot. Clearly she was a brilliant child. Whitney had deliberately used the egg and sperm of two geniuses with the hope

of producing intelligent children. If Ginger was any indication, the man had succeeded in that regard.

Trap drove the soldier back away from the children toward the opposite side of the enclosed space. There wasn't a lot of room. The man's back hit the elevator doors, the sound loud. Pepper had told him the prison was soundproof, and he hoped she was right. The soldier punched him with his free hand, three rapid shots to the face. Trap stepped close, crowding the man, slamming his head into the soldier's head and then bringing up his fist to punch through the Adam's apple.

He let the body drop to the floor. I'm in. I'm armed. Both children are here in separate cells. If I can get them to trust me, I'll open the cells. Pepper, get moving. It's definitely a trap, Wyatt. They had two soldiers waiting. Soldiers, not civilian guards.

You're on, Pepper, Wyatt said. Trap, don' take any chances. Pepper will get there fast. She already knows the way. Wait for her.

One is crying, Wyatt, and the other is about to.

Damn it, Trap, you follow orders. Don' you go near them until Pepper's there. Wyatt rarely displayed emotion during a mission, but his alarm definitely came through.

Trap turned his attention to the children, keeping a distance from the cell doors. He signed to them that Pepper had sent him and she was on her way. He wanted to open the cell doors but didn't want them to be afraid.

Neither moved for a moment, but he was certain they were communicating. One of them signed fast. He frowned, trying to read the tiny moving hands. He'd learned signing, of course, from the books he'd read. It hadn't been that difficult, and his mind instantly remembered, but seeing the movements made with such little fingers was an altogether different thing.

"You'll have to slow down," he said aloud. "I'm not the best at reading sign."

He added the words, using his sign language as well. One of the girls came close to the bars of her cell and raised her arms in the air, repeating the signs she'd made before, this time much slower.

He nodded his head. "Ginger is fine. So is Pepper. We're going to get you out of here. Do either of you know if the other prisoner held on the other side is still alive?"

The two girls looked at one another. The one who had signed to him turned back, her fingers moving again.