Specimen

around the back of the other man’s head, pulling him toward me and slamming my forehead into his nose. Blood erupts, covering my arm as he punches my gut ineffectively. With my hand still around the back of his neck, I punch his throat, collapsing his trachea.

He drops next to his still-screaming comrade. He claws at his throat, and I stomp my foot into his face, smashing his skull. Dropping the chair leg, I grab the other man by the head and twist. Another crack echoes in the hall, and his body goes limp.

A second later, I am at Riley’s side.

“My leg!” Riley looks up at me. She pulls her hand away, revealing blood.

There’s a gash in her calf where the bullet grazed her. It’s not life-threatening but definitely painful. If it’s not treated, chances of infection are high. I will need to find medication for her and get her to a safe location. Her injury is going to slow us down, and I have to recalculate every potential action we might take to compensate.

“I don’t know if I can walk.”

I pause and listen for additional footsteps, but I hear nothing. The gunfire hasn’t attracted anyone yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Somewhere far ahead of us, I can hear other shots, but there is no immediate threat.

Crouching next to her, I reach up and touch the side of her face.

“I’ve got you, Riley,” I tell her. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

I slip my arms under her legs and behind her back, lifting her up. I make sure she’s well balanced and hanging on before I squat down and retrieve the table leg. Riley directs me down another hall, through some doors, and past a large conference room. Still, we encounter no one.

The facility is so large. How can there be no one else here?

As we approach the end of the hallway, it intersects another, larger corridor. I can hear faint voices. There are tall windows in front of us looking out over the cityscape. I can see a sliver of water between two of the tall buildings.

“Sten.” Riley’s grip on my shoulders tightens.

I look into her eyes as I place my finger over my lips to quiet her. I point to myself and mouth “I’ve got this” before setting her gently on the floor.

I peer around the corner. There are four of them, each heavily armed. They’re wearing fatigues with a geometric symbol over their biceps. Two are only a handful of steps from the corner, but the others are farther from reach. There’s no way to take both of them out without the others noticing and having an opportunity to fire.

I have to succeed. Riley’s life depends on it.

In my mind, flashing images filled with sight and sound tell me exactly how to proceed, who to attack first, and seventeen different parry tactics based on the most likely reactions of the man next to him. Further instructions fill my head as I make my first move.

Using all my speed, I enter the corridor and run to the back of the first man. With the sharp end of the table leg, I jab at the space between his hairline and the collar of his jacket. My weapon isn’t sharp enough for an instant kill, but it’s enough to drop him to the ground, incapacitated. An instant later, I slam the metal rod into the face of the man next to him, and he joins his companion on the floor.

Shots ring out. I dive to one side, rolling to the wall and coming up in a crouch. I’ve moved quickly enough to confuse them and spoil their aim. With my feet planted firmly against the floor, I lunge with my arms spread, tackling them both to the ground with one blow. Neither has a chance to get off another shot before they’re down. I slam the palm of my hand into one man’s face, grab his weapon, and bash in his teeth.

He flies backward, and the weapon flies with him. I reach for the throat of the other, shoving him to his back as I straddle his chest. His eyes bulge as he struggles for air, but he has no hope of unlocking my fingers from his neck.

As the light dims in his eyes, I hear the slamming of feet on the tile floors. I look up, and a group of men is running in my direction, weapons aimed. Rolling to one side, I grab the body off the floor and hold it up. It quakes in my grasp as bullets slam into it.

“Sten!” I glance quickly over my shoulder at Riley. She’s moved herself out into the corridor. She’s still on the ground, but is now clearly visible to the invaders.

What the hell is she doing?

“Stay back!” I yell. “Get back behind the wall!”

If she stays out there, I can’t protect her. She’s hurt. She’s vulnerable. She could die. I might not be able to save her. Riley could die. I can’t let that happen. Nothing is more important than her. I have to kill them now. I have to kill them all.

Shots ring out again. Switching the chair leg to my left hand, I grab for the handgun in the dead man’s holster and begin to fire. They’re all running toward me, and I have to recalculate every shot. It all happens so quickly, yet I see every action of every soldier. I hear every shot, feel every kickback. Bullets whiz past my ears, but I never falter. There are eight of them, and I drop seven before running out of ammo.

The last of them comes at me. He, too, is out of ammunition, and he screams as he rushes me with the butt of his weapon pointed toward my face. I drop the gun and swing the chair leg to connect with his head. He drops to the ground, and I’m on top of him, shoving the sharp end of my weapon into his guts. His eyes bulge, and he slumps to the ground beneath me.

A moment later, the area is filled with grey fog.

What?

I shake my head and quickly look around as the walls around me fade away. The body below me disappears along with my weapon. When I look in the direction where Riley was sitting, she’s gone too.