Winter Halo (Outcast 2)

I closed my eyes and silently swore. Corps. Rhea help me, they were corps.

The first man stopped to the right of the door and silently scanned the room, his rifle raised and ready to fire. After a moment, he motioned to those behind him. Three more slipped in, blue ghosts who quickly and silently moved toward the shelving.

Tension ran through me, but I didn’t move and I kept my gun raised and ready.

The three disappeared into the long metal canyons. The fourth remained near the door and didn’t move. It left me with little choice but to risk slipping past him.

I silently—carefully—pulled off my boots and attached them to the spare hooks on my pants, then padded forward lightly. The stone floor was cold, but better that than the guard hearing my combat-heavy footsteps. Both the corps and the rangers might have learned the art of walking with little sound, but it wasn’t something I’d ever needed.

As I neared the guard, his gaze narrowed and his gun swung toward me. I held still, not daring to breathe. His nostrils flared as he drew in a deeper breath and I knew in that instant he’d sensed me.

I fired. There was nothing else I could do—not when his finger was curling around the trigger. As the bullet tore through his brain, I darted forward, grabbing his rifle first, then a fistful of shirt to ease him gently to the floor.

I had a couple of minutes, if that, before his men realized something was wrong and returned.

I slipped through the open doorway and into the next room. The light here was sun-bright and I quickly drew it around me to strengthen the shield. The room held little more than a series of light panels and a couple of chairs. Two heavily armed guards stood near the barred exit; there was a security panel next to the guy on the right—one that was both a fingerprint and an iris scanner. The two guards had their weapons drawn, though neither showed any awareness of my presence or the fact that someone now lay dead in the room beyond.

My gaze went back to the scanner. My only way out of here was to get past both it and the guards. And finesse wasn’t an option—not when every instinct I had was warning that time was fast running out. I flipped the rifle so that I was holding it by the barrel rather than the butt, then stepped closer and swung it as hard as I could. As the first guard went down I spun and kicked the other in the nuts. He doubled over instantly, clutching himself. I swung the rifle again, and he went down like a sack of potatoes.

I hooked the weapon around my shoulders, then grabbed the smaller of the two men and hauled him toward the scanner. I slapped his right hand against the screen and then, once it had registered, shoved his face against the iris scanner and forced a lid open. The scanner did its work and the gate opened.

But I didn’t go through it. Instead, I wrapped my fingers around the guard’s wrist and opened the floodgates on my seeking skills. The question that needed answering was simple—how the hell did I get out of this place?

Images flooded my mind and one thing quickly became apparent—leaving wasn’t going to be easy. The whole place was locked down with scanners. Short of cutting off the guard’s hand and stealing his eyeball, I was stuck. I frowned and dug deeper; learned that there were two emergency exits—one on this side of the building, and one on the other. Thankfully, both were ordinary exits, unfettered by security apparatus.

Sound whispered across the stillness. I glanced at the other room. I couldn’t see anyone, but they were close, so very close.

I rose and ran through the gate. But as I did, blue light flashed and an alarm went off, the sound strident. The damn thing had been equipped with a body mass scanner, and because I hadn’t matched the guard’s registered details, the alarm had gone off.

There was nothing I could do now but run. I pounded down the bright hall, heading for the stairs I’d seen in the guard’s mind, the slap of my feet against the flooring echoing softly. There was little point in being quiet now—the corps knew I was out here.

More guards appeared at the far end of the corridor. Between them and me was the exit I was looking for. I increased my pace, giving it everything I had. The guards stopped and raised their weapons. They might not be able to see me, but they could hear me.

I swore and lunged for the door. There was a sharp blast of noise, and a heartbeat later bullets rained all around me, pinging off the floors, the walls, and into my skin. I thrust the door open and all but dove through it. But I wasn’t safe yet—far from it. I rolled to my feet and ran up the stairs. There was no other choice; I was already at basement level. But I wasn’t aiming for the ground floor, as I had no doubt there’d now be a whole lot more than body scanners awaiting in the main exits out of this place now. My only hope of escape was the roof.

Blood began dripping from the wounds on my arms and legs—wounds I couldn’t even feel thanks to the adrenaline coursing through my body—leaving a trail behind me that would be too easy to follow. It didn’t matter; nothing did but getting to the very top of this building.

I raced up the steps, my gaze on the levels high above me. One level down, then two, then three; at least five more to go . . .

Down at the basement, the exit door crashed back against the wall and men flowed into the stairwell. Time was rapidly running out.

I reached for everything I had and raced on. The stairwell became a blur of concrete and light, the level indicators unreadable.

Two more floors down, then three, four, and finally five . . . the exit door was locked. I slid to a stop, skinning my feet on the hard concrete, and pulled the rifle free. Two shots took the lock out. I raised a bloody foot and kicked the door open. UV light flooded into the stairwell, its touch warm, welcoming.

But I had no time to enjoy it. The guards were only a few floors below me now.

I raced out. The rooftop was filled with lights and photovoltaic cells, a metal forest that wouldn’t do much to hide me in my current condition. I swung left, heading for the building’s parapet, and saw the green of trees beyond it. And knew, without a doubt, where I was.

Government House.

The place where the ruling council met and where most of them had offices.

And Sal’s partners had a direct line into it.

That was information Nuri wasn’t going to be pleased to hear—not that she would hear it if I didn’t get off this building and lose both the corps and the guards.

I wove through the forest of equipment, taking an indirect route to the edge of the building in the vague hope that such a path would at least gain me some time. But I didn’t leap over the edge—even I couldn’t survive an eight-level drop. Not in this form and there was no way I could change to the other. Not when my strength was draining as fast as the blood down my limbs.