The Black Tide (Outcast 3)

Meaning Jonas had already asked him. I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about that, which was utterly ridiculous given we were a team.

In the grounded scooter, Cat said, one soldier remains. Knocking him out would do for the moment, would it not?

Indeed it would, I said, amused at the anticipation in her tone. But wait until the other men are clear of the vehicle and there’s no possibility of them realizing he’s been attacked. Bear?

I slipped in through a vent. There is a box of armaments secured at the rear of the vehicle. He paused. The three who walked from the grounded scooter now approach Jonas's side of the ATV.

Meaning we only had minutes, if that, to make this happen. Jonas, I'm going to shadow and take out that third ATV. Bear, Cat, on my mark, move.

Ghostly eagerness met my comment, and it was accompanied by a vague sense of agreement from Jonas.

I called to the gritty darkness of my underground hideaway, and wrapped it around me, inside and out. Then I pushed upwards, the sand falling like a waterfall both through and around me. It was going to itch like hell when I resumed flesh form.

Once above ground, I did a quick circle to locate the scooters—which were little more than cylindrical tubes with stubby wings—and then raced across to one uninhabited by a g

host. I approached the front of the vehicle warily and looked in through the front screens. Aside from the wash of light coming from both the radar and control screens, the cabin appeared to be relatively dark. Though there were eight seats within the craft, only four were occupied. Better odds, but I’d still have to be fast if I wanted to take them all out.

I located the air vent, took a deep breath—a useless action in this form, and one that was a definite hangover from flesh—and then said, Right, going in. Hit them, people.

The thought had no sooner formed than gunfire erupted. I surged through the vent and into the scooter’s cabin. There were two people sitting in front of the control panels—one a sharp-faced woman who was obviously in charge given the rapid-fire orders she was giving—while the other two were unbuckling their harnesses, ready for action. The control board’s blue-and-white light washed across some of my particles, making them sting and stir in reaction, but thankfully it wasn’t strong enough to tear me back to full flesh. I partially reformed, silently drew my weapons, and then shot the two men at the rear of the vehicle before they even realized I was there. The driver was next. But as his brains splattered across the windshield, the commander spun and returned fire. One bullet grazed my arm and the other went straight through my particle chest—a killing shot had I been fully flesh.

I took her out, then reformed and dragged the driver’s body away from the control panel. Once I’d landed the scooter, I cut the engine, opened the door, and went out into the ever-growing brightness of day.

Just as I did, the third scooter exploded into a huge ball of flame. I threw myself down, covering my head with my hands as bits of metal, glass, and Rhea only knew what else ricocheted through the air. Heat from the fireball briefly sizzled across my skin but just as quickly fled.

I pushed upright. Bear? You okay?

Yes. His energy spun around me, tired but filled with excitement. We should explode more things. That was fun.

A smile tugged my lips. Cat? Everything okay with you?

I knocked the driver out. He still breathes.

“Good,” Jonas said, as he appeared from around the other side of the ATV. “Because I need to question him. How bad is that wound on your arm, Tiger?”

I glanced at it. The bullet had gone in and out, and the subsequent wound was as sore as hell. But nothing vital had been hit and the bleeding had already begun to ease. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“And, as we so recently discovered, you’d say that even on the point of death.” His tone was amused. “Let’s go question Cat’s prisoner.”

I fell in step beside him. “Are these men from Central, do you think?”

“They could be, but they’re not rangers, and the vehicles aren’t military.”

I frowned at the scooter we were approaching. “They look military.”

“Yes, but I’d say they’re decommissioned stock.”

“Who else but the military would have use for them? They’re not powerful enough for haulage, and they’d be useless as people movers given they can’t carry more than eight. Besides, they were built for speed rather than comfort.”

“Vehicles like these are often used in food production areas, especially in the livestock zones, where there’s a need to do a daily check.” He stepped onto the ramp and strode inside. Cat’s energy danced around us—a dangerous action given the metal bar she was still holding.

Jonas ducked without comment and pulled the driver off the control panel. There was a nasty-looking cut on the left side of his head and blood running down the side of his face and into his beard. His skin had a grayish tinge and his breathing was labored. He wasn’t long for this world, I suspected.

Jonas glanced at the name inscribed on the man’s uniform and then said in a commanding tone, “Grant, report. What happened here?”

The man groaned and tried to lift his head. It rolled back against the seat’s headrest instead.

“Grant, this is an order. Report immediately.”