The Black Tide (Outcast 3)

They raced away. The guard paused and then retreated. The door closed again and silence fell. I cautiously peered around the shelving, but it was no trap. The room was empty. I sighed in relief and stepped out. Jonas joined me near the door.

“How do you want to play this?” I asked.

“As quietly as possible.” He paused. “Is there enough light here to draw a shield around you?”

I nodded. “I could possibly include you within its confines.”

“Have you done something like that before?”

“No, but I hadn't carried anyone with me in shadow until I did it with you in that bunker.”

“Not an experience I want to repeat in any sort of hurry.” He scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “You shield. I'll play it straight, and we'll see what happens.”

I called the light to me. Once I was concealed behind its brightness, I cautiously stepped out into the corridor. The guards weren't visible, meaning they had to be investigating one of the other rooms.

We moved on, only slowing our pace once the corridor swept us out of the immediate sight of the two investigating guards. Even so, the tension in me didn't ease. It was something that wasn’t likely to change in the near future—not when we’re walking into a situation there might be no getting out of.

There was no darkness to hide in here. And while I more than likely could conceal Jonas behind the light shield, it was only a shield. A trick of the eye. It wouldn’t allow me to rise above gunshots nor would the bullets go right through me without causing major trauma to my flesh—and his.

The corridor finally straightened and the guarded doorway came into view. A heavily armed man and woman stood either side of what looked to be more a double-width blast door than the sort of door you'd normally find in non-military buildings such as this. There was also what looked to be an updated version of the eye and blood scanners that were still in use in my old bunker on the wall behind the female guard.

And that meant if either our stolen RFID chip or the guards weren't authorized to go through that doorway, our rescue mission was dead in the water.

I tucked in behind Jonas, keeping him between those guards and me just in case one of them was alert enough to catch the soft shimmer of the shield.

The woman took a step forward and raised her gun. “Halt and identify yourself, Doctor.”

“Medic Theodore Hasham,” Jonas said easily. “I've been called into facility three.”

The woman frowned. “We've not been notified, and that's highly unusual.”

Jonas continued to head toward her. I moved across to the other guard, doing my best to move silently—a near impossibility on these floors. Thankfully, the guard was watching the known threat rather than the unknown.

“You know what control is like,” Jonas said easily. “The left hand never knows what the right is doing.”

“Nevertheless, I'll have to check.” She paused and the sharp sound of a safety clicking off bit across the air. “Please come no closer, Doctor Hasham, or I will have to fire.”

Go, came Jonas's whispered order.

I lunged forward, grabbed the guard, and smashed his face against the blast door. His nose shattered and blood flew, and he made an odd sound that was part surprise, part pain. I repeated the blow, let him fall to the ground, and swung around. Jonas had disarmed the woman and had an arm wrapped around her throat.

“If you want to live, you’ll obey every order.” His tone was flat, emotionless, and all the more terrifying because of it. “Understood?”

The woman nodded, though she looked far from happy. But no matter how well she'd been trained, her skill set would never match his, even if they had been of equal size. He had the war and a hundred years of experience behind him. She did not.

He unclipped the comms from her ear and put it around his own. “What's your partner's call sign?”

“Seven-two.”

It was little more than a gasp. Jonas hadn't eased his hold on her any.

“Can you open this door?”

She nodded.

“Is it possible to switch off the

body scanner within the door?”