Hodges was back on shore. He shoved the boat deeper into the water and hooked his leg over the bow. “That ought to do it.”
“No,” the Warden with the optic said.
Glass shattered inside the apartment, and Andy grunted in frustration. “Stop fighting! One way or another, you’re going to give me what I want.”
The Warden grasped the last set of optics and twisted the knob. The device emitted a high-pitched whine and then fell silent. He frowned and fiddled with the knob, trying to get the device to turn back on. As he did, a second craft moved alongside the first. This one was larger, heavier, with twin .50 caliber machine guns mounted to a turret at the top. Nine Wardens moved across its deck.
“The time has come,” one of the newly arrived Wardens said.
“We must go,” another finished for him.
The thermal optics whined again, but this time the whine was followed by a small pop. The Warden looked into the lens and said, “No.”
At last, the Warden with the binoculars turned his attention away from Jarrod. He glanced at Hodges and shouted. “Conscript, move to the Newburg Bridge by any means necessary. You will be part of its defense.” Then, pivoting, he nodded at the man at the stern. The engine roared to life, and the forty-foot vessel began to move.
A slap in the apartment, harder than the first, and Andy’s voice. “I’m not a bad person, Lisa. I don’t enjoy hitting women. Quit making me hurt you and calm down.”
The moment the Wardens turned away, Jarrod was on the move. His feet dug into the ground with every powerful stride; he circled the apartment building and crashed through the front door. With a leap, he cleared the interior stairway and shoved his way into Lisa’s apartment.
Acrid scents of fear, rage, lust, and disgust hung in the air. Jarrod bounded over a couch and entered a small bedroom, shaping the metamaterial on his fingers into long spikes as he went.
Andy was gripping Lisa by her hair, trying to lift her onto the bed, but she was twisting back and forth and kicking her feet.
Jarrod wasted no time. He lurched forward and clamped his hand down on Andy’s scalp, forcing his talons deep into the man’s brain.
Andy’s jaw went slack, and his eyes rolled up into his head. His hand unfurled, and Lisa’s hair slipped through his fingers.
She dropped to the floor, pivoted onto her back, and kicked him in the groin. But he didn’t react. He stood there, limp, and slowly curled over backward. Lisa blinked her tears away and watched, awestruck, as Andy’s lifeless body was dragged away by an unseen force.
23
Baltimore, Maryland
Phenomenal. Absolutely phenomenal.
Henry Napp placed his hands on his hips. He stood atop the charred remains of Eugene’s black SUV, watching the woman perform a magnificent ballet of death and pain. A Warden holding a brick tried to bring it crashing down on Janson, but her movements were so fast that he missed entirely and pitched the brick against the ground. Another Warden aimed a pistol at her chest from only a few feet away and pulled the trigger. But she had moved aside before the weapon’s hammer could fall, and the bullet struck the Warden who had wielded the brick.
She was making a fool of his Wardens, his kin, which brought him no pleasure at all. Every attack she evaded was another small disappointment, but he reveled in the damage she inflicted. She was like a savage bear surrounded by mice, knocking them into the air with a single blow and pulverizing their skulls beneath her feet. It was so magnificent, he could watch her all day, and in fact he had watched for nearly thirty minutes. But there were greater pleasures to be had in the corridors far below the street; the coming of the new order could not be delayed any longer.
Peeling his gaze away from the bloody spectacle, he gave a hand signal to a small group of Wardens armed with high-caliber rifles. They nodded, entered a squat building, and made their way to the rooftop to gain a better firing position.
But before they get their rifles into position, Janson suddenly seized one of the Wardens by the leg and began spinning him in a circle. She pitched him into the swirling mob, clearing a small patch of ground, and she used the space to build momentum and crash through the wall of attackers.
“After her!” Napp shouted, pointing at Janson’s back. The woman bounced and spun through the crowd like a deer weaving between trees. Anyone who tried to stand in her way was left grasping at empty air.
“She can’t run forever,” Napp shouted. “Surround her. Bring her to her knees!”
The Wardens were officially pissed—it was time for phase two. Janson lowered her shoulder and knocked one aside, hitting him hard enough to hear his ribs crack. The impact robbed enough of her momentum to allow a second Warden to latch onto her leg. Grimacing, she leaned forward, shook him off, and plowed through two more. They fell, but not hard enough to take them out of the fight. Janson was losing steam, and she prayed for the stamina to reach the garage.
Someone swung a steel pipe at her face; she shifted her hips and it whistled through the air inches from her nose. Definitely getting slow, she thought. Her right hand shot out like a python, seizing the pipe before it could complete its arc. She ripped it from the man’s grasp and spread her arms wide. Then, using the crowbar and the steel pipe, she hacked through the crowd as if cutting her way through a rainforest.
At last, she was making progress again. Ten more steps, and she would be at the edge of the clawing mass of Wardens. Ten more steps beyond that, and she could send them straight to hell.
The muscles in her legs and shoulders begged for her to stop, but she kept going, promising herself that she could rest when she was dead.
You’re almost there. Cut a few more of them down and—
“Now!” a voice bellowed, interrupting her thoughts. “Open fire!”
The copper-jacketed bullet traveled twice the speed of sound and struck Janson’s right shoulder a half-second before she heard the shot. Her armor stopped the round and dispersed the impact, but it still felt like being struck from behind with a hammer. She toppled forward, trying and failing to catch her balance. The pavement rushed up to meet her, and in an instant three Wardens had piled on top of her. The man on the bottom clawed at her face, trying to pull her mask away. She whipped the steel pipe over her shoulder and heard a crack. The hand on her face fell limp, and she smelled the metallic scent of blood.
More Wardens threw themselves onto the pile, forcing the air from Janson’s lungs. Her muscles, already starved of oxygen, sapped her reserves, and her thoughts became sluggish.
You tried, said an inner voice that sounded like her own. You put up a good fight. It’s okay to rest now, to let go.
Janson’s lids fluttered over her black eyes. The darkness closed in, and she gave a tiny nod. This was a good death—a noble death. It was better than she deserved, so she might as well accept it.
But as the world turned black, she suddenly saw a man’s face in full, vivid color.
Clint. She reached for the face. Clint, I’m coming.
But the man scowled at her. “Like hell you are. You had a plan, and you need to see it through. Get your ass up, Elizabeth, and finish it.”
I…I can’t…
Clint’s eyes burned into her. “They’re counting on you, Elizabeth. Now, move!”