The hallucination vanished, leaving her alone in the darkness. But as she stared into the void, pain began to return to her back, her chest, and her hands. Then, pinholes of light cut through the black curtain, and she took a ragged breath.
All at once, her vision returned to normal. She was staring down at her hands, which were pressed flat against the blood-soaked pavement. Her arms shook violently as she pressed with all of her might until a thin gap appeared between her chest and the street.
Sucking in a deep breath through her teeth, she let out a scream and thrust her back against the Wardens.
All at once, the weight fell away, and she was on her feet. A pile of Wardens lay on the ground behind her, writhing and grunting as they fought to untangle themselves.
Wrinkling her nose, Janson kicked one of them in the face before turning around and running toward the parking garage. More rifle rounds cut through the air around her head, but she managed to make it to cover without taking another hit.
The smell of gasoline and diesel fuel was stronger than ever, stinging her nose and burning her lungs. She glanced over her shoulder as she rounded the ramp to the second level—at least fifty Wardens were close behind, and hundreds more were entering the garage.
“That’s it,” she wheezed. “Come and get me.”
By the time she reached the fifth level, she was starting to worry that she might not make it all the way to the top without collapsing. But one of the Wardens grabbed at her arm and tried to pull her down, and the burst of adrenaline was enough to help her push through.
She kept ahead of her pursuers all the way to the edge of the top level. Beneath her, the entire structure shook with the weight of bloodthirsty Wardens.
The blowtorch lay on its side, and she scooped it up a moment before she reached the concrete barriers at the edge of the roof.
Her instincts shrieked at her to stop, but she ignored them. Placing one hand on the concrete barrier, she vaulted over the top and plummeted to the ground.
There was a flash of white followed by crippling pain in her legs and arms. She bit her tongue and moaned out loud, doing everything she could to stay conscious.
The blowtorch had landed a few feet away, and she reached out for it with a trembling hand.
High above, Wardens were leaning over the edge and pointing down at her. Though every movement sent lightning bolts of pain through her limbs, Janson twisted the nozzle on the blowtorch, clicked the igniter, and watched the blue flame appear.
The parking garage was thundering once more with the sound of retreating Wardens. There was no time. She had to do it now.
Cocking her arm back, she pitched the blowtorch into the garage. It landed a few feet away from a puddle of gasoline, rolled, and…
The bottom level erupted into blue and yellow flames. The fire climbed trickling streams of fuel and floating clouds of vapor to the second level, then the third.
The agonized wails of the Wardens reached her ears, and Janson let her head sink against the ground.
It was over. Her injuries wouldn’t allow her to continue the fight, and she was glad for it. She had done her best to spit in Borya’s face, and she was proud.
A man hit the ground beside her. He kicked and screamed, grasping at his face even while his body burned.
His lungs, Janson thought. The fire had entered his lungs. She wished she could put him out of his misery, but her arms refused to move. He writhed in pain for nearly two minutes before finding solace in death.
Janson closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of the fire and the sporadic thumps of gasoline pockets igniting. Then, beneath the roar of the flames, she heard the crunch of gravel under heavy feet.
Janson opened her eyes and found a man with a half-mutilated face staring down at her.
“Well,” he said, bending at the waist, “you’ve been a complete pain in my ass.” He studied her for a moment, then he drew a pistol from his belt holster and pressed the barrel against her forehead. “Which will make killing you that much sweeter.”
Janson raised her chin and stared into his eye, unblinking, as his finger slid into place and pulled the trigger.
24
Nearly an hour of silence was broken by the sound of scraping concrete. Eugene opened his eyes and glanced at the far end of the corridor. His back was resting against the wall, and his feet were propped up on a box of .30-06 ammunition. He lifted one heel off of the ammo can and then the other. “It’s about time.” He glanced at Yuri. “If you’re going to barge into someone’s house and murder them, it’s not polite to keep them waiting.”
The team medic arched an eyebrow. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Eugene stretched both arms above his head and looked around. The hallway was as fortified as he could hope for, under the circumstances. The team had used the last of Nicole’s explosives to break open the steel doors on a weapons closet and a conference room. They arranged the doors, two steel tables, and a steel desk in a staggered pattern to provide cover in the narrow space, and they’d piled the chairs in front of the stairwell to slow down the Afflicted once they breached the entrance.
A crowded hallway wasn’t an ideal battleground for anyone, but Eugene was glad to be in a defensive position. The attackers would be funneled through the doorway one by one, tripping over chairs and eventually the bodies of their comrades while Eugene and his team hid behind solid steel barricades.
Even so, he had no illusion that he would survive the coming onslaught. But when death was a foregone conclusion, what was the point in worrying about it?
More chunks of concrete grated together, and dust puffed into the corridor by the stairwell. Eugene rested the barrel of his rifle on the steel desk and nodded at Kacen. “I bet you twenty bucks that I drop more of these psychos than you do. And I’ll even give you a five second head-start.”
Kacen grinned and checked his rifle to make sure a round was chambered. “Easy money. You’re on.”
Nicole stacked a pile of magazines next to her firing position behind a steel table. “And what do I get if I kill more than either of you?”
Eugene shook his head. “You’re a girl. Girls don’t get to play.”
She scowled at him. “I’m not a girl, I’m a woman. And you’re just afraid I’m going to win.”
Yuri sighed and fiddled with the zippers on his medical kit. “Do we have to treat this like it’s a game?”
All three of his teammates looked back at him and replied in unison. “Yes.”
He held up his hands. “Sorry I asked.”
Something heavy thumped against the door to the stairwell, and everyone fell silent for a moment. Then Eugene said, “Fine, you can play, Nicole, but you aren’t allowed to count rifle kills. Only knife kills.”
“What? That isn’t fair.”
“Yes it is.”
“How is that fair?”
The door creaked, and a tiny gap appeared at the inside seam.
Eugene peered into his optic. “Because you were Mossad. And everyone knows that Mossad agents are—”
Kacen’s rifle thundered as he took the first shot. Blood splattered through the thin gap in the doorway, and the creaking stopped.
“That’s one,” Kacen said.
“No way,” Eugene protested. “You don’t know. Maybe you just shot a tomato.”