flashlight hit the ground, it went out. Al hit the ground almost immediately after. He felt something snap, lots of somethings. Pain shot through him, lighting the night with false stars.
The thing bent over him and picked him up again. He might have been a child for all the burden he was to this monster. It shook him and something, something inside him, lanced through his chest. He choked as he flew through the air again. Something hard hit his back, and his face slammed into the gritty surface of the road. He smelled burned rubber.
Shit, he'd never make the race now.
The monster leaned over him, grinning to display yellowed teeth. It might have been Buzz Tadasuke bending over him, but for the foul breath. Couldn't be Buzz; sponsored types always had flower breath. A1 tried to spit in his eye, but his mouth was full of something that tasted metallic. Like blood.
No race tomorrow.
No race. No tomorrow.
No...
The monster hunched over the body, prodding it with a meaty, taloned finger. It grunted satisfaction. The monster rolled the man over on his back, tilting the head to one side and baring the neck. A deft slash of its claws opened the throat. Blood oozed up. Humming, the monster tugged its cap from its head, thrust the wool into the gore, and kneaded the fabric until it was thoroughly soaked. When the cap was fully impregnated with the man's blood, the monster held it up and croaked, "Be it so."
It stood up, pulling on the cap. For a moment it just stood there, twisting its head back and forth and snuffling. Undecided. Nym made herself very small. The monster shuffled off down the road. Nym waited until it was out of sight.
Then she waited some more.
At last she slipped both her arms into the straps of her knapsack and trotted to the bike. Mounting it, she tapped the instrument panel on. Everything showed ready. She put on the helmet. Kicking the engine to life, she throttled up and roared off.
An hour later, free of the fog, she turned on the headlamp.
Part 1
WE COME TO THE CRUX
7
9
13
23
WE COME TO THE CRUX
CHAPTER
I
John tapped in the entry code and mashed his thumb against the recognition plate. Nothing happened, so he wiped the plate with his sleeve and tried again. This time the sensor registered his thumbprint and the mechanism gave its usual annoyed buzz, acknowledging his right to enter. Security could be such a pain.
He could have entered Benjamin Harrison Town Project Rezcom Cluster 3 through the commercial entrance and avoided beeping his own way in, but that would have meant a walk around half the building, a waste of the shortcut up the hill through the park zone. He opened the inner door, waited his habitual half-second, and walked in and across the hall to the elevators. A glance at the mail dispenser showed the light on the Reddy box dark. Either nothing had come today or his mom had already cleaned it out. He hoped that it was the latter. He punched the call button, wishing for the car's instant arrival.
A soft chuffing noise announced the arrival of the lobby's cleaning 'bot. The toaster-sized cart wheeled out of its dark alcove and headed straight for John's muddy footprints. It gurgled happily to itself as it spit out soapy water and buffed the tile back to its original luster. Print by print, it advanced on him. When it was two away, he deliberately made a wall of fresh prints around himself. He hated the way the thing whined and hung around when it ran out of dirt on the floor and could still sense the mud on your shoes. He hoped the elevator would arrive before the 'bot finished with his impromptu defense.
It did.
John escaped the deranged and almost certainly dangerous 'bot with an astonishingly agile leap into the waiting car. He landed in a crouch, then rose on one toe, turning as he did. His jacket spread out around him like a swirling cloak. Without pause, he snapped a single finger out to spear the desired button as it flashed past. He stopped, facing out the transparent
The thing bent over him and picked him up again. He might have been a child for all the burden he was to this monster. It shook him and something, something inside him, lanced through his chest. He choked as he flew through the air again. Something hard hit his back, and his face slammed into the gritty surface of the road. He smelled burned rubber.
Shit, he'd never make the race now.
The monster leaned over him, grinning to display yellowed teeth. It might have been Buzz Tadasuke bending over him, but for the foul breath. Couldn't be Buzz; sponsored types always had flower breath. A1 tried to spit in his eye, but his mouth was full of something that tasted metallic. Like blood.
No race tomorrow.
No race. No tomorrow.
No...
The monster hunched over the body, prodding it with a meaty, taloned finger. It grunted satisfaction. The monster rolled the man over on his back, tilting the head to one side and baring the neck. A deft slash of its claws opened the throat. Blood oozed up. Humming, the monster tugged its cap from its head, thrust the wool into the gore, and kneaded the fabric until it was thoroughly soaked. When the cap was fully impregnated with the man's blood, the monster held it up and croaked, "Be it so."
It stood up, pulling on the cap. For a moment it just stood there, twisting its head back and forth and snuffling. Undecided. Nym made herself very small. The monster shuffled off down the road. Nym waited until it was out of sight.
Then she waited some more.
At last she slipped both her arms into the straps of her knapsack and trotted to the bike. Mounting it, she tapped the instrument panel on. Everything showed ready. She put on the helmet. Kicking the engine to life, she throttled up and roared off.
An hour later, free of the fog, she turned on the headlamp.
Part 1
WE COME TO THE CRUX
7
9
13
23
WE COME TO THE CRUX
CHAPTER
I
John tapped in the entry code and mashed his thumb against the recognition plate. Nothing happened, so he wiped the plate with his sleeve and tried again. This time the sensor registered his thumbprint and the mechanism gave its usual annoyed buzz, acknowledging his right to enter. Security could be such a pain.
He could have entered Benjamin Harrison Town Project Rezcom Cluster 3 through the commercial entrance and avoided beeping his own way in, but that would have meant a walk around half the building, a waste of the shortcut up the hill through the park zone. He opened the inner door, waited his habitual half-second, and walked in and across the hall to the elevators. A glance at the mail dispenser showed the light on the Reddy box dark. Either nothing had come today or his mom had already cleaned it out. He hoped that it was the latter. He punched the call button, wishing for the car's instant arrival.
A soft chuffing noise announced the arrival of the lobby's cleaning 'bot. The toaster-sized cart wheeled out of its dark alcove and headed straight for John's muddy footprints. It gurgled happily to itself as it spit out soapy water and buffed the tile back to its original luster. Print by print, it advanced on him. When it was two away, he deliberately made a wall of fresh prints around himself. He hated the way the thing whined and hung around when it ran out of dirt on the floor and could still sense the mud on your shoes. He hoped the elevator would arrive before the 'bot finished with his impromptu defense.
It did.
John escaped the deranged and almost certainly dangerous 'bot with an astonishingly agile leap into the waiting car. He landed in a crouch, then rose on one toe, turning as he did. His jacket spread out around him like a swirling cloak. Without pause, he snapped a single finger out to spear the desired button as it flashed past. He stopped, facing out the transparent
Similar Books
Echobeat
Joe Joyce
Slide Job (Cameron Motorsports)
Sutton Fox
Zombie Surf Commandos from Mars!
Tony Abbott
Bishop's Angel
Tory Richards
Dry Bones
Margaret Mayhew
Peter and Alice
John Logan
Thursday's Children
Nicci French
Durbar
Tavleen Singh
Pursuing Paige
Anya Bast
The Judas Strain
James Rollins