Z. Rex Read Free Page A

does, I’ll make him take me to Fort Ponil, security clearance or not. He can drop me in the street if he wants, but I’m going. . . .”
    His words sounded stupidly small in the big apartment.
    Suddenly, a tremor rattled the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. Weird, Adam thought. Even the biggest trucks turning into the industrial park didn’t normally shake the place like that.
    He crossed to the cupboard to get out a bowl for cereal, and noticed his mobile phone on the counter.
    One new message, it said, and the words jolted through Adam like fifty thousand volts. He grabbed the phone, saw his dad’s number, saw the text had been sent almost an hour ago. A mixture of relief and anger washed through him. “Nothing at all for ages, then you can’t even be bothered to call and—”
    Just as he was about to access the message, the TV switched off. Adam frowned. His digital clock had blinked off too. Maybe the tremor had taken out the local power supply. “Freakin’ fabulous,” Adam muttered. “That’s really going to make things dull around here. . . .”
    Then, as if laughing in his face, the tremor came again, much harder this time. It nearly knocked Adam off his feet. Was it an earthquake? Still holding the phone, he crossed quickly to the big picture window to check the street outside for damage. The apartment was two stories up, so if the building was about to collapse . . .
    But as he approached the tinted glass, Adam heard a harsh squeal of brakes. A large, dark car had lurched to a stop outside the entrance to the complex, the same Cadillac that had taken his dad what seemed like a lifetime ago. Five men in suits scrambled out of the car like their butts were on fire.
    One of them was Frankie Bateman. He wasn’t smiling now.
    Bit early, isn’t it? thought Adam, his heart quickening as he watched Bateman gesture to the other men as though snapping out orders. And why bring so many friends? Uneasy now, he looked back at his phone, called up Dad’s message—
    Suddenly the whole building lurched and he was thrown so hard against the window he cracked the pane. He dropped the phone. In a daze, he saw the men outside were pulling guns from their jackets and staring around wildly. They started firing into the air.
    Adam caught a glimpse of something dark and hazy, a fleeting shadow on reality. Then, impossibly, with a crushing boom of metal, the big black car collapsed in on itself, as if something huge and invisible had slammed on the roof with colossal force. The men in suits fired into the air, looking terrified. Another snatch of shadow movement and the crushed car went flying, rolling over and over in a suicide spin. It smashed into the entrance to the industrial park, buckling the metal gates, the crash of the impact drowning out the gunfire.
    Adam stared down at the sudden carnage, fixed to the spot with fright, trying to make sense of what was happening. What do those men think they’re they shooting at?
    That same moment, the window shattered over him and the wall spat plaster at his face. Shards of glass fell from Adam’s body and crunched under his sneakers as he snatched up the phone and bolted, terrified, to the other side of the apartment. Whether they mean to or not, he thought, they’re shooting at me! He made to dial 911—but hitting the floorboards must’ve jogged the phone’s battery. It had switched itself off. “Come on,” he muttered, stabbing at the on button. With the window gone, everything was suddenly so much louder, like the world had turned up its volume control.
    Even so, nothing prepared Adam for the roar.
    It was like an express train thundering past. A wild, unearthly howl that sent vibrations hurtling through his bones. Total panic took hold. Get out . You’ve got to get away . But the madness down below was all happening outside the front doors; he’d never get out that way. . . .
    Then Adam remembered the fire escape at the back of the building, an iron zigzag of