The back door, previously padlocked, stands open.
Pressing my shoulder to the outside wall just to the side of the door, I tilt my head and cup my ear, listening for anything at all. There is a humming sound of electricity in the walls but nothing else. No footsteps, no shallow breaths.
I slide through the doorway and inside.
“Wick?” I call out softly, but there is no reply.
If he’s here, he’s dead.
My defenses are on alert as I come around the corner. It’s dark and silent; I still hear nothing. It’s such a small building, I should be able to hear something. Wick should be here in this area. Even if he’s in hiding, I should have some sense of him, but there’s nothing to detect.
I open my mouth slightly and inhale slowly. The smell and taste of blood is faint but detectable. I follow the scent through a small doorway and into a storage closet full of electronic equipment in various states of disrepair. I find Taylor Wick’s body shoved between two shelves. There’s a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead, but the bruising around the rest of his face tells me his death wasn’t that quick.
Isaac knew where I would be, and the route has been traced back here. If they found Taylor Wick and questioned him before killing him, they may have discovered my point of origin.
“Riley.”
Chapter 27
I sprint at top speed from the service station to the small town of Marra. I never slow down, and I take the straightest trajectory to my destination. When I arrive, the town looks deserted. Even at this late hour, someone should be out and about, but I see no one. Every structure’s windows are dark, and there is no one on the streets.
I run through the center of town instead of skirting around the outside. I keep to the shadows of buildings, knowing I’m far more exposed, but Riley is in danger, and I can’t let anything delay getting to her side. I need to know that she’s safe. I need to be there to protect her.
As I approach the house, my skin prickles with gooseflesh. The feeling is deeper than just a notion that someone is watching me. I don’t know how much is blocked by the chip in my neck, but something is getting through.
There are other specimens in the area.
Inhaling deeply, I smell a strong scent of diesel fuel though I can’t see any trucks or anything in the areas that would use it. No one is visible from the outside of the house, but I can see lights on inside through the drawn curtains. I can’t tell if there’s movement or not, so I inch up until I can get a better look.
In the front room, Riley stands against the wall with one of the soldiers positioned slightly in front of her, protectively. It’s the same man who said he’d look out for her while I was gone. They’re facing one of the other soldiers, who points a handgun at them.
In the distance, I hear helicopters.
“Fuck.”
I slam open the front door, and see Riley and the soldiers jump at the noise.
“Galen!” she calls as she starts to head toward me.
Before he can react, I grab the man with the gun, and smack it from his hand. He barely resists me. There’s something about the look in the traitor’s eyes that doesn’t sit well with me. He’s not a man looking to win—he knows he’s going to die. He’s just trying to delay us long enough for the others to arrive. I grab his neck and twist until I hear it crack. He falls to the floor, where I notice the bodies of the other two soldiers.
“We have to get out!” I yell at her. “They’re coming.”
“They’re here.” I look to the soldier closest to Riley as he steadies himself and heads for the door. “You two get out.”
“Get to the back door, Riley!” I yell.
Riley nods and heads farther into the gutted house toward the metal door that leads to the back room and then outside. The helicopters are landing in the front of the house, and I can hear the sound of boots as they hit the ground. A second later, the front door flies open, and people star to pour inside.
“Go!” the soldier yells. A moment later, shots ring out, and he falls to the ground.
“Riley—move!” I yell, and she picks up her pace as I start to head in her direction.
There are fifteen of them, three of which are specimens. They carry their rifles at the ready. I’m still twenty feet from Riley, and there are too many of them to fight in such close quarters without a weapon.
Riley struggles with the latch on the door but can’t open it. She’s panicked, and her fingers are fumbling. I press the balls of my feet against the floor, propelling myself toward her so I can get the door open.
All at once, the soldiers raise their weapons, gun down the Carson soldiers, and then aim at Riley and me.