Wednesday, May 30

  Extraction Point

  Mission: Survive Again

  N/A

  “This is TF7. We have eyes on the targets—pursuing now. We need backup,” our pursuers called in.

  Ahead, a massive fountain rose from the plaza—bone-dry, but ringed by shallow pools. We darted past it.

  I glanced back just in time to see one of the agents vault skyward. Five purple bolts snapped from her wand and screamed toward us.

  “Down!” September shouted, throwing out a huge, slick-black shield.

  Violet explosions hammered the ground behind us as we ran, the shockwaves rattling my teeth.

  Up ahead, an office building sagged under curtains of spiderwebs. We crashed through the glass—and the moment we were inside, it became obvious it wasn’t an office at all.

  A hotel.

  Rusted furniture. Torn upholstery. Smoke-stained walls. The only mercy was the firelight—enough to make the lobby visible, enough to make the danger clearer.

  The two enemy agents leapt in after us, immediately firing again.

  September held her side.

  I grabbed the nearest table and launched it at one of the agents at breakneck speed, but—in a display of pure primate nonsense—he scrambled up and over it, spun his wand across the floor, and blasted a spray of wooden shards straight at me.

  I ripped a sofa off the ground and hurled it.

  He ducked, closing the distance fast.

  Then he called lightning down from above—dragging it toward me like a living rope.

  I sprang onto the nearest pillar, swung around him, and drove a brutal kick into his chest.

  He flew backward, smashing through the reception desk.

  I turned—only to get jump-scared by a TSA spy slamming into me out of nowhere.

  “Anywhere else would’ve been better,” I groaned, shoving him off as I staggered to my feet.

  “Like I was thinking about that,” September snapped—

  —and then a roar rose from outside.

  We both slowly turned.

  A car tore through the hotel wall at mach speed.

  “Whoa!” we shrieked.

  I launched upward and yanked September by the collar with me. Bolts chased us into the air and detonated on the roof where we’d been standing.

  We landed hard on the other side as the ceiling collapsed behind us into ash and splintered lumber.

  We sprinted out through the car-shaped hole—only to meet more resistance.

  Three agents, spread wide—one far left, one far right, one dead ahead—firing bolts upon bolts upon bolts.

  “Mother of—here. Take this shield,” September ordered. “Circle around me. Watch my twelve!”

  She tossed it to me, spun, and opened fire.

  The problem was: they weren’t going down fast enough—and I couldn’t just guard her back. I had to keep her front alive, too.

  “Here—take it!” I shouted, shoving the shield back into her hands.

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  She caught it without breaking stride, rotating like a turret while I spun with her—lasers blasting from my eyes.

  Explosions erupted, hurling the attackers into flaming wrecks.

  And then—

  A helicopter dropped into view like a nightmare with rotors.

  It jump-scared us from the sky.

  Orange bolts ripped downward.

  I couldn’t even remember what those bolts did.

  That terrified me more than the helicopter.

  “Come on! Come on!” September screamed.

  We ran for the next building, bursting inside—

  A saloon.

  Because of course it was.

  I didn’t know what checkpoint the YMPA thought this place was supposed to be, but they clearly didn’t care if anything made sense. It was about the vibe, I guess.

  The vibe was currently: getting obliterated.

  Orange bolts slammed into the saloon, blowing it apart chunk by chunk. Their impacts birthed lava—molten lines crawling across the floor like the building was bleeding fire.

  Panic spiked so sharply in my chest I couldn’t even swallow it.

  I screamed.

  Tables decomposed in seconds. The air stank of burnt wood and smoke. Heat licked my skin like it wanted to boil me.

  “Over there!” September shouted.

  I followed her pointing hand—stairs. Second floor.

  We bolted for them, thundering upward as lava swallowed the ground behind us.

  Upstairs was more of the same—tables, seats, a piano tucked in the corner like anyone was going to play it.

  I sucked in a shaking breath.

  “That shield,” I asked, blinking hard, “where’d you get it?”

  “MP,” she said, breathless. “Not the craziest thing, but way more useful than half the garbage they hand out.” She tapped a small button. “Hit this and—boom. It deploys.”

  I nodded—

  —and froze.

  A memory snapped into place: me buying that same weapon. That very special one. The one that cost, like, nineteen hundred MP.

  A grin tugged at my mouth.

  I looked down at the utility belt Fordross had given me, found a switch, and flicked it.

  In seconds, metal gears unfolded and slid into place along my arms and legs—locking, clicking, sealing.

  By the time it finished, I looked like a walking machine.

  September stared at me, unimpressed. “What am I looking at…?”

  “You don’t like it?” I asked, brow furrowed.

  “You look like a rejected superhero.”

  “I completely disagree—”

  The helicopter apparently agreed with her.

  Red bolts blasted through the roof.

  The top of the saloon vanished in a storm of smoke and splintered wood, glowing embers floating like fireflies.

  The rotor wash shoved at us so hard it felt like it could lift me off the floor.

  We stared up at the aircraft—face-to-face with death.

  “Let’s hope I read the manual right…” I muttered.

  September’s eyes went wide, fear tightening her whole expression.

  Using my Perk, I launched into the air.

  Panels opened along my arms.

  Missiles.

  I sailed over the helicopter and fired.

  The chopper tried to bank away, but comparing its speed to a missile is like comparing a cheetah to a grandma with a walker.

  The helicopter became a ball of fire—

  —and the blast turned the saloon into shards.

  My stomach dropped.

  “September!”

  I lunged through the smoke as she dangled in open air, arms reaching for something—anything.

  “No!” I screamed, stretching my hand out.

  Her eyes flicked wildly as I closed the gap—then her fingers latched onto my wrist in a desperate, crushing grip.

  I twisted the air beneath us into a spiraling whirlpool, forcing it to hold us up long enough—

  —and then a parachute snapped open behind us.

  We hit the ground hard.

  But we hit it alive.

  We rolled through ash and debris. I sucked in air—only to realize it was mostly smoke, and it burned all the way down.

  “What is wrong with you?” September coughed.

  “Sorry,” I wheezed, then laughed—because somehow that helped. Just a little.

  She shook her head, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling at her mouth. “They never should’ve made that available.”

  “Their loss,” I said. “Anyways, we need to—”

  An explosion cut me off.

  The force launched us sideways into another building.

  Glass shattered.

  We crashed through—my head slamming into a table so hard stars burst behind my eyes. September hit after me and broke the table in half.

  My skull felt like two people were swinging hammers inside it.

  I flexed my fingers. Pain throbbed through them. Blood spilled onto the floor.

  Half my face was soaked in it—hot and sticky—but my Perk shoved me up anyway, forcing strength into my legs.

  I looked around.

  A library.

  Old books trapped in dusty shelves, held together by webs like the place had been abandoned for a century.

  “September?” I called. “September?”

  I turned toward the wreckage.

  She was on all fours, groaning. Her arms shook. I scrambled to her, blinking away tears that wouldn’t stop gathering.

  I tried to lift her—careful, careful—like one wrong move could snap something that was already broken.

  Her face was mostly red.

  But her eyes were open.

  Moving.

  “September, can you hear me? September, can you—?”

  “Yeah… yeah…” she breathed. “Just—let me get my footing real quick…”

  “Footing?” I hissed. “What footing? Come on—come on—”

  “There he is!”

  I snapped my head up.

  An entire squad poured in—blasters and wands raised—wearing black tactical gear as they smashed through windows and slammed through doors.

  “Oh… God,” I whispered.

  I staggered to the nearest shelf and laid September against it. Her head lolled toward me.

  Hopelessness filled her eyes as blood kept running.

  “Listen,” she said, voice tight. “Director Chavez should be coming soon. Don’t worry about me. You keep yourself safe.”

  “Well, I can’t really… do anything to help you right now…”

  “Just stay alive.”

  I swallowed.

  Because even that was about to become harder than I wanted it to be.