Dark Rising

THIRTY-NINE

Alex came out of the room with a face as hard as a tablet of stone. There was blood on his sleeve and he could feel a deep anger burning within him. Not because of the merciful act of execution he had just performed, but directed at the people who had first caused that poor man’s terrible injuries and then kept him alive, imprisoned and wallowing in his own filth. This black-hole technology is not a good thing for any country to possess, he thought.

He made a small twirling motion in the air and pointed back to the doorway they had first come through. The HAWCs immediately holstered their weapons and headed silently and quietly for the exit. The second floor was clear, so there was less need for caution and more for speed. Sam grabbed Zach and pulled him along.

As the HAWCs rounded the final bend in the corridor, there they were, pouring from the elevator – the ten Takavaran that had been assigned to sweep this floor for the intruders. They fanned out to cover the stairwell exit door as well, then stopped as they saw the Americans.

Time seemed to stretch as surprise momentarily froze both forces. Under Alex’s command, the HAWCs reacted first. He ordered them to charge the exit rather than retreat the way they had come – they couldn’t afford to get trapped and bogged down in a firefight on this floor.

As the HAWCs streaked towards the door, the Takavaran drew their weapons and sped to meet them. None of them bothered to call the contact in.

Lagudi was through the door first, then Sam – with Zachariah under his arm to make sure he kept up with them – followed by O’Riordan, who stopped briefly to hold the door ajar for Alex and a lagging Adira.

Adira was quick but she couldn’t match the HAWCs for speed. She was gaining on the doorway when a bullet struck her high in the shoulder. Her armour plating protected her from the penetrative force of the projectile but not its energy. She was lifted sideways and thrown into the wall, striking it with her cheek. She fell to the ground, not unconscious, but groggy and disorientated.

Alex yelled to Sam to secure their climb to the next floor up, then knelt beside Adira. He lifted his gun and fired twice as the entire Takavaran squad filled the corridor. Two bullets, two head strikes, two down, but a third man had thrown an incendiary grenade. For Alex, time slowed as he watched the dull metal canister approach through the air in a lazy somersault.

He calculated his options: he knew where the grenade was going to fall, he knew how much time he had until it detonated and also how long it would take him to get to the explosive. He could see the Takavaran from the corner of his eye, either flattening themselves against the wall of the corridor with guns drawn, or retreating from the blast radius. Alex absorbed all the information and knew he could not neutralise the grenade and still keep Adira covered from gunfire while she was stirring groggily on the corridor floor. He made his decision.

In a single lightning move, he picked up Adira, hugged her to his chest and wrapped one large arm around her head and ears. The other arm he threw over the back of his own head, which he dipped as far as it could go below the heavily shielded back and shoulders of his suit. He leaned into the wall, bracing himself and presenting only his armoured upper body to the Takavaran and the small explosive. He felt the bullets thud into the plates across his spine – each powerful blow making him grit his teeth with pain and anger. He felt a door opening within him – and a voice that sounded like his own screamed from its depths.

The blast erupted. Alex’s back and neck were smashed with thousands of pounds of percussive blast and scorched by a boiling plume of orange and white flame. He could feel the plating and specially strengthened material of his suit separate and begin to burn, but he didn’t care. He was alive and so was Adira – for now. He knew that he had only a few seconds before the smoke cleared and the Takavaran would once again have them in their sights. He could not protect Adira forever, and another blast, even closer, would finish them both.

Alex guessed the Takavaran would think there were no survivors – how could there be after the proximity of the explosion. For a few seconds he still had the element of surprise. My turn, he thought.

He pulled his weapon from its holster and took one of Adira’s from hers, then he turned to the smoke-filled tunnel. His enhanced vision picked out the images of the Iranian Special Forces soldiers clearly even though he was still invisible to them. He laid Adira down, and as he did he noticed that his arms were shaking – not from fear or from the strain but from the rage that was building in him. He needed to focus and release it – now.

The Iranians moved cautiously into the centre of the corridor, some reholstering their weapons. With the flaps of his shredded and smoking suit billowing up behind him Alex came out of the smoke like a flaming juggernaut. Two Takavaran went down with precise bullet wounds before they had even closed their mouths from the surprise, and then Alex was among them, using his guns as clubs to crush their skulls and break their bodies like kindling.

Of the ten Takavaran that had entered level two, soon only four remained. Their retreat was panicked and wildly disorganised as they scattered along the corridor. One man stood his ground and fired at Alex, but his shots had no chance of hitting the lightning-quick HAWC.

Alex pursued the fleeing men, snatching up the firing Takavaran as he went and launching him spear-like at the backs of the running soldiers. The flying body slammed into a steel door just as the last three men passed through it, leaving a small dent and a large red streak on the metal.

Alex covered the ground to the closed door in seconds, then stopped, his hand resting on the steel handle. Wait! He couldn’t follow them, even though his rage was driving him to track them down and obliterate them. He could not indulge in his bloodlust while his mission was incomplete. He struck the door with his closed fist, leaving another dent in the steel and causing a booming clang that echoed along the corridor. He inhaled deeply and exhaled through clenched teeth. His breathing and heart rate were returning to normal. He planted a spider on the doorframe and sped back to where he had left Adira.

Halfway back he almost collided with Sam.

‘No time for sightseeing, boss,’ Sam joked. ‘Next floor up is where we need to be.’

Sam was trying to keep his cool, but Alex was a vision from hell – his suit was burned and tattered, and the ceramic plating across his back was completely gone. The front of his suit was intact, but the chest and abdomen plates were scarred and pitted from shrapnel and bullet impacts.

Alex looked briefly down the corridor and Sam noticed the skin on his neck was pink and raw. His forearms were wet with blood, and his eyes glowed out of a thickly blood-streaked face. None of it appeared to be his.

‘We’ve got Ms Senesh,’ Sam went on. ‘Other than a headache and swollen cheek, she’s going to be fine. She said she wants her gun back.’

Alex laughed humourlessly. ‘Just introducing myself to our hosts, Uncle. They didn’t seem happy to see us.’

Alex reloaded his pistol and reholstered it, then stuck Adira’s Barak into his belt. He looked down at his bloody hands and wiped them roughly on his pants. Sam pulled his gun-cleaning cloth from a pocket, handed it to him and said, ‘Face.’

Alex took the cloth and wiped it over his eyes. When he opened them again, they were still dark and grim, the pupils fully dilated – Sam could tell Alex’s miraculous chemistry was fully charged.

‘All right, soldier,’ Alex said, ‘I guess we’ve announced we’re here. Time to show them some war.’

Around the bend of the corridor an explosion sounded. Alex looked over his shoulder. ‘Always liked spiders,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

Irish O’Riordan draped an arm around Adira’s shoulders as she sat forward and sipped water. With a damp cloth he wiped the blood from a graze on her cheek. He quickly looked around to see if anyone was watching or listening. ‘You’re okay,’ he said. ‘Took a heavy knock, but the cheekbone’s fine and I don’t think there’s any concussion. I got some painkillers.’

She shook her head and slowly got to her feet, still leaning on him for support.

O’Riordan looked over to where Rocky and Zach were checking the stairwell and whispered to her, ‘Thanks, Ms Senesh, for… ahh

… pullin’ me out down in them caves back there. Look, I don’t know what happened, but the guys said you stopped that thing from makin’ me shish-kebab -’

She put her hand up to stop him speaking. ‘You would do the same for me. We are more alike than you think, Francis Irish O’Riordan.’

Irish felt his face go hot. He just nodded.