Burn (12 page)

“Congers has the scanner in his vehicle,” my mom says loudly, peering out the back window, where we can see his SUV barreling toward us. “He needs to get into the tun—”

Her words are drowned out by another explosion. One of the Core vehicles behind us spins into the air like a toy, flames shooting from the windows. It comes down with a crash onto the road, blocking the progress of Congers’s vehicle and the truck carrying the wreckage. With SUVs clustered on either side of the road, Congers and Race are boxed in and won’t be able to get to the tunnel. They’re caught out in the open, and the obelisk-shaped Sicarii ship is right on top of them. I shout for Sung to stop and let me out, but he shoots into the tunnel with single-minded purpose. He goes about a hundred yards and ignores at least five of my commands to halt before he applies the brakes. By that time, I’m made of adrenaline, every muscle jacked. The scanner. They’re going to get the scanner. As soon as we’ve slowed, I throw the door open. Christina grabs my wrist, but I tear my arm away.

“I won’t let them have it,” I snap as the passenger door sends sparks off the stone wall of the tunnel. Sung notices that I’m getting out and finally lurches to a complete stop, but before he does, I’m gone, sprinting back toward the fiery glow that makes my stomach twist.

About a dozen vehicles have made it into the tunnel, and agents are pouring out of them, pulling grenade launchers and firing questions at one another as they make their way back toward the tunnel entrance. “Don’t let that ship land!” I shout as I shove into their midst. If the Sicarii get the wreckage or the scanner, we could be doomed. My legs propel me past at least four SUVs, but the press of agents on either side slows me down, so I jump on top of one of the SUVs and go right down the row, leaping from roof to roof, desperate to get to my dad’s invention, to do anything I can to stop these alien bastards from killing our chances of saving ourselves and our planet.

The explosions from outside shake rocky debris loose from the roof of the tunnel, pelting my shoulders and head with shards of stone. That Sicarii ship is taking out the SUVs one by one as the agents try to respond with fire of their own, everything from sidearms to grenade launchers. From behind me, someone calls my name, maybe my mom, but I keep going. There’s a wrecked SUV in the middle of the road about twenty yards from the tunnel entrance, flames eating it alive. I swear, I can see a black silhouette inside, human and helpless. Or maybe H2. It doesn’t seem to matter as the fire turns flesh to sooty carbon nothing. But just beyond it is my destination—through the smoke, I can see Congers’s heat-warped silhouette as he leaps from his vehicle.

“Tate!” It’s my mom, only a few cars behind me. I glance over my shoulder as I jump from the roof of the final SUV in the line. My mom pushes her dark hair out of her eyes and points upward. “The Black Box defenses will be triggered if the scout ship flies above the edge of the crater rim! The ship is too low and too close to the mountainside right now!”

“I got it, Mom. Get deeper inside the tunnel.” Without waiting to see if she listens to me, I scramble to the metal doors that mark the entrance of the tunnel. Heat bathes my face as I peer up the steep hill. At least two hundred feet above me, the rock gives way to sky. If Mom’s right, reinforcements are available—as long as I can get the Sicarii to fly a little higher.

The obelisk ship is just above the leafy branches, spinning this way and that to avoid the rocket-propelled grenades that are going off like fireworks, setting fire to the forest. Congers and Race are beside their vehicle, shielding their eyes from the explosions all around them as they try to direct a group of agents—including Devon, the weak-chinned guy who was dying to know where Black Box was—who are pinned down near a cluster of trees nearby. Devon makes like he wants to run toward Race and Congers, but they shout at him and the others to get to the tunnel.

I stay low and sprint toward the burning vehicle that stands between me and the scanner. We have to get the device into the tunnel, where the obelisk ship can’t follow. If the Sicarii wanted to destroy it, this would all be over, but since they haven’t fired on Congers’s vehicle, I have to believe they somehow know it’s in there—and that they want it.

That’s going to work to our advantage. I sprint for Race’s vehicle as the agents at the tunnel entrance fire a furious volley at the hovering ship. It spins gracefully, dodging the projectiles, but doesn’t move lower. Its spiraling hatch slowly opens, and Race shouts and waves to his men, all urgency and noise. As I run toward him, I catch the desperation in his eyes. He cares for his agents. He doesn’t want them to die.

But when the Sicarii ship lets loose, there’s not a thing he can do. The hellish ball of bright yellow fire shoots from that hatch and roars over my head, hitting right at the tunnel entrance. Agonized screams fill the air as I’m thrown forward by the blast wave. I push myself off the soft, leaf-strewn dirt, my ears ringing, my heart pounding, and stumble around SUV wreckage to get to Congers and Race, whose brow furrows when he sees me. “Get away from here,” he roars.

“They want the scanner!”

“And we’re defending it!” Congers shouts, even as he hefts a grenade launcher onto his shoulder.

Not enough. It’s only a matter of time before the Core can’t hold that ship back. “Diversion,” I say to Race, right in his ear, shielding my mouth just in case the Sicarii can somehow read lips. Hell, they found us here and they know where the scanner is, so I wouldn’t put it past them. “When I go, get the device up your shirt and run for the tunnel.”

His face crumples in confusion. “When you go . . . what?”

I ignore him and dive into the vehicle, frantically looking around for what I need. Then my eyes light on the stereo. As a boom outside tells me Congers has fired his grenade, I remove the plastic cover and pry off the black rectangular ring that protects the edges of the stereo itself. I duck outside again and rip the Swiss army knife from Congers’s belt. He doesn’t seem to notice because he’s so busy reloading his weapon. The obelisk ship is only about thirty feet overhead, firing deep, percussive blasts at the few SUVs that haven’t been destroyed. Everything is burning. Bodies are scattered near tree trunks and beside flaming vehicles. Survivors like Devon have nowhere to run now, because smoke is billowing from the tunnel. I have no idea if anyone in there—including my mother, Christina, and Leo—is still alive, but I have to make this stop. I want that ship to
burn.
If it’s killed the last few people I love, this is about more than survival—it’s about revenge. I duck back into the SUV and try to steady my shaking hand as I run the knife around the edge of the stereo, feeling the metal catches give one by one. My blunt fingernails chip and give as I pry the block of metal and plastic from its slot.

I’m praying that the Sicarii don’t know what the scanner actually looks like.

I tuck the stereo against my chest and slide outside again. My fingers clamp onto Race’s shoulder. “I’m going to draw them away,” I say, leaning close. “When I’ve got their attention, get the scanner to the tunnel.”

“No,” he says, reaching for my arm, but he’s too slow. I’m already ten feet from the road, hurdling burning debris that singes my legs and fills my nose with acrid fumes. I push all my fears away as I dodge and weave through the trees, their leafy canopies aflame, sparks and ash raining down. The mountain looms to my right, steep and menacing, and I peer through the smoky haze, looking for a route to the top. Blinking, I pause in a spot between two trees and turn toward the obelisk, which already seems to be tracking me. I make an obvious sort of movement with my arms, cradling the stereo protectively as the brutally elegant silhouette of the silver ship blocks out the sun. A thrill of grim pleasure shimmies through me when I realize it’s slowly moving toward me.

Perfect.

But only if I’m fast enough. Only if I’m strong enough. I run through the trees, farther away from the tunnel entrance, to a spot where I can get a foothold. I shove the stereo into the back of my pants as I sprint—I need both hands if I want to make it to the top.

I’m only a few feet from the cliff face when someone crashes into me from behind. My forehead slams against stone. I’m ripped away from the wall of rock a second later, arms flailing. Hard fingers tear at the back of my shorts and shirt, and I pivot, smashing my foot into my attacker’s knee. He roars and lets go of me, but when I turn to face him, he’s already raised his gun.

It’s Devon, grimacing as he shifts his weight to his uninjured leg. His gaze darts up to the ship overhead and then returns to me. “Surrender the device,” he says calmly.

I try to swallow, but my mouth is so goddamn dry. I hold my hands out to the side and slowly reach for the stereo that’s jammed under my waistband. “How long have you been inside that agent’s body?”

Devon tilts his head and gives me a quizzical look. “I don’t want to kill you. Give me the device.”

I glance toward the tunnel, but it’s too smoky to see the entrance. If I hand Devon the stereo, he’ll know in a second that it’s fake, and he and the ship will refocus on Race and Congers. But if I don’t hand him the stereo, he’s going to—

There’s a sharp crack, and Devon jerks to the side, then falls, the side of his head shattered and bloody. I look over to see Race disappearing behind a giant oak, semi-auto in his hand. He’s given me a second chance, and I won’t waste it. I spin around and leap onto the vertical rock face, digging my fingers in. The toes of my sneakers wedge into cracks in the stones, and I’m moving. Up. Straight up. This whole plan is only going to work if I get to the top, and maybe not even then. But if all I end up doing is helping Race get the real scanner safely into the tunnel, then that’s good enough.

Fingers hook over rock. Heave. Find a foothold. Surge upward. Jam my hands into a crack. Repeat. Repeat. I climb the cliff face with a frenetic energy fed by terror and determination. Searing heat licks at my spine, at the hairs on the back of my neck. The scout ship must be moving closer. It’s so quiet—all I can hear is a low hum—but I know it’s coming to get me—and what it thinks is the scanner.

They’d gotten to an H2 agent. Somehow, one of those aliens crawled inside him and took him over. No idea how—through his mouth, his skin, his too-large jug ears . . . I have to stop thinking about what it might be like to have a Sicarii invade my body. The merest inkling saps strength from muscles that need every ounce of blood and hope I can possibly give them. Fingers. Toes. Quadriceps. Biceps. Move. Climb. My pulse beats hot inside my head. My ears are awash with white noise. Time stops.

A rocket-propelled grenade slams into the cliff face about twenty feet above me, and I nearly lose my grip. “Hold your fire!” I yelp as rocks dash against my shoulders and arms, already knowing no one will hear me. Race must have rallied the surviving Core agents, and they’re firing at the ship.

If they’re not careful, they’re going to knock me off the side of this cliff.

The low hum from the scout ship intensifies, and the loud explosion that follows tells me that it’s taken a more permanent approach to the problem of ground fire. Sweat trickles down my back as I hear shouts and screams from below, making the metal stereo slip and scrape against my bare skin. Up. Up. I won’t stop. I won’t slow. My breath bursts from my lungs as I propel myself upward with frenetic speed. The top of the cliff is only about fifty feet above me now. My arms and legs destroy the distance; my lizard brain has taken over. At any moment, I could be blasted off the side of this rock, but the Sicarii ship floats behind me, graceful and quiet, maybe waiting for me to fall so it can catch me and take everything that’s mine. Or maybe waiting for me to get to the top so it can land and scoop me up.

But if I heard my mom correctly, that’s not going to happen. The defenses will be triggered if I can lure the ship above the edge of the plateau.

As I make yet another leap upward, my hand slips and my feet scrabble at the rock, trying to find purchase. For a few seconds, I’m still, clinging precariously with one good toehold and the fingers of one hand jammed deep into a crack. The lights from the ship brighten, turning the cliff face white and shimmering, and with a jolt of panic I’m moving again. Thirty feet. Lunge. Twenty feet.
Go.
Ten feet.
Almost there.
I heave myself onto the plateau at the top of the cliff, looking around with desperation and hope, gasping for air, praying for big guns or lasers or cannons or a squad of freaking special forces or whatever the fuck’s going to keep this Sicarii ship from getting me.

What I see is . . . not much. The plateau is unnaturally flat and circular, at least one mile in diameter. There’s a crater in the middle, protected by a rim that’s at least a hundred yards thick . . . and in the center is a giant, empty bowl, from what I can see. No factory, no weapons. Nothing.

With dread flooding my insides, I whirl around to see the Sicarii ship rise above the edge of the plateau. I wish I knew whether Race and Congers made it safely to the tunnel with the scanner and the wreckage. Whether this was worth it.

I pull the stereo from the back of my pants and wave it at the ship. “Want it?” I shout.

It moves closer. It gives off electrical pulses that I feel beneath my skin, like it’s mapping all my weaknesses. I fold my arms over the stereo.

I’m about to start running along the plateau toward the crater, ready to hurl myself in if nothing else, when the ground trembles beneath my feet. The sound of rock sliding over rock makes my breath catch in my throat. It’s a mechanical noise, very controlled. Gray shapes rise smoothly from the plateau all around me, the sun glinting off the metal panels. They give off a hum all their own as they spin into position.

Surface-to-air missile batteries. Five of them, positioned at intervals along the edge of the cliff. In the moment it takes me to breathe, they lock on to the Sicarii ship.

It’s completely still for a moment, like the pilot inside is gauging the threat. Then, faster than anything I’ve ever seen, it streaks away over the trees.