Walking Ghost Phase (26 page)

Then the world turned dark.

It stayed dark.

“
Unreal,” an unfamiliar voice said. “Can they find any more ways to screw us?”

Emily recognized the laugh that followed.
“Night combat,” Matt said. “This should be interesting.”

“
Thank you,” Emily whispered.

“
What's our objective?” Matt asked.

“
Secure the streets from all enemy forces,” the unfamiliar guy said. “In this darkness, we should be able to take them out if we use stealth.”

Matt
's reply came like clockwork. “Not a good idea.”

Emily
's eyes slowly adjusted. Now the figures around her appeared as pitch-black masses standing beneath floating call signs.

The commander, who towered above Emily—would have towered above anyone else on base, too—waved his gun at Matt.
“What do you mean?”

“
You think we're on equal ground with the defenders?” Matt asked. “That we can just run into the streets and not expect them to easily kill us?”

“
What the hell are you talking about?”

Matt approached the ceiling-high windows and peered on the street, which was visible under the dull orange of a single streetlight in the distance.
“They have an advantage. We need to find out what it is before we run off into a firefight.”

“
We've seen their weapons. Their guns kill the same as ours.”

“
You're an idiot if you think their guns are going to be our only issue.”

“
What's your problem? I'm in command.”

Matt pointed above A1
's head. “No, you have a number. That's all it is.”

A1 raised his gun and tapped the barrel tip against Matt
's visor. “I don't give a damn who you are or how smart you might be. Fall in line, or I'll kill you myself.”

Without hesitating, Emily moved behind A1.
“No,” she said, and jabbed her gun against his spine. “We do it his way.”

Then a clink rattled inside her helmet.
“Drop it,” A4 said. He pushed her with his gun barrel. “Do it now.”

As Emily took a step to keep her balance, she had a passing thought of three colonels who were sitting in a room, smoking cigars and laughing at her squad, which had formed the Conga line from hell.
“Him first.” She poked her gun into A1 again.

“
Listen,” Matt said. “We can stay here and kill one another. It would make the defenders' job that much easier. Or we can go separate ways and take our chances.”

A1 was silent for a moment, and Emily wondered how anyone could spend more than a second making the obvious choice. Sure, she and Matt would probably end up on the losing side of a bloodbath; Matt still kept his rifle lowered. But A4, the likeliest survivor, didn
't seem to instill confidence, especially with the repeated, nervous tapping of his barrel on Emily's helmet. His teeth chattered, the sound of which echoed around the room.

A1 sighed.
“Four, lower your gun. You, behind me, do the same.” A1 inched his gun to the side of Matt's head, and Matt nodded at Emily. When the pressure on her neck eased, she lowered her rifle. “Come on,” A1 said to A4. They walked backwards, watching Matt and Emily, and slipped through the door to the street.

Once the two soldiers disappeared in the darkness, Emily exhaled. More than five minutes
—the minimum amount of time her mind took before it expected forthcoming pain—usually passed before her knees wobbled. Now she leaned on her gun to stay upright. “Okay, I'm here. I've done something frowned upon by Stallings and everyone else. Should I worry about a group of MPs stealing me away in the night and beating me half to death?”

Matt glanced around the lobby.
“No.”

“
Don't they hang people for desertion?”

Matt laughed as he walked toward a corner door.
“No.”

“
Oh, thank God.”

“
They use lethal injection.”

Emily slumped across the butt
of her rifle. “If you're trying to make me feel better about my decision—” She sighed. “Do you at least have a plan to keep us alive?”

“
Not yet.” Matt opened the stairwell door. “Let's go.”

At the door, Emily
was looking at the first flight of stairs, when her stomach twisted. “Do we have to go up?”

Matt placed his hands on the outside of her shoulders.
“You'll be fine. I promise.”

“
Did your cheek just twitch?”

“
What?”

“
Nothing.” She took a deep breath. “After you.”

Matt sprinted up the stairs, and the thud of his boots bounced off the walls with a booming echo. A
s she raced to catch him, he only stared ahead at the next flight of stairs. The walls probably muffled the sound from reaching any defenders on the streets, but Emily couldn't say the same about the enemies who had taken up positions on the top floors. “Shouldn't we be a little quieter?” she shouted.

Matt stopped abruptly, and Emily
's visor butted his back. He glanced over his shoulder. “Don't worry. No one's up here.”

“
How do you know?”

“
See for yourself.” He directed her attention to the steps they had just climbed. Moonlight filtered in from somewhere above, casting the stairs in a faint glow. “The defenders get a thirty minute head start, but like us, they always begin on the ground level.” Matt slid his hand along the rails and showed her his palm. Gray dust masked his skin. “We'd know if they came this way.”

She examined the stairs again.
“Only two sets of footprints down and none up.”

“
Exactly.”

Emily elbowed him in the ribs and ran past him.
“Then come on slowpoke,” she shouted over her shoulder. For the next dozen or so flights of stairs, the sound of his footsteps drew closer. She had no idea where Matt wanted her to go, but she doubted it was the top floor. She experienced plenty of trouble seeing the streets from the lobby window, so a rooftop view would be worse. Besides, she didn't think he was demented enough to make her climb another sixty stories.

“
Stop,” Matt said.

She did.
“Out of breath already?”

“
No.” He made it to the flat landing and tapped his knuckles on the floor number sign: 17. “I wanted to surprise you.” He pushed open the door. “Is this suitable?”

Right then, Emily hated the Sim gear; Matt
's helmet surely hid a devious smile. She entered the restaurant, which appeared untouched by bullets or explosions. Utensils and empty wine glasses sat in a perfect array on each white linen tablecloth, and cushion-backed chairs remained upright. In the flickering candlelight, Emily could almost see ghostly apparitions of lovers who were lost in each other's eyes. “You planned this, didn't you?”

“
Coincidence,” Matt said. He walked past her and approached the windows.

“
You sure know how to crush a girl's hopes.”

“
I'm trying to get you to bed early. Isn't that enough?”

“
Yeah, but—” Emily glanced at the ceiling. “Why do I even bother?”

Matt pulled the binoculars from his knapsack and looked through the windows. A full moon drifted above the silhouettes of lifeless skyscrapers. He stood on his toes and scanned the streets.

“What are you looking for?” Emily asked.

“
Bad guys.”

“
Bad guys? There are bad guys here? This is so going to ruin our dinner plans.” She rolled her eyes and took out her own binoculars. “Hey, Captain Obvious, can you be more specific?”

“
The advantage.”

Emily now surveyed the s
treets. On her left, two defenders crossed the nearest intersection while two attackers, shrouded in almost total darkness, hid behind a metallic bus stop sign near the next intersection. It seemed like solid cover, and the path of the defenders would take them straight into the ambush. A rush of anxiety coursed over Emily. “Come on, guys.” The defenders moved closer. “Just a little farther.”

Then the defenders raised
their weapons at the attackers who were still more than fifty feet down the street and crouching behind cover. A glow of orange muzzle fire cast an aura around the defenders, and the attackers crumpled dead on the sidewalk before they could lift their rifles to return fire.

“
That's it,” Matt said.

“
How did they see—”

“
Get down,” Matt shouted. A million shards of glass shattered over Emily's shoulders and helmet. Bullets zipped past her, digging into the ceiling. She planted her visor against the floor and covered her exposed neck.

Matt grabbed Emily
's arm. “Get up. Run.” Without hesitating, she jumped to her feet. In the stairwell, entire flights of stairs streaked past her eyes, and the faint sound of gunfire came from somewhere below her. The defenders were close. She followed Matt through the lobby as bullets ricocheted around the marble walls with shrill zings.

By the time they reached the alleyway door, a misty layer had formed inside Emily
's visor. Her eyes watered, stinging from the circulation of her breath. Then an ear-shattering boom sucked the remaining oxygen out of her lungs. Matt had kicked in the next building's door, which hung by a single screw, the metal frame twisted beyond repair.

He grabbed her arm again.
“Move.”

Emily ran through the door, trying to keep up with Matt as he broke into another building. Her legs burned, muscles cramped and lungs begged for mor
e air than she could inhale. Matt tallied four destroyed doors before he finally slowed inside the lobby of a hotel where a dozen or so luggage trolleys sat behind a room-length granite counter.

“
This should be good enough.” Matt stepped around a pile of clothing, which spilled out of a black suitcase. Emily rested against the wall and pulled the helmet away from her face, feeling the cool air rush across her cheeks. Now he paced in front of her, tapping his helmet. “Think. Think. Think.” More pacing. More tapping. Then he stopped. For a moment he stared at Emily.

“
What is it?” she asked.

“
Oh shit,” he shouted, and reached for her arm.

Heat surged up her spine, and rock crackled in her ears. She wondered why she faced the floor, why the granite tiles raced past her eyes. She flailed her arms, feeling nothing but dead air. The lobby counter grew larger until its vein-patterned surface passed beneath her. She slammed into the ground, and the air expelled from her lungs in a single breath. Particles of warm cement pelted her back.

Emily's mind flashed with a replay of her first night in the Sim. The explosion, the stench of burning flesh, the landing and how bad it hurt. This one? Not so much.
Lucky me
.
Must have landed on some clothes.
Then a winded groan hissed in her ear. Matt's eyes stared at her through their touching visors. Without hesitating, she pushed her palms into the floor and tried to lift herself.

He squeezed his arms around her.
“No,” he whispered. “Be still.”

Emily squirmed, butting his helmet.
“We need to get out of here. They'll find us.”

“
Do you trust me?”

She pushed harder, but his grip tightened
against her shoulders.

“
Are you ready to die?”

She gave one more push, a final moment of defiance, and then she went limp.
“I hope you know what you're doing.”

Faint voices crept over the counter, growing louder, clearer. Footsteps crackled on broken marble. The defenders came to finish the job. A muscle spasm rolled
up her spine and begged her to flee. Maybe she wouldn't get far. She might even take a bullet to the back of the head, but at least she wouldn't make for an easy target. “They're going to kill us,” she whispered.

Matt rubbed her back.
“Calm down and do what I do,” he whispered, and inched away from the counter. His heartbeat pounded against her chest as she matched his movement. “More.” The footsteps grew louder.

Emily and Matt
inched away from the counter again. “What are we doing?” She barely heard her own voice.

“
They're dead,” an unfamiliar voice said.

“
You sure?” another asked.

“
Yeah, see the colors fade?”

“
All right, let's get back out there and waste the rest.” Their footsteps crunched on broken glass and rubble until fading into thuds on the street.

“
A few more seconds,” Matt said.