Renegade: The Ten Sigma Series Book 2 Read online

  When we reach a broad avenue called Presidential Way, two men shout from the entrance of the research facility, readying their rifles.

  I shoot both and pull Jonathon and Victoria in the opposite direction, entering Government Plaza, the heart of downtown New Austin.

  Roars come from Congressional Park across the pavement where oily pillars of smoke rise from the blazing wreckage of giant mechas. Munitions pop from missile racks set over their squat chassis while sparks shower from their twisted legs.

  No cover there.

  We can’t keep rushing through an exposed area, and at the next intersection, I guide Jonathon and Victoria past a stuttering holographic traffic pole and down a side street. Blackened bodies lie over the sidewalk from a fierce battle, and we pass several burning storefronts before reaching a somewhat intact cafe. Grateful for the cover, I drag my companions through the busted doorway and settle them behind the bulk of a fallen serving robot.

  While they gather their breath, I edge to the wide front windows and assess the situation. Besides the good news of getting out of the building, not much is positive.

  Even though a thin haze from the fires hangs over the streets, it’s still broad daylight and our enemies know our general location. Right now, they’re off balance, and the pursuit is sloppy. However, they have numbers, and when they come, we’ll be in deep trouble.

  We’re screwed but, somehow, I’ll figure out a way to beat the augments with their superior weapons and mobility, even with Jonathon and Victoria in tow.

  The rationale is arrogant, but nobody on the other side has been through what I’ve been through. And that’s not mentioning the extra motivation I have to find my family.

  Actions, not thoughts, lead to results.

  “Victoria, are there any friendly forces left? Or reinforcements coming?”

  She scoots from behind the metal box and crouches next to me. “Most of the units in the city were annihilated in the first few minutes. By now, the rest are gone too.” She shakes her head. “The attack was too broad and well-coordinated. The relief column from up north was ambushed. It will take hours to get another force strong enough to break through and challenge this.” she says, pointing over the cityscape.

  I roll my eyes. “In other words, we’re on our own.”

  She sends a sly grin. “Please do what you need to do. I trust in your abilities.”

  I bite back a frown. “We have to put some distance between us and them. Are you ready, Jonathon?”

  Even though he’s still gulping air and a deep crimson colors his face, he gives a determined nod.

  Sharp cracks come from a nearby skirmish. Without any defense forces left, it means there are competing factions among the enemy, who are feuding over the spoils of the city.

  Happy with the added chaos, I open the door and say, “Time to go.”

  After we exit and jog past the next building, the extracurricular fighting intensifies.

  “Faster,” I say, sidestepping the face-down corpse of a friendly. “They won’t be at each other forever.”

  While Victoria keeps pace, I tug Jonathon along, wanting to carry him but knowing our survival depends on me keeping a weapon in my hand.

  At a blown-out corner building, I cut past a vein of rubble and turn right, zigzagging from the research center.

  When we skirt around a cratered intersection, movement comes from the park.

  I slow and raise my rifle, aiming at armed men shoving terrified civilians into trucks.

  “Human trafficking,” Victoria says darkly. “Count on the scum of the earth to appear when the times are at their worst.”

  I purse my lips. The main thrust with the augments and Liberation Front is gathering secret research, but other groups have more than one agenda—some loot, some kidnap, and others just destroy. An alliance of convenience with a bunch of opportunists? The motivations explain the infighting, but in the end, what difference does it make?

  Anyone getting in my way is getting killed.

  Annoyed by my coldness, I ask Jonathon, “Are they part of the mission?”

  He shakes his head.

  Victoria touches my arm. “There’s nothing we can do now.”

  I nod, feeling I should have a better reaction for not rescuing helpless people.

  We rush another two blocks in the opposite direction. After we avoid a firefight chewing through a charcoal gray tower, bland edifices loom to either side.

  I cast suspicious glances at their tinted windows.

  Although strange glints reflect from the hazy sunlight, no threats materialize.

  At Stewart Park, a traffic circle surrounding a picturesque walking area, I switch directions. Victoria stumbles when she tries to follow. Jonathon indicates he can walk under his own power, and I dash to her. While the shouts of men and the clanking of machines grow from the vicinity of the research lab, I pull her upright.

  Ten blocks past the open patch of ground, a slim figure glides along the edge of a rooftop.

  “Augments,” I say. “We have to move.”

  Both Jonathon and Victoria nod, understanding the threat. The augments have one priority, and their search net has spread beyond our position.

  I trot toward a cloud of smoke billowing across the way.

  When Jonathon and Victoria catch up, we head into the haze. Orange glows and the roar of flames intensify with each step. On the next block, a twisted hunk of metal comes into view. The smoldering ruin is an M24 mecha, the same type as the ones on fire in Congressional Park.

  A wall of heat brushes against us as we shield our eyes and skirt around the burning remnants.

  After passing the worst of the smoke, I pull Jonathon and Victoria into the recessed entryway of a four-story structure covered with vertical black rails.

  I wipe soot from my face as a heavy, smoky breeze wanders past.

  Jonathon coughs, blinking from the choking air.

  “Stay lower,” I say. “It’ll be easier to breathe.”

  Victoria scowls at the wreckage.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  Reflections from the flames dance on her gray eyes while she answers, “These are designed for territorial domination over the plains, not to be wasted garrisoning a city for show. It’s too easy to sneak up with anti-armor weapons, and the units can’t indiscriminately fire on crowded streets.” She blows out a breath in disgust. “An entire regiment gone.”

  While I guess the overall strategy wasn’t her doing, I keep my mouth shut.

  A cry comes. Further down the street, a soldier in ragtag armor drags a teenage girl by her ponytail.

  Jonathon says, “Should we help?”

  These distractions are one of the reasons why the pursuit is chaotic, and I should be happy for them. I really should. Softly, I reply, “We’re in a firefight. We’ll be lucky if we can escape.”

  “But…”

  Victoria twists her head. Her eyes do the strange quiver before she coldly says, “Mary’s right. More augments are running around too. Before the EMPs knocked out the surveillance, we counted at least ten trios of them. We have to keep moving.”

  Not sure what to make of the sudden changes in her demeanor, I nod. At least her combat sense is good.

  The girl screams as her blouse rips.

  Of course, one wayward shot killing one filthy marauder couldn’t hurt. I jerk my rifle up and press the power trigger, readying to fire a gigantic pulse before the man can yank her out of sight.

  However, instead of melting his head—

  “Take cover,” I yell as a figure charges around the opposite corner with a rocket launcher on his shoulder.

  An exhaust blast jets from the end of the long tube.

  I snap the muzzle around and fire.

  The jumbo-sized pulse detonates the warhead before the missile clears the launcher. The explosion turns the shooter into scraps of flesh and armor. Flames spill over the area while the boom shatters higher-story windows. Yells of agony erupt
from within the smoke. A moment later, burning men stumble into view and collapse on the asphalt.

  “That was an amazing shot,” Victoria says.

  A bit surprised by my reaction and aim, I nod.

  Maybe a few things did go right with the download.

  Men shout and vehicles clank, heading in our direction.

  Jonathon’s eyes wander over the carnage.

  I wave my hand to attract his attention and yell, “Keep moving.”

  We skirt past disoriented civilians pouring from a shattered building and rush through the residual fires left from the explosion.

  Wrinkling my nose from the stench of roasted flesh, I lead Jonathon and Victoria past burning bodies and bewildered people. Although the passage is without incident, I keep a wary gaze on the busted windows to either side.

  The danger isn’t over.

  After we cross the next street, Jonathon wheezes, and his legs wobble. A grimace crosses his grime-covered face, but he hobbles forward, holding a stitch in his ribs.

  I push myself under his shoulder and help him move at a pace that won’t get us killed, hoping I don’t have to make any sudden movements to defend us.

  When a winded Victoria slows, I motion for her to keep moving. We can’t stop for anything.

  Engine roars fill the neighborhood.

  “They’re getting closer,” Jonathon huffs.

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” I mutter.

  As we sweep onto a pristine avenue, another man steps out with a rocket launcher. I jerk away from Jonathon and fire. My shot strikes him in the chest, and he collapses. The missile zips into the front of the nearest building and explodes in a shower of metal and glass.

  More men rush into view.

  I grab Jonathon, and we sprint for everything we’re worth down a side alley.

  When we hit a major thoroughfare called Houston Square, I stop, eyes wide with wonder, and stare at a large square bordered by stylish hotels. In the center atop a pedestal stands a bronze statue of an old Texas hero, sitting majestically on his horse.

  I was wrong about the pedestrian architecture.

  Much of the city was damaged during the fighting, but here, some buildings still function as normal. A colorful holographic facade covers each.

  The nearest flickers with Roman columns in front of a marble sculpted entrance. Elegant castles and Egyptian wonders lie further away. My guess is that the exteriors can be changed on a whim, so why would anyone make the underlying surface more interesting than a flat or railed sheet of gray?

  “EMP weapons,” Victoria says between gasps.

  I nod. The electromagnetic pulses fry electronics, which in this day and age are everywhere, including inside the holo-emitters.

  Jonathon sucks down a breath. “These civilian circuits don’t have auto-reconfig, so they can’t repair themselves.” He sighs. “This used to be a beautiful place.”

  “The Jewel of the South,” Victoria adds. “But we can’t be nostalgic now.”

  Understanding her meaning, I get my bearings and roll my eyes. We’ve only zigzagged about fifteen blocks from the research center. How we’ll ever make it out of the city, I have no idea. “We have to find someplace to hide until I can figure out a better plan.”

  Jonathon points past the statue to a structure masquerading as the Taj Mahal. “Electricity is still working in there. It’ll be harder to detect us through the noise.”

  “But not impossible?”

  “No,” Victoria answers. “We’d need advanced shielding cloaks for that.”

  Shouts arrive from the other end of the side alley.

  Whatever we do, we can’t get caught in the open.

  Our feet stomp on dead display panels as we charge toward the marble archways of the entrance. We pass hazy shadows cast by rows of trees as we hurry up a bleached staircase. After too many plodding steps, we slam through a pair of utilitarian doors and dive into a vast three-tiered lobby. With my heart racing, I pull my charges behind the hotel concierge counter. While they gasp for oxygen, I scan through the front arches to the empty square, watching for pursuit.

  Seconds pass before a figure clad in black battle-mesh strides on the far rooftop.

  My stomach drops.

  Augment.

  I grab Jonathon and Victoria, and we charge under a 1920s style hologram and up the main staircase.

  A moment later, the augment lands next to the hero on his horse and walks toward the entryway.

  Twelve

  Since these augments work in trios, at least two others are heading for us.

  Or worse, trios of trios.

  I clench my jaw, shoving the gloomy thought aside. When we reach the first landing, I whisper, “Besides the guy down there, more are coming. Make sure you stay close to me no matter what.”

  Victoria nods and coughs. Although we’ve been under the stress and physical exertions of combat all day, I’m still surprised to find her vulnerable. She’s a bit human after all.

  “This place is gigantic,” Jonathon says, in worse shape than her.

  Even though they’re at their limits, I reply, “If we stay here, we’ll be cornered. Let’s head somewhere else.”

  When I think of somewhere else, my area download maps a route to another building via a connecting bridge.

  “Higher,” I whisper. “Up to the fifth floor.”

  Footsteps clomp in the lobby as the augment makes no effort at concealment. He’s playing the role of the hammer and driving us into his friends, who are the anvil.

  While I’d like to march down and teach him a lesson, I have to protect Jonathon and Victoria. The best course for the mission is avoiding confrontation if possible.

  With that unhappy thought, I keep low, leading us past an elevator bank and into an access staircase. Our steps make entirely too much noise climbing up the concrete stairs, and I cringe.

  However, no enemies emerge, and we arrive on the fifth floor unmolested.

  We hurry down a guest corridor, where faint scrapes and whimpers come from behind several doors—terrified people who are hiding from the marauders.

  Can’t help them.

  The long space feeds into an opulent sitting area. After skirting past a wooden high-back chair and a square coffee table made from carved stone, I turn the corner, and the flying bridge comes into sight.

  It’s a simple arched walkway with tall windows to either side.

  I stop.

  Beyond the streaming sunlight and gleams spread across the glossy floor, a fleeting movement ripples in the shadows.

  Jonathon bumps into me, and I signal to stay quiet.

  Nothing moves when I focus on the other side.

  Could I be seeing ghosts?

  I rub my silent nape, which hasn’t registered any of the dangers we’ve faced this morning. With the rush of downloading my consciousness, I don’t trust the stillness of my early warning system. If this is a trap and we get caught on the bridge, there’s no escape.

  However, if we retreat, any augments we encounter don’t need to win, they just need to delay long enough for their friends to arrive.

  Lose-lose.

  Distinctive footfalls arrive from the staircase.

  This has to be a trap.

  But what choice is there?

  Victoria taps my arm. “Is there something wrong?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing I can’t handle. Count to ten and follow me.”

  After they nod, I crouch and step onto the bridge, squinting through the glare. Although I reach the halfway point without incident, my suspicions spike. I swap the rifle for the high-tech sword and ready myself for close-quarters combat.

  The edge gleams reassuringly as I squeeze the grip.

  Ten seconds to eliminate whatever is waiting.

  I charge over the downward arc of the floor. When I hit the end of the bridge, I leap, tucking into a roll, and swing the blade.

  The metal meets air.

  Surprised, I stand and su
rvey the empty hallway.

  How could my senses have been this wrong?

  Victoria steps next to me. “Were you expecting something different?”

  I shrug. “I’m being too cautious.”

  “Caution is a virtue.”

  An uncomfortable feeling rises as she stares through me.

  Jonathon huffs around the corner. “Someone came out of the staircase.”

  I study my grimy companions. They’re at the limit of their endurance and need to recuperate. Our only option is to wait, cowering in some hideout like trapped animals. I shake my head, despising the whole situation that runs counter to every thread of my ten sigma training.

  No time to dawdle; we can’t stay in the open.

  The interior schematics of the new building flood into my mind when I think of concealment. “There’s a place to rest on the top floor. It’s going to be a climb.”

  Without a choice, they return weary nods as I sheathe the sword and pull out the rifle.

  My eyes linger on the edge of the flying bridge while we move away.

  Victoria glances with curiosity, and I concentrate on the task at hand, striding to the nearest staircase. The new building is the tallest one in the square, and I lead us up eight levels to the fourteenth and top floor.

  Warm, stale air drifts past as we enter a long corridor framed by dead holographic panels.

  While Jonathon and Victoria struggle to regain their breath from the brisk climb, I move forward, checking the identical white doors to both sides. Some have people, while others are locked. At the end of the walkway, I lose patience and, lowering my shoulder, smash into a corner suite.

  I step into a plush, one-bedroom setup. The living room contains a camel-back couch next to a cushioned chair. After Jonathon and Victoria pile into the musty confines, I push the door closed and drag the couch to block any entrance.

  Victoria walks to the corner windows and stares at the panoramic view of New Austin.

  After I join her, her gaze stays riveted on the smoke columns, which rise everywhere.

  Even though I’m not familiar with this time or situation, the magnitude of the disaster is more than apparent from her tight lips.

  The wreckage of her forces.