James Axler – Watersleep

Murphy looked at the scene, at his partner, and his mouth dropped open in disbelief. How hard had she kicked Fade anyway? What the fuck was in the toes of those boots? He’d never seen anything like this in all of his forty-four years of existence. Like some kind of adventure vid player set on fast forward, this woman, this thing, had broken a steel door in two, ripped out the frame and proceeded to kick the shit out of a man who in all likelihood would normally be able to pick her up one-handed without even breathing hard.

Murphy responded by pivoting in the padded swivel chair behind the desk, tossing aside the deck of cards, rising to his feet and running as fast as pos­sible from the engine of destruction that had erupted in his midst.

Fade looked on in rage at the lower half of his own face sagging limply into his line of vision, then set his sights on the demon above him. He cursed her in a string of profanities that would have done any man proud.

But to Krysty, the bleating figure at her feet was merely a distraction. She watched, with a mix of bemusement and pity, as Fade managed to blindly shoot off a single round from the rifle he’d been carrying. In response, Krysty kicked out a second time, and a third, and a fourth, and a fifth—her movements a blur as each blow struck home, catching the join of Fade’s chin and neck as if she were repeatedly punting a football.

Fade’s features were destroyed beyond recognition, blood spraying up like the high-pressure contents of a burst water pipe. The lifeless head flew upward at a forty-five-degree angle, hitting one of the ringed silver ceiling lamps with a wet slapping sound. The screeching noise the man had been making before the final blow was replaced with a bellowslike wheeze from the wet hole between his shoulders.

All of this occurred within a span of mere seconds.

Murphy was up and running for his life. To Krysty, he was merely walking away at a leisurely pace. A casual follow-me jog.

The sec man was scared, as scared as he’d ever been in his mercenary life.

Fuck the navy and fuck Poseidon, too. No amount of jack was worth having to deal with this! Stickies and muties and bands of wandering marauders with killing on their mind was one thing, but this was be­yond even the usual day-to-day madness of Deat-lands.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” came in a torrent from his mouth as he ran.

Behind him, Krysty stepped on Fade’s still-thrashing body and began to make her move.

Murphy was babbling faster now, praying, begging, gasping as he ran. He didn’t look back. He’d seen more than enough, the empty smiling expression on the woman’s face coming up behind him was etched forever in his memory. He staggered, trying to keep his balance and hoping he wouldn’t fall.

When he felt her iron fingers bite down on his shoulder and lift him bodily into the air, it was almost a blessing.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The world was concrete, stone hard and cool to the touch. The steps, the walls, even the low ceilings were all made of the same flat blue-gray concrete. Flick­ering fluorescent track lighting showed the path downward, along with helpful painted arrows on the walls. Poseidon, still in full dress uniform, led the way, followed by the tall, broad-shouldered sec man that had previously been keeping watch over Ryan.

Poseidon had called the man Jonesy.

Ryan, his hands cuffed behind his back, was third in line. The rear was brought up by a second merc with thick eyeglasses and blond hair who wore civil­ian garb. The man with the glasses hadn’t volunteered a name, nor had Poseidon offered one. Ryan dubbed him Specs. The visually impaired J.B. wouldn’t have been amused, but Ryan considered his being down an eye to the Armorer’s two allowed him to say whatever he wished about anyone with glasses.

“More hired help,” Ryan had said. “Couldn’t get him to sign up for the draft, either, huh?”

“Mercenaries are a necessary evil, as is so much else these days,” the Admiral answered. “I buy all of my men’s loyalties in different ways, Cawdor. All leaders do. I’m sure you have ways of binding your own people to your allegiance.”