One by one, I issued the overrides and took remote control of the revivors. Their systems were reflected back, giving me full access.
“Four minutes, Agent,” a voice said.
I scanned the layout of the processing plant and located the Leichenesser stores that MacReady had called out. I sent one unit to retrieve the payload from storage. The automated system responded and retrieved a single crate containing a series of pressurized metal tanks.
I sent the target revivor the route to take, making sure to keep it inside its designated security zone. I kept the feeds open to monitor them, and waited as the first revivor moved to the storage locker.
None of the others seemed to pay it any notice as its black hand gripped the handle and pulled open the heavy steel door. Mist drifted out of the gap as it slipped through the fog and into the freezer chamber.
The rows were filled with stores of chemicals. The revivor passed by them as it followed the location on the manifest and found a single rack of thin, glossy black canisters. Each one was labeled with multiple warnings and marked with a biohazard trefoil.
The revivor removed a single tank from the container and headed back through the mist toward the freezer door. It pushed it open, and kept an even pace as it headed for the plant’s western exit.
On the feed, the revivor’s optics isolated a figure through the snow. It waited near a fence at the processing plant’s perimeter. The feed bobbled rhythmically as the revivor began to run the canister over to it.
My fingers curled into a fist, tendons crackling.
The revivor on the feed reached the second one in the chain and handed off the canister. I switched over the active feed and watched through its eyes as it turned back to the metal door behind it, where a sign was mounted:
PRATSKY WEST
Over the feed, I saw an incoming call request appear on Faye’s system. It was flagged urgent.
MacReady’s estimate would put me past Osterhagen’s deadline, but still inside the window before The Eye could fire a second shot. If the Leichenesser was already released, I might be able to convince Osterhagen to wait.
The revivor on the tarmac moved quickly as it clutched the canister to its chest. Up ahead, through the snow, the third revivor in the chain waited.
Faye’s connection turned from green to red. It went out. The link dropped.
“Three minutes, Agent.”
On the tarmac, I saw the revivor stop short in the snow. A second later, the feed went dark.
8
REVENANT
Calliope Flax—Stillwell Corps Base
A door to my right bashed open as they shoved their way into the hall behind me. I picked up speed and put some distance between us, but got stopped at the end of the hall by a metal door with panes of safety glass. I put two slugs into one of them and kicked out a hole, then squeezed through as they rushed in behind me. Palms slammed against the glass, and one grabbed at my boot as I started to run.
Behind me I heard them smash out the rest of the glass. Down the main hall I could see the back exit, with a guard station between walls of bulletproof glass. Past that was the back lot, and outside the bodies were already piling up. They’d mobbed the door, beating on it with their palms and fists.
They surged against the wall, and the metal frame squealed on its hinges. Back behind me, they were closing in. I aimed my pistol and put down the two in front, but it didn’t slow them down much.
A crash came from the lot, and I turned to see an armored military truck plow into the crowd on its way to the back exit. It didn’t slow down as revivors were smashed against the grille and dragged underneath. Up in the cab, I saw the kid grip the wheel as she braced for the impact.
The glass caved in and the metal frame broke loose from the concrete as the truck smashed through the guard station and into the back lobby. Glass sprayed down the hall and cold air blew through the gap.
The kid revved the engine and waved me in. I fired a couple more rounds into the crowd behind me, then jumped through the wreckage toward the cab. A hand grabbed my boot as I pulled the passenger’s door, and I turned and shot a woman in the face between her black eyes. I threw myself in the seat and slammed the door behind me. There was a rifle propped against the dash inside.
“Can you shoot?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Switch places!”
She squirmed past me and grabbed the rifle as I got behind the wheel. They pulled her door open, and she fired three quick shots. An expended shell burned the back of my hand as bodies fell into the snow, and she pulled the door shut again and pounded the lock.
Gears ground as I slammed the truck into reverse and stomped on the gas. Bodies thumped against the rear of the truck as I cut the wheel and hit the brakes. Outside, one of them smashed a trash can against Vika’s window, but it held. She cracked it open and fired out the slit. Shells trailed smoke as they pinged off the dash and onto the