Whoever this Firehawk was, he had better listen to her. Nothing they needed her to do could possibly be more important than her mission, not even saving a few lives. Not when every life on the planet was in danger. She had to make them understand.
She listened to Byron breathe in the darkness, waiting for that soft, even sound of sleep. But it didn’t come. And she had the acute sense that he was every bit aware of her closeness as she was of his. As he shifted, she felt the whiskers of his cheek brush against her face. She fought off a strange, aching desire for him to close the distance.
“Asleep?” he whispered.
“Not much chance of that.” She caught herself and rolled her eyes the other way. “Being in this strange place where people are waiting to cut my throat.”
“Can’t blame you for that. Well, I for one won’t cut your throat.”
She blinked in the dark. “That’s good to know.”
They lay in silence until he whispered, “Sorry. I’ll try to get you in and out of Delta City as quickly as possible.”
She said nothing, just lay next to him, and finally tried to close her eyes. They stung with fatigue.
She awoke to shouts in the camp, feeling as if she’d only just dozed off. She guessed she’d gotten about fifteen minutes of sleep. Byron had done only slightly better. Though they hadn’t spoken for most of the night, she could sense he’d remained awake for much of the evening. Sunlight streamed in through the tent opening.
She heard snippets of shouted conversation. “We have to move!”—“Firehawk’s not back yet.”—“. . . got the device!”
Byron stirred, his opening eyes meeting hers. Their green intensity struck her. She’d never been so close to someone before, at least no one who was alive. He watched her for a long moment, and she could feel something passing between them, some unspoken communication, but she didn’t know what it was. Then he turned, shifting his weight. He untied the rope. It had been uncomfortable as hell to sleep like that. Getting up and stretching, he moved to the opening of the tent.
He stuck his head through the flap, and H124 squinted in the sudden brightness. “Astoria, what’s going on?” he asked as someone rushed by.
“Firehawk’s got the prototype,” she heard a woman answer. As the newcomer stopped outside the tent, H124 got a glimpse of a black Mohawk and dark, piercing eyes. Spiral tattoos covered a sepia face. “But we’ve got to move today. They’re mobilizing, but we don’t know to where.”
“What about Firehawk? Where is he?”
“He’s fallen under fire outside the city. Someone managed to get out to tell us we should leave now, but Firehawk stayed behind with the rest of his team. He says we’re supposed to meet him there.”
“At the tower?” Byron sounded incredulous.
The woman nodded.
“How the hell is he going to get in the city?”
“He found a worker.” She looked through the tent flap at H124. “Another one. I’ll get Dirk and meet you at the car.” She turned and rushed off. Byron turned in the tent doorway.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
“Change of plans. We’re leaving today. Now.”
“Who’s coming? What did she mean?”
“The death squad.” He hurried about the tent, shoving gear into an old, worn duffel. She watched him stuff in climbing rope, carabiners, a belt full of tools, a portable laser torch, and some water.
“Who is the death squad?”
“The PPC sends them to wipe us out. It’s why I need your help. They’ve already killed too many of our people.”
“Can’t you fight them?”
“They have the numbers, and the advanced tech. And they keep finding us. We can’t stay in a single place for long. Firehawk thinks that if we carry off this mission, we’ll know their movements before they can reach us.” He looked away, that haunted expression returning to his face. “We want to end their operation for good.”
She saw now why he’d been so insistent. “Where do we have to go?”
“Delta City.”
She tilted her head.
“I’m guessing you’re not from that one.”
She gave him a blank stare.
“Delta City,” he elaborated. “AKA Murder City.”
“Murder City?”
“Sadly. You’ll see what I mean when we get there.”
“How far is it?”
“It’s right here. Damn thing stretches from east of Lake Michigan all the way down to the Mississippi delta. It’s everywhere. We’re on the eastern border.” He stuffed a jacket into his bag and then turned to her. “But we don’t have to worry about all that. We’re concentrating on a specific section of the city: the PPC Tower.”
H124 thought of the one in New Atlantic, and how heavily guarded it was. “How do you expect to get in?”
“Simple,” he said, grabbing her hand. “You’re going to get us in.”
She let him pull her to the door. “Are we taking my car?”
He nodded. “It’s quiet. We’ll take it to the edge of the atmospheric shield.”
She frowned, watching him as he packed the last of his supplies. Maybe she could slip away somehow after they were done. Maybe he wouldn’t be keeping so close an eye on her after he got what he needed in the city. And the media communications tower presented an interesting opportunity. Could she somehow carry off a pirate broadcast? Warn people of the imminent danger? Tell them to break away from the networks and seek shelter? She didn’t know where those people could hide . . . maybe underground somewhere. She could broadcast some contingency plan in case she didn’t find the Rovers.
And in case the Rovers didn’t know what to do, even if she did locate them.
They moved quickly through the camp, stopping at the solar car. Two others approached, both giants in their mid-twenties, she guessed. The woman had been the one
