But then what was this? John was dead. She was alone with his cooling body. Why was she feeling him? She put her fingers back on his throat. No pulse. He was still dead.
She must be going mad.
“No Caitlin. I’m here.”
“John?” If her emotions hadn’t already tightened the muscles of her throat, she would have screamed. “How can this be? I felt you die.”
“I know, but something is letting me hold on to you. It’s some trait of the translator. I don’t know why, but it’s giving me an anchor I can hold to.”
“Oh, God, John. I don’t want to stay here without you.”
“I know. I feel everything you feel. But the knife isn’t the answer. There’s another way.”
“Another way? What?”
“Slip the translator off my neck and put it on. Then we’ll give these people a surprise.”
Caitlin looked up. Tears still blurred her vision, but she could see Romax and Holdren talking a few feet away. Neither faced her. A half dozen or so guards milled around in groups of twos and threes. They talked among themselves in hushed voices and moved from foot to foot as though the cold was getting to them.
Caitlin could no longer feel the cold.
She continued to sob, maintaining the ruse, as she slipped one hand under John’s coat and shirt until her fingers closed about the oval shape of the translator. It was sticky with blood.
Pulling it out, she lifted his head gently from her lap to free the chain and then used both hands to drape it over her head.
Her movement drew Romax’s attention. He watched her curiously, staring even, but made no move to stop her.
She unzipped her coat and dropped the oval inside her blouse against her bare skin. As the translator settled next to hers, she felt the contact with John strengthened past all limits.
“That’s good. Very good. I can feel everything you feel. It’s almost as if we were sharing your body.”
“I know. Bodies and minds. It’s an incredible sensation. Now what?”
“The detonator, take it out of my pocket, and then let me take control. Perhaps we can get you out of this yet.”
“Even if we can’t, just make sure they don’t take me alive.”
“I don’t want you to die too, Caitlin.”
“And I don’t want to live without you.”
“You have me now,” he said.
“But if they take me they are sure to separate us. Would you stay here without me?”
“You know I wouldn’t,” John said.
“And I don’t want to stay here without you. So either get me free, or let me die too.”
John could feel her resolve. It was what she wanted and he could find no reason or will to talk her out of it. “All right, I’ll keep us together, one way or another.”
Without another word, John felt Caitlin sliding back, releasing control.
S/he felt the snow blow against his face and gazed up into Romax’s eyes.
Romax’s face darkened with sudden alarm, as if he had seen something he couldn’t believe.
John kept their eyes on Romax’s as he put their hand inside the corpse’s pocket and closed their fingers on the detonator. With their thumb s/he toggled the selector to the “all” position and pressed the switch.
The night erupted with fire and thunder from a dozen locations.
The guards staggered under multiple crashing shock waves.
Holdren dove into the snow.
Only Romax kept his feet as he reached for a holstered weapon.
John snatched up the Ashley knife and lunged to their feet.
S/he closed on Romax as the man’s hand emerged with a Berretta. John pounded the hilt of the knife into Romax’s temple while grasping the gun with their other hand.
Romax’s knees buckled.
John switched the knife to their left hand while transferring the gun to their right. S/he thumbed the safety and turned on the nearest guard as he rose, gun in hand.
S/he fired twice. The first bullet tore open the man’s throat. Blood gushed from the wound. The second bullet dissolving the man’s right eye in a spray of liquid. His body fell forward onto the snow as the stream of blood from his severed carotid artery changed into a slow seepage as his heart stopped beating.
Holdren was rising from the snow. John took two steps toward him and snap-kicked him in the jaw. The impact hurt more than it should have. Caitlin’s body just didn’t have the mass of John’s and couldn’t take the same level of contact. S/he shifted their aim to the next guard; the woman was kneeling at the front of the farther Humvee. John got off two more rounds while the woman fired once. Her shot missed. Their’s didn’t.
A man lunged at them from the side of the nearer Humvee. John spun on their left foot as the man passed like a bull passing the matador. As he passed, John drove their knife into the side of the man’s throat. Twisting the blade, s/he yanked it clear, ripping open both carotid and jugular.
Clutching at his throat, the man fell to his knees.
Someone else fired from behind the farther Humvee. John dropped to the ground, rolled, and fired three rounds under the vehicle.
A woman went down screaming, her left leg spurting blood.
The last two guards were rising behind them. John raised the gun and fired, catching the nearer man high on the thigh and dropping him back to the ground.
The Berretta’s slide locked open.
It should have had at least four more rounds. Romax must have fired it earlier.
Before s/he could stand, the last guard reached them. A burley fist closed on her knife hand and
