HAYWIRE: A Pandemic Thriller (The F.A.S.T. Series Book 2) (48 page)

King pointed Erin silently to the floor. He moved to the far end of the display case.

King held up three fingers.

Forest nodded, feeling his adrenaline surge.

...3

...2

...1

Now!

Both Marines opened fire on the gunmen.

The closest gunman took the brunt of the surprise attack. He withered instantly. So many bullets tore through his body that he likely died on his feet.

Forest switched targets, drawing down on the man wearing overalls.

As he fired, the man dove into cover behind a life-size model of a tall ship’s wheel deck.

Damn it,
cursed Forest.
There’re two left.

From the reconstructed wheel deck a mast stretched up to the ceiling. Two wax figures stood on the deck, one at the wheel, the other peering through a telescope.

Forest checked his ammo.

Only eight rounds left.

He glanced over at King.

King held up one hand, his fingers spread.

King only had five rounds left.

Forest made the flanking gesture.

King nodded, took a glance toward the ship, and then ran from behind the display cabinet.

Forest heard instant gunfire.

He resisted the urge to fire back. With only eight rounds in the bullet-bank, he needed to spend them wisely.

Forest dashed in the opposite direction, sprinting toward a display of old diving equipment. He skidded into cover behind a life-sized figure wearing a huge brass diving helmet.

He glanced around the display and saw something terrible.

King was moving again.

He was running in obvious sight of the gunmen.

Forest spotted the men hiding in the shadows behind the tall ship. One instantly fired on King.

At such a close range, the man couldn’t miss.

The first bullet exploded through King’s upper thigh. Forest saw blood spray out from the bullet’s exit wound.

The impact punched King’s leg sideways. His body twisted toward the gunman, providing an even larger target.

Bullets stuttered up King’s torso.

Blood sprayed out behind King.

His huge body
crashed
into a display of clay urns.

Forest fired a split second later.

The man shooting at King took four bullets right between his shoulder blades. Every bullet was a heart or lung shot. Before the man collapsed forward, Forest switched targets and fired at the second man.

The second man exploded.

His body actually flew apart.

 His torso between his hips and shoulders crumbled into pieces the size of Forest’s fist. His shoulders, arms and head tumbled to the floor.

His legs didn’t move.

They stayed standing upright, joined at the hips, completely disconnected from the missing body.

That’s impossible
, thought Forest.

Then he saw the truth.

It’s another wax statue!

Erin shouted from behind cover.

‘Forest. Look out!’

Forest spun.

From behind Forest, the man wearing the overalls charged.

He raised something to attack.

His weapon resembled a medieval lance with a broken shaft. He only held the handle, a hand guard, and a short section of hollow shaft.

Forest needed to finish this man quickly and help King.

At that moment a blinding blue light erupted from the man’s weapon. Now the weapon truly did resemble a lance, but not like any Forest had ever seen.

The weapon swung sideways toward Forest’s head.

Forest’s first reaction was to block the attack with his empty rifle.

His instincts screamed otherwise.

Forest followed his instincts. He barely ducked in time. He avoided the glowing blade, but not the heat. Had he not been wearing a helmet, he felt sure his hair would have caught on fire.

Without slowing, the weapon cleaved straight through the giant metal diving helmet.

It’s plasma,
realized Forest.
He has a lance made of plasma!

Nothing else could slice through metal like butter.

As the man swung again, Forest dove away, tucking into a roll to put some distance between himself and certain death. He came to his feet running.

He reached the wax legs.

Two steps further lay the gunman he’d shot. The man’s body covered his fallen firearm. Losing precious moments, Forest wrenched the corpse aside and grabbed the weapon.

He lifted and turned in one movement, finding the trigger as the blazing plasma carved toward him.

The plasma struck first.

The front half of Forest’s firearm spun away.

Forest stumbled back from the incredible heat wave.

He threw down the red-hot remains of the firearm and leaped over the corpse.

The man smirked. ‘You’re as nimble as a monkey, aren’t you, boy?’

Forest slowly backed away.

The man matched Forest step for step, as though it were a game.

Forest backed away through a display of cannons, expecting the man to lunge at any moment.

The man stamped his boot on the deck. ‘Can you feel the ship sinking?’

Forest didn’t respond.

‘I did that,’ claimed the man. ‘I’m sending the largest cruise ship ever built to the bottom of the ocean.’

He let the plasma lance slide along the top of a cannon. Liquid metal dripped off the cannon and sizzled on the deck.

Forest searched for anything he could use as a weapon. Everything was either made of wax or bolted to the floor.

‘Who are you?’ asked Forest, stalling for time.

‘Bolton,’ the man replied. ‘But my name doesn’t matter. It’s what I do that matters.’

Forest backed past an eight-foot-long model of a whaling ship.

‘What can you do?’ asked Forest.

With one lazy sweep, Bolton sliced the plasma lance through the huge model ship. The model crashed to the deck in two halves. The model’s sails caught fire.

‘I sink ships.’

Bolton lifted his plasma lance. ‘I designed this to help me. It works well. I only have one test left for it.’

‘What’s that?’ asked Forest.

‘You,’ Bolton replied casually.

‘Not much of a test,’ commented Forest. ‘I think we both know it will cut me in half.’

Bolton raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re right. It will certainly cut you in half. But will the heat instantly cauterize the wound? If so, you could live quite some time like that. From the waist up, of course.’

Forest wasn’t enjoying this conversation.

Bolton seemed to be enjoying every sick second of it.

‘Of course, the human body is ninety percent water,’ Bolton continued. ‘Water explodes on contact with plasma. Maybe you’ll explode like that wax statue you shot.’

Forest found himself retreating down a narrow side gallery. He glanced over his shoulder.

Where the gallery ended, four chains suspended an anchor from the ceiling.

Forest turned and ran.

Bolton lunged.

The plasma’s heat swept across Forest’s back, but not the searing touch of the weapon itself.

Forest slid under the hanging anchor and leaped up again on the far side.

As Bolton charged, Forest hurled his full weight against the anchor.

He swung the heavy lump of steel straight at Bolton.

The attack surprised Bolton.

The anchor struck him right in the stomach. He doubled over from the impact. The anchor swung back toward Forest.

His head is down,
Forest realized.
He’s vulnerable!

Forest swung the anchor back straight at Bolton’s head.

Bolton looked up.

He saw the anchor.

He tried to duck.

Too late.

The anchor smacked into his forehead, splitting open a bright red gash.

This is it,
thought Forest.
Run!

Before Forest took a single step, Bolton swung his plasma lance. The lance cut the two chains suspending his side of the anchor.

The anchor instantly swung like a pendulum.

It swung straight back into Forest.

The impact lifted Forest off his feet. He flew backward through the air and—

CRASH!

His entire body smashed into a display cabinet. His body armor saved him from lacerations, but not from the stunning impact.

Bolton severed the last two chains.

The anchor crashed to the deck.

Blood streamed down Bolton’s face from the long gash in his forehead.

Forest could barely move. Glass pinned his body into the cabinet. He saw Bolton standing before him.

This is it,
thought Forest.
This is really going to happen. This is how I will die.

Bolton swung the lance.

Forest’s body armor never stood a chance. His ribcage, spine and internal organs offered absolutely no resistance to the twenty thousand degrees of white-hot plasma. Forest neither exploded nor had the separated parts of his body instantly cauterized.

None of these things happened, because Bolton never finished his attack.

THUNK

A huge blade emerged from Bolton’s chest.

The giant arrowhead spanned seven inches across.

The blade’s leading edge had surely cleaved through Bolton’s spine and ribs before erupting through his sternum.

Bolton’s heart must have been sliced cleanly in half.