Suicide Squad (22 page)

“When they put their damned bomb in my neck. It’s powerful enough to blow even you to tiny bits.”

“There is that, mate,” Boomer said, nodding. “We don’t have any choice. But, Flaggy, I hope you realize that also means we’re not actually on your side. We’re just going along for the ride, until we don’t have to anymore.”

Flag kept walking. “I don’t need your loyalty, Harkness. All I want from you are your boomerangs, doing whatever the hell I need them to do.”

“I can just hand ’em over to you, and then go back to sleep in my cell. I’d enjoy watching you try to handle them.”

Diablo sided up to Boomer and put a hand on his shoulder. For just an instant Harkness thought the big man might be getting ready to set him on fire, but Diablo just wanted to talk.

“This is not the time to fight among ourselves,” he said somberly, “and it’s definitely not the time to argue with him. Flag holds all the cards.”

“Yeah, well, according to you, it’s never the time to fight. So when, exactly, did you become a loser?”

“When I figured out that fighting destroys you, and killing doesn’t strengthen you. Never. Believe me. I know.”

“I like fighting and I like killing,” Boomerang said, and he laughed. “And when I kill I feel good. So your theory’s all shot to hell.”

“But that blissful feeling is only temporary. Kills are like drugs. You need more and more to get that same feeling again. Today it’s one kill. Tomorrow two. Next week it’ll take a dozen. Not only is there no end in sight, but after a while you forget why you ever started. Your need for relief, rather than your intellect, takes over—and it is insatiable.”

Boomerang laughed and looked to Deadshot. “Lawton, you’re an assassin, mate. You wanna tell the boys what you think about killing?”

“I don’t,” Deadshot responded. “It’s just my job. How I pay the rent. Nothing to get emotional about.”

Flag turned to him with a look of disgust. “And what does your daughter think about it? How much of that part of your life have you shown to Zoe?”

Lawton didn’t like the question. He had always tried to separate his life from his work. He never told Zoe exactly what he did, and he never wanted her to learn the truth.

“She… she said she still loves me.”

“Because of, or in spite of?”

Deadshot closed his eyes, and again took control of his anger.

Later
, he thought fiercely.
Not now. When the time is right. When Zoe is mine again. When this bastard can’t separate us again. Nothing else matters. Nothing but Zoe.

“Screw you, Flag,” he said aloud. “Don’t we have VIPs to rescue and monsters to kill? So how about we shut up and do our job?”

* * *

It was only a few minutes later when they reached the atrium, a soaring, inspiring cathedral of glass in the center court of the vast government complex. Flag checked the blueprints then headed toward the closest stairwell.

“This way,” he said. “Elevator’s not trustworthy. We’re taking the stairs. It’ll be good for your cardio.”

“The stairs? For crap’s sake,” Boomer said. “I definitely did not sign up for that.” He looked at the stairs, then back to the others. “Hey. Where’s the cuckoo bird? She’s not here.”

“Maybe a dingo ate her,” Deadshot retorted.

Boomer laughed. “We can hope, mate. We can only hope.”

* * *

Harley leaned against the door to the glass elevator, bat propped by her side, cell phone in hand. She typed a quick message then hit “send.” Less than a minute later the phone buzzed. The reply.

I am close. Be ready.

The header said it had been sent by Mr. J.

Harley beamed with anticipation. As the elevator rose, she saw Deadshot staring up at her. She waved, but he was pointing frantically.

She looked up just as an EA punched through the roof panel and dropped inside. It lunged for her. She fell back and somersaulted over it, kicking while in mid-spin.

The thing slammed into the elevator’s glass wall, but used the impact to push itself back into Harley. It forced her to the ground and grabbed her by the throat. She twisted her legs around its head and snapped it back. It flipped over and landed on its feet, readying itself for another attack.

The monster was a horrifying sight, all that darkness covered over with dozens—if not hundreds—of eyes, staring at her, anxious to kill her. She was sick to her stomach, but she knew she couldn’t stop fighting long enough to throw up. Every second mattered.

Harley leapt and grabbed the EA by its head, smashing it again into the glass wall. This time it stayed down. She jumped on it, kneeing its mid-section, then remembered her gun, at home in the holster hanging from her belt. She tried to grab it, but the thing kicked up and slammed her to the other side of the elevator.

It scrambled back to its feet and lunged for her. Its hands grabbed her throat again, but this time with more force. Instantly she was having trouble breathing.

White explosions blinded her. She tried to knee it again, but she didn’t have the strength to drive it back. Hands still wrapped around her throat, it pushed her to the floor and squeezed her even harder.

Her hands reached for her gun, but the thing lifted her by the neck and slammed her into the wall. It stared into her eyes and growled. Her eyes rolled up into her head even as her hand finally found her gun.

She didn’t have to see the thing that was strangling her—she knew exactly where it was. She shoved the magnum under its chin and fired.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

“Go to hell, you stupid turd,” she screamed.

Its head exploded from its body. Black shards smashed her in the face. As the headless form slid to the ground, she wiped its parts from her eyes and spat out the remnants that had lodged in her mouth. Then she fell to the ground, heaving, trying to catch her breath. She needed a minute to regain control, maybe longer.

But she wasn’t allowed it.

A second EA swung down from the elevator roof and smashed its way through a pane of the elevator’s glass wall. She saw it stand to its full height. All its eyes stared at her. It looked hungry, anxious for the kill.

She ducked as it tried to grab her—spun, wrapped her legs around its feet, and pulled them out from under it. The thing fell to the floor. In an instant Harley was on top of it.

She was still holding her gun. She pushed it under the thing’s jaw, intending to blow it into pieces as she’d done with the other one, but it kicked her into the wall. She struggled to her feet, but the thing’s foot rested on a sharp piece of debris. It kicked up, propelling itself into her, causing her to drop her gun in surprise. The creature was on her before she could retrieve it.

It became a hand-to-hand fight.

The EA was bigger than she was, and stronger, but Harley was more agile. She dove between the thing’s legs and then cannoned her feet into its back, kicking it into the glass.

It jumped back to its feet and tried to punch her. She ducked under its fist and, with both hands locked together, slammed it hard.

She barely fazed the beast. It tried to punch her again, and this time it connected. Hard. Harley reeled, saw bursts of light flashing all around her. Stunned, she fell back to the floor. She felt her bat on the floor next to her. She grabbed its grip and as the EA reached for her she swung it, smashing it into the thing’s face. Chunks of black exploded from it. Even with only half a face, though, it was still coming for her.

Harley slammed her bat into it again, separating its head from its shoulders. It wavered back and forth, but wasn’t yet going down for the count. She somersaulted at it and slammed her legs into its chest. For an instant nothing happened, but then the thing fell back, crashed through the shattered glass, and fell into the elevator shaft, disappearing into the darkness.

* * *

Deadshot and Croc ran to the elevator to join the fight, but when the doors opened, they saw Harley holding her bat over her shoulders, whistling as she calmly exited the elevator as if nothing had happened.

“Hi, guys,” she said merrily. “Don’t we have some big-bads to slaughter?”

Flag and the others approached. He looked at Harley, saw the shattered glass and a dead EA still in the elevator, and nodded approval.

“Okay,” he said, looking at the corpse. “Now we know they’re here. Keep moving. Stay together.” They made their way down a long corridor, offices on all sides. Flag paused in front of a dark office.

“Ready?”

Deadshot felt the hairs on his neck bristle. “We’re walking into a shooting gallery, aren’t we? You sure about this?”

Flag shook his head. “I don’t like it, either, but it’s the only way in. Let’s do it.”

He opened the door and they entered.

The office area was larger than he’d expected. Workstation cubicles filled nearly every open space. The lights were down, and Flag and the others, weapons ready, entered carefully. More than likely EAs were everywhere in the building. They had to be here, too.

The cubicles were designed in a clear grid, giving them a series of easy paths via which to conduct their search. Sticking close together, they started by moving up the left-most aisle, pausing before each self-contained space, their guns leading them.

Looking for the enemy. Praying none were there.

Nothing.

At the end of the aisle they turned right and started down the second row. They paused at each cubicle.

Then they heard breathing. Heavy and labored.

Something was in here with them. Whatever it was, it was too close.

“Who’s there?” Flag shouted. He wanted to add, “We’re the good guys,” but considering who was with him, he didn’t see how he could. “We’re feds,” he continued. “Navy SEALs… and others. We’re on your side.”

Close enough for government work.

No answer, but the heavy breathing became louder. Coming from straight ahead. Somewhere down this aisle.

Flag dispatched a small group of the SEALs to go back the way they came, then to circle around and come up from behind the source of the sound, effectively trapping the heavy breather between the two groups.

“Hello,” Flag said again. If there were human beings here, he wanted to give them every possible chance to get past their fears.

No response.

They’d seen how hard it was to kill the bastards, they were severely lacking ammo, and they had no idea how many of the damned things were laying in wait.

“This is gonna be a bloodbath,” Boomerang whispered nervously. Flag shot him a dirty look.

Shut up, idiot
, it said. For once Boomer obeyed a direct order.

* * *

They found it crouched behind a desk in a far cubicle. Breathing ominously. It was wearing the tatters of what had once been a uniform.

A SEAL uniform.

Its eyes were red with hate and less than an hour before this monster had been one of them. Other creatures were crouched behind him. Their eyes, too, red with bloodlust and hate. All of their hundreds of eyes. Kane, Pérez, Levitz, Sprang, Winslow—GQ’s friends and teammates. People with whom he had once trusted his life. Monsters who now only wanted to kill him.

They were waiting.

They were ready.

* * *

Time seemed to slow down. Flag signaled for his crew to stop. Deadshot saw the eyes burning red. He pulled on his mask and flipped its monocle into place. Then he saw Harley staring at him, shaking her head, laughing.

“Weakling,” she said. “Not tough enough? Afraid of them? Did I tell you I took out two? All by myself.”

“Shut up,” Deadshot snapped back. “I’ll knock you out cold. I don’t care if you are a girl.”

Harley laughed again. “Promises, promises. It’s like I—”

All hell broke loose before she could even finish her sentence.

The EAs opened fire. Flag and the others jumped for cover.

“Ambush front,” Flag bellowed. “Move.”

Deadshot was overwhelmed. Three more creatures rushed in through the door. He saw Flag run toward the opposite side of the room, firing at anything that moved.

“Where the hell are you going, Flag?” Deadshot fired at the scurrying monsters. Though it was close quarters, they were damned hard to hit in the darkness.

“We’re out in the open, waiting to be picked off,” Flag replied. “We need cover. Find a corner. It’ll be easier to defend.”

Deadshot agreed. “Front. Right. Go.”

Flag ran down the rightmost aisle. He shot at the eyes of the creatures following him, then there was the sound of shattering glass. More EAs streamed in through what had been a side window, and were on his tail. The way ahead was cut off, too, sandwiching him in, leaving him no place to run.

Deadshot quickly scanned the room. The things ignored the SEALs and the Squad—they were all targeting Flag. For just a moment Deadshot laughed—the bastard deserved whatever he got—but then the instant joy he felt was gone.

“They’re after Flag,” he shouted to his Squad.

“His problem,” Boomer said. “I got my own.”

“No. They’re leaving us alone… maybe just for now. Circle up. Circle around him. We gotta save him.”

“You’re crazy,” Boomer said.

“Do what I say, dammit.”

Flag was surrounded, but he kept his ice-cold calm as he unloaded mags into the things. Suddenly Deadshot grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him back. The Squad formed into a circle, and Lawton tossed him into the middle of it.

“Get in here,” he ordered.

Flag stared at him. “You crazy? Let me fight.”

“You die, I die. So you ain’t dying.” The circle closed around Flag. The convicts he hated were saving him. The world had turned upside down when he wasn’t looking.

“They’re trying to kill me,” Flag shouted.

Deadshot grinned. “They’re gonna have to get in line behind me.”

* * *

More of the things. GQ recognized too damn many of them. They swarmed through the office and rushed the circle, ready to breach it and tear apart Flag.

“Shoot!” Deadshot shouted. “Don’t stop ’til I tell you to.”

GQ raised his gun and aimed it at an approaching creature. Then he stared at it, surprised and horrified.