Extracted (17 page)

TING, TING, TING, TING. I look down and see what has taken out two members of my team. Four red, feathered darts have hit my machine leg. I pick one up and roll it between my fingers. Gear Heads don’t fire darts, I realize, looking up. There are two small turrets mounted in the tunnel, and both are firing rapidly. Without thinking, I grab two bricks of C-4 off Slap Stick’s belt and throw them at the turrets. They hit with thick slaps and cover the barrels. That threat is taken care of, but the darts are only part of the problem. There’s something a lot bigger than Gear Heads blocking our way. I catch a glimpse of it as it slips behind the next corner.

“Nobel! Bruce!” I yell back to where the others are crouched. “Get over here! And bring Miss Liberty!”

They hurry down the tunnel wall and cross over to the intersection where I still kneel.

“Here, give me Miss Liberty,” I order. “And take this. Keep the Gear Heads off me.”

I hand over the prod and Nobel passes me the sculpture. He and Bruce step forward in the tunnel and continue chopping away at the onslaught of Gear Heads.

I break off the windmill, earning me a horrified gasp from Nobel.

“Oh man, why did you have to do that?”

“Because we’re low on weapons, three members of our team are down, and this mission is circling the toilet in a hurry.”

I take the small pipe and scramble over to where the darts fell after hitting my fake leg. I grab all four and crawl back to the intersection, stuffing one of the feathers into the hollow windmill post.

“Now we have a leg up,” I say, holding up my makeshift weapon and tossing the unusable body aside.

I see the creature turn and face us. It’s carrying a syringe full of clear liquid. It’s only sort of a person. It’s wearing a long white lab coat and a mask of brass and leather. Bits of thin, brown hair poke out around the edges of the mask, which looks not unlike Bruce’s. As a matter of fact, I have to glance over at him to see if he knows the strange creature. The stunned look on his face suggests he doesn’t. I leap forward, blowing on the small hollow rod. THUP…I load another…THUP…reload… THUP. Finally, I load the last dart and wait. A hiss of steam escapes the clockwork gears in the center of its chest and the creature crumples to the ground.

“Wow, nice shot,” Bruce says as he steps forward, kicking the creature with the toe of his boot.

“What is it?” I ask.

He shrugs.

Just then the room shimmers and Journey reappears. “I left Sisson back at Wardenclyffe. Figured you might still need me. So, what now?”

As we wait for Slap Stick to wake up, I try to fix Miss Liberty. Not my best work—we’ll have to manually crank it, but hey, believe it or not, it actually works. I hand it to Nobel, hoping his payback won’t be as bad now. Bruce hunches over Slap Stick, who is beginning to stir. He then comes to, wildly swinging his fists. Bruce has to dodge a few punches to keep from getting slugged.

“What happened?” Slap Stick asks, bringing one hand to his head. Once Bruce helps him sit up, Slap Stick retrieves a piece of unused blast cord from the floor, wipes it off on his pant leg, and inserts it into the corner of his mouth. He begins to chew on it like it’s a straw.

“You got tranqed,” Journey says.

“Am I permanently damaged?” Slap Stick says.

“No, I don’t think so,” I say, clearing away the last of the dead Gear Heads from our path. “You’ll probably be woozy for a while, but we still have to get into Tesla.”

Nobel cranks on Miss Liberty and the arrow shows us which way we need to go at the intersection.

“What do we do about that thing?” Journey asks, pointing to the fallen creature.

Bruce kicks Tesla’s Frankenstein again, in the fleshy part. The creature doesn’t move.

“Leave it,” I decide. “We have to hurry now. If those things know we’re here, someone else might, too.”

We navigate as quickly as possible, relying mostly on Journey’s memory of the map rather than Miss Liberty. It’s risky, but it saves us some time.

“Here it is!” Journey says finally.

We’ve arrived at a rusted metal grate. I kick it and it practically disintegrates. We duck through the opening. I know we’re inside Tesla now. The walls are smooth metal, polished like steel. There are red floodlights overhead and doors that open up on either side of the long corridor.

“Which door is it?” I ask. They all look the same. Each has a small keypad at eye level on the right, but there are no markings.

“Third door on the left, according to the maps,” Journey answers with total confidence.

Slap Stick doesn’t hesitate. He jogs over and places small bits of C-4 around the corners of the door. As he works, the blast cord wags back and forth in his mouth.

“Ready?” he asks, jogging back to us as we all crouch down once more. I give him the signal and the blast echoes through the chamber. After a few heartbeats, the door falls in with a thud.

We file inside, leaving Bruce to guard the door. As the dust settles, the room becomes clearer. The walls are a warm copper color with elaborate designs carved into the metal. Some are just swirls of shapes, but some, I realize, are numbers and signs. Formulas.

“Alchemy,” Nobel explains looking at the designs. “An archaic combination of magic and science.”

Shelves of dark wood form lines down the middle of the room. It’s like a library, only with less books and more tech. In the far corner is an old-fashioned elevator. Even though it’s tarnished with large flecks and streaks of green, it’s still very elegant. It sits there as a majestic symbol of what once was. Nobel immediately moves to check the functionality of the old machine. The gears haven’t turned forever and the elevator probably hasn’t delivered anything to Tesla for over a century.

“It’s not here,” Journey says, her voice small and confused.

“What do you mean?” I demand.

“It’s wrong. I think we are in the wrong place.”

Bruce looks in, rolling his eyes. “This is the vault. Look at all this tech. Grab what you can and let’s get out of here.”

I look at the objects on the shelves. They’re pieces, not complete machines.

“No, she’s right. This is like a parts room or something.”

Trying not to let my frustration show, I set Miss Liberty on the ground and give her a crank. Her beam of light bounces off the ceiling above us.

We all look upward. She has clearly answered our question. We have to go up.

“Then it’s a good thing I got this old elevator working.” Nobel smirks and hits a button with his elbow, making the ancient machine grind to life. Tesla must know we’re here by now. All we can do now is get what we came for before his troops arrive.

We heave the doors open, and crowd into the rickety elevator. The old brass cage is going to deliver something to Tesla one last time.

The alarm rips through my bunk like a sonic blast. The air gets heavy and thick as the Institute pressurizes to prevent airborne, viral weapons. Tesla’s voice comes bursting through the overhead speakers.

“All Rifters to the armory. Institute breach in progress.”

I fling off my blanket like it’s on fire and pull on my vest, pants, and boots. The door to my room slides open and Ethan is standing there, his hair disheveled with lack of sleep. He grabs my hand and we sprint down to the armory. When we arrive, everyone else is already there. Kara is alert, dressed in black leather and silver chains. Flynn hands her a lash, a sort of electrified whip, and then types furiously into the computer hub.

“We have a verified breach in the lower tunnels, the north steam shaft, and the vault room. Motion sensors are going crazy down there,” Flynn says, adjusting his glasses.

Ethan speaks, not looking up from the stunner he’s just grabbed. “Tesla, how many are there?”

“Five intruders in elevator ten, heading for the vault,” Tesla’s scratchy voice announces through the intercom closest to us.

Flynn swears and shoots a glance at Mistress Catherine. She grabs a lash and attaches it to a hook on her belt. I step forward, my hand hovering over the last lash on the table when Flynn covers my hand with his.

“It’s close quarters in there. Here.” He hands me a palm pulse. “Take this. Just hit the button and throw it. It’s an EMP grenade.”

Ethan lifts his head and looks my way. “Be very careful with that, Ember. It’ll disable any active tech in the vicinity, but it’ll also knock out Tesla’s sensors, too, at least temporarily.”

I nod and slip the device into my breast pocket. Hand-to-hand combat it is. I smirk. Good. It will feel really nice to pound on them with my bare knuckles. Maybe I’ll be very lucky and get a rematch with the girl who got the jump on me back at the Fair. Ethan picks up a stunner and follows the others to the door.

“Tesla, monitor their position. Let us know if anything changes,” Flynn orders the computer, which chirps in response.

Flynn puts his hand on Kara’s shoulder and leads her out the door. His face is as hard as I’ve ever seen it and I understand why. Our home is under attack. The sensation in my skin is a mixture of rage and violation so strong my hands shake. Looking over my shoulder I give Ethan what I hope is a reassuring smile. All I can think about is how much I want to make the Hollows pay for this invasion—how much I want to make them hurt.

Sirens wail, cutting through the stillness like a grenade, the sound momentarily freezing each of us in our tracks. They all look to me.

“If they come through that door, you guys swallow your Contra and get out,” I order.

Nobel shakes his head. “We aren’t leaving without the Dox, Lex. You aren’t the only one who wants Stein back.”

I nod and they go back to rummaging through the shelves.

In a matter of minutes, we are standing outside the door to the vault. I’ve never actually been inside but I know there must be something inside that room the Hollows want badly if they’re willing to risk their lives for it. That alone means they should never get their hands on it. Every piece of Tesla’s experimental tech is behind those doors. For a moment, I’m curious what they might be after. All the weapons that work are in the armory, after all. Maybe it’s something else. At the end of the day, though, none of that really matters. What matters is that these traitors broke into my home and are stealing from my family, and they’re going to try to kill us once we open this door.

Flynn and Catherine flank the door with Kara behind them, and Ethan and I on the other side. Tactically, going through this door is a mistake. My training tells me that much. Funneling us through a doorway will only make it easier to take us out. As Catherine reaches for the door pad, I stop her.

“Wait. Why don’t Ethan and I drop in from the air vents? We can draw their fire away from the door long enough for you to come in safely.”

Flynn pauses, considering the idea. Finally, he nods.

“You have two minutes until we breach this door,” he says firmly.

“No problem.” I motion to Ethan, and we back around the corner and down the hall to the vent duct. He carefully pulls off the cover and we crawl inside. The space is tight but maneuverable. My blood is singing in my ears. I’ve never felt so on edge, so ready for a fight. Maybe it’s all the pent-up tension, or maybe I’m just having some kind of aftereffects from the branding. I flush, remembering how I let my nerves get the best of me. I made a total fool out of myself in front of everyone. I’m so tired of being the weakest link.

It only takes a few seconds before I can hear the Hollows beneath us. We slide onto our butts and hold our feet over the large square grate. Ethan uses his fingers to count us down from three. In unison we stomp down on the grate and fall into the middle of the vault. I land, roll to my feet, and lunge forward.

There’s a giant standing there, facing me. He’s not much older than me, if at all, but his sheer size makes me feel like a toddler. He has a belt of what looks like explosives hanging across his chest, and his face is caught in a moment of surprise at my appearance. The anger and fear mix inside my head like a chemical reaction and I lash out, kicking him in the knee so hard he drops to the ground. I kick him again, this time just under the chin, and send him flying backward into a metal file cabinet.

I hear Ethan behind me, but I don’t turn. A wiry, redheaded girl in black goggles comes flying at me. I grab her by the arm and spin so her back is pressed against my chest. Wrapping an arm around her neck, I squeeze until I feel her go limp and let her crumple to my feet. Ethan’s lash cracks and I turn. He’s fighting off a boy with a mechanical arm and a face that’s scarred and covered in tech.

A pair of arms grabs me from behind and lifts me off the ground.

From behind me a voice yells, “Drop her, Nobel. Now!”

I freeze. The voice tugs at something in the frayed edges of my mind.

“Why? She’s one of them,” the boy holding me yells back.

“Because—she’s my sister.”

My breath leaves my body in a rush as I collide with the floor. In that second I hear the door whoosh open. The others flood in, immediately joining the fray. My eyes are watering as I roll to my feet and look up into a familiar face.

I feel her before I see her. Immediately the feeling of hot flames billows up my neck and my vision blurs. The room is burning. I can’t breathe. Have to hide. My bedroom. Men with guns yell. My clothes are burning into my skin. Anastasia—my Anya—puts out the fire on me with heavy blue drapes, then stuffs the bottle caps in my hand. A flash of light eats the memory.

My heart pounds while I hide behind all the jars of brains on the shelf. Our friend Rasputin tells her that I ran down the hall. He has saved me from losing the hide-and-seek game with her. When Anya can’t find me, Rasputin winks and I laugh. Now I don’t have to be “it” for the time being. Another flash.

Anya is gone. I’m not sure where she went, but I’m alone in the flames and I’m crying. My skin hurts from the burning. I see a man in a blue conductor’s coat. Am I going to the hospital on the train? I like trains. I crawl onto his back and the world around me disappears.