Project HALO

Chapter 12

"Darling? Princess? Darling princess? Princess... Darling?"

The voice comes from far away, nothing but a distant whisper at first.

I pull the pillow over my head to shut it up, but it only grows louder.

"Princess Darling, it's time to wake up!"

"Mmm, I don't wanna," I mumble into the pillow and tug the duvet closer.

"I know you need the extra beauty sleep, but this ain't the time for luxuries." Mikey pokes me in the back. "We have to find the flash drive, remember?"

With those words, everything slams back into my head like a car crash.

I throw the bedcover off with a groan. "Fine. But I need some food first."

"I knew you'd say that, so I ordered some burgers."

"Don't tell anyone I said this, but... you're the best." I grin.

I'm so hungry I could eat the bed. I pull my clothes on, step into my shoes, and we walk downstairs where we're met by the delicious smell of grilled, juicy meat and fresh french fries.

"I need ketchup." Mikey detours to the kitchen while I continue to the living room. I sit down on the closest couch and reach for one of the two warm take-away boxes on the table.

Half of the burger disappears after the first bite. I'm alone with my burger and desperate munching sounds when a strange clicking sound makes me pause mid-chew.

"Was that you?" I ask Mikey, but only get a distant "what?" back.

It's probably normal to be extra paranoid after all this, but I'm certain I heard a click. Maybe someone locked a door down the hall, but... No. It was something else, a sound I recognize but can't quite place.

Mikey comes back into the living room and opens his mouth to speak, but I hush him. "Did you hear that?"

"No?" Mikey cups his ear as if that will help him hear better.

I rise slowly from the couch. My burger threatens to come back up the next time I hear the sound.

Guns.

Guns are being loaded nearby.

This is not a neighborhood where people fly around with weapons, but I'm certain.

Mikey runs over to the largest window to see what's happening. I follow him, even though none of us should do that if there are weapons outside, but I have to check if my suspicion is correct.

It is.

A lump lodges in my stomach, spreading out like quicksilver.

They are several stories below us, guns in their hands and helmets on their heads. How could I hear them from here?

A small group of people wearing maroon uniforms makes their way into the building. A breath hitches in my throat and I shove Mikey behind me. I recognize the uniforms. They're the ones who drugged me and brought me to the NIC. But who are they? Soldiers? Undercover police? Doesn't matter. No matter who they are, we have to leave.

Two of them remain outside, guarding the entrance, casually talking with George. For once, I wish the regular police were here instead. At least I know I can outrun them.

With a swift movement, I grab the key from the table and jam it into my shoe, underneath my heel.

"Mikey, we have to—"

That's the only thing I manage to say before the front door smashes in. The chain rips open with a loud clink, the door slams against the wall, and one after one, soldiers charge in with heavy steps, weapons aimed straight at us.

Fuck. I clench my teeth together and search for an escape route. They were much closer than I thought. No wonder I could hear them if they were waiting right outside.

There's no way out. The elevator is the only way down. Either that, or we jump out from the ninth floor. I step closer to Mikey, who's only a couple of meters away from the soldier in front. When the soldier cocks his gun, Mikey throws his hands up and falls to his knees, his arms shaking when the barrel follows his movement.

"Who are you?" I demand.

They don't answer. Yep, they are definitely working for the NIC.

"Neutralize them," one of them says. "Both of them."

A helmet and dark glasses hide most of the soldier's face. His mouth is a thin, tight line as he gestures, waving a finger in the air.

Out of nowhere, a soldier on the other side of the room shoots Mikey.

My mouth opens but I stop breathing.

The next seconds go by in slow motion.

I'm too stunned to move, my voice trapped somewhere between my rapid pulse and my trembling lips. I've never seen Mikey's eyes so big.

"No!" I scream when I find my voice. Even my voice is slowed down and darker, sounding nothing like me.

A second later, Mikey's lids drop and he crumbles to the floor.

The sickening thump from his body against the wooden floor freezes the blood in my veins.

My body is stiff, every muscle flexed, every nerve yelling run! but I'm stuck.

I consider jumping out the window again, anything to keep the bastards from getting me. But before I run for it, I notice that no blood is coming from Mikey's body. No dark-red pool on the pristine floor. Not even a drop. If they shot him, he would bleed. That's just how it works. I take a closer look and see a tiny needle in his neck, not a bullet.

Thank god.

They only drugged him.

The pain in my chest dissolves and I can breathe again.

The shock may have frozen me for a moment, but now I'm furious, my head so hot it could explode. No one is safe when I black out, and right now, everything turns dark.

I grab a big vase and some crystal candle holders from the nearest shelf and throw them as hard as I can in the direction where most of the soldiers stand. The porcelain and glass crush against their helmets, against the walls, against the floor, shattering, diverging them for a few seconds. That's all I need.

My gaze is fixed on the soldier that shot Mikey. He's on the other side of the room.

I leap onto the coffee table and jump over the couch, charging at him with all my strength. He can't even lift his gun before I slam down onto him.

He crashes into the wall and falls to the floor like one of the art pieces.

The gun drops out of his hand, but I don't care. I rip his helmet off and smash his head against the floor. Twice.

Then I'm shot.

As a reply, I grab this guy's gun and shoot wildly at the rest of them. It won't kill them, but escaping a bunch of unconscious guys is easier than escaping a crew of armed ones.

I hit a couple of them, but they hit me as well. My head turns mushier by the second, a potato turning into mash. My vision blurs. My brain screams at me, begging me not to pass out, not now, but I do.