Read Online Haven (The Last Humans Book 3) by Anna Zaires, Dima Zales - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anna Zaires, Dima Zales
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me vomit, but I’m not sure this body is capable of doing that. However, I do gag from the smell of burning flesh. As the man falls screaming, I position my right blade where his heart will be, and his torso impales itself on the blade. His severed limbs and the rest of his body dematerialize like every other Limbofied person’s.
“That’s amazing,” Phoe thinks excitedly. “I was indeed able to analyze the dematerialization process. At the core, it’s a data-compression algorithm, which obviously can be exploited. Quick, let’s Limbofy someone else so I can intercept the whole process.”
As if in answer to Phoe’s wish, Brandon makes Fiona’s knife-wielding helper disappear with a slice of his sword. The ancients had a saying along the lines of “don’t bring a knife to a gunfight,” but I think the wisdom applies to a sword fight as well. What’s really impressive about Brandon’s kill—or in Phoe’s terminology, Limbofication—is that he parried Fiona’s rapier in the same move he used to kill the woman.
“Crap,” Phoe mutters in my head. “I wasn’t ready just then. Though I did learn a bit more about the process.”
“If we don’t do something to help Fiona, you’ll get your chance when Brandon turns her into a shish kebab,” I think at Phoe. “Or when he Limbofies her, if you really prefer. In case it’s not obvious, I don’t want that to happen.”
Phoe assists in Fiona’s rescue by forcing my body to perform more gymnastics. I bring my legs under me and roll closer to Brandon. Brandon’s giant sword blocks my strike aimed at his legs, and before I can cut his torso with my left katana, he blocks me in the most unexpected manner—with his wings.
There’s a crunching sound as my sword cuts through the wing bones and the smell of burned feathers is disgustingly palatable, but my attacker is still very much alive. With the wounded wing no longer blocking my sight, I see that Brandon has managed to turn this painful outcome into an advantage. With his wings in my way, I lost sight of what he was doing, and I now watch as his sword swings toward my skull.
“This is it,” I think for Phoe’s benefit. “I’m going to die—again.”
10
D espite my conviction , I don’t die—thanks to Fiona. She thrusts her rapier in the path of Brandon’s sword right as it’s midway to my head. A painful metal-on-metal clang rings out, which is odd, since Fiona’s weapon doesn’t look metallic. Her arm ricochets backward with such violence that I’m sure her shoulder is dislocated. What’s really frustrating is that her move doesn’t even stop Brandon’s assault; it only slows it. However, it’s enough for me to sidestep before his sword can cleave my head in half.
In a shower of sparks, Brandon’s blade strikes the floor next to me.
I jackknife to my feet and perform a ballerina-like feat of dexterity by slicing each sword in opposite trajectories. I bury the right one in Brandon’s gut and plunge the left into his eye socket. Bile rises in my throat at the sight of the gore spilling out of Brandon when I yank the swords in a circular motion. Maybe I can vomit. Large chunks of slightly crispy flesh fall to the ground and then get digitized and disappear.
“Yes!” Phoe screams—and I do mean out loud. “Yep, I have a voice now,” she says in my mind before I can ask. “This is very promising. I got both his memories and a fraction of the resources Haven had allocated to him. This means things are not as bad as I thought, which is all the more reason for you to get out of here. If you go back into Limbo, we’re screwed.”
“I want to help Fiona escape,” I think back. “She saved me.”
“Fine,” Phoe says. “Tell her to follow you.”
“Our only chance is escaping through that door,” I tell Fiona, who’s dazedly staring at the empty spot where Brandon’s body used to be. “Follow me.”
I run for the entrance, hoping Fiona heard me and is on my heels.
“That’s amazing,” Phoe thinks excitedly. “I was indeed able to analyze the dematerialization process. At the core, it’s a data-compression algorithm, which obviously can be exploited. Quick, let’s Limbofy someone else so I can intercept the whole process.”
As if in answer to Phoe’s wish, Brandon makes Fiona’s knife-wielding helper disappear with a slice of his sword. The ancients had a saying along the lines of “don’t bring a knife to a gunfight,” but I think the wisdom applies to a sword fight as well. What’s really impressive about Brandon’s kill—or in Phoe’s terminology, Limbofication—is that he parried Fiona’s rapier in the same move he used to kill the woman.
“Crap,” Phoe mutters in my head. “I wasn’t ready just then. Though I did learn a bit more about the process.”
“If we don’t do something to help Fiona, you’ll get your chance when Brandon turns her into a shish kebab,” I think at Phoe. “Or when he Limbofies her, if you really prefer. In case it’s not obvious, I don’t want that to happen.”
Phoe assists in Fiona’s rescue by forcing my body to perform more gymnastics. I bring my legs under me and roll closer to Brandon. Brandon’s giant sword blocks my strike aimed at his legs, and before I can cut his torso with my left katana, he blocks me in the most unexpected manner—with his wings.
There’s a crunching sound as my sword cuts through the wing bones and the smell of burned feathers is disgustingly palatable, but my attacker is still very much alive. With the wounded wing no longer blocking my sight, I see that Brandon has managed to turn this painful outcome into an advantage. With his wings in my way, I lost sight of what he was doing, and I now watch as his sword swings toward my skull.
“This is it,” I think for Phoe’s benefit. “I’m going to die—again.”
10
D espite my conviction , I don’t die—thanks to Fiona. She thrusts her rapier in the path of Brandon’s sword right as it’s midway to my head. A painful metal-on-metal clang rings out, which is odd, since Fiona’s weapon doesn’t look metallic. Her arm ricochets backward with such violence that I’m sure her shoulder is dislocated. What’s really frustrating is that her move doesn’t even stop Brandon’s assault; it only slows it. However, it’s enough for me to sidestep before his sword can cleave my head in half.
In a shower of sparks, Brandon’s blade strikes the floor next to me.
I jackknife to my feet and perform a ballerina-like feat of dexterity by slicing each sword in opposite trajectories. I bury the right one in Brandon’s gut and plunge the left into his eye socket. Bile rises in my throat at the sight of the gore spilling out of Brandon when I yank the swords in a circular motion. Maybe I can vomit. Large chunks of slightly crispy flesh fall to the ground and then get digitized and disappear.
“Yes!” Phoe screams—and I do mean out loud. “Yep, I have a voice now,” she says in my mind before I can ask. “This is very promising. I got both his memories and a fraction of the resources Haven had allocated to him. This means things are not as bad as I thought, which is all the more reason for you to get out of here. If you go back into Limbo, we’re screwed.”
“I want to help Fiona escape,” I think back. “She saved me.”
“Fine,” Phoe says. “Tell her to follow you.”
“Our only chance is escaping through that door,” I tell Fiona, who’s dazedly staring at the empty spot where Brandon’s body used to be. “Follow me.”
I run for the entrance, hoping Fiona heard me and is on my heels.
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