Read Online Midnight City by J. Barton Mitchell - Free Book Online Page A

powerful.
    A surge of light erupted from the dark in front of him—so bright, it almost blinded him. Wavering, beautiful, golden light like a churning cloud of energy formed and hovered before him.
    Holt couldn’t open his eyes, it was too bright. The whispering returned. The hissing sounds. They cut into Holt’s consciousness like a razor. They were much louder now, overpowering. They were so loud, it seemed the ship (or maybe just Holt’s skull) might burst.
    He tried to push away from it, gritting his teeth, unnerved. His hands went to his head, trying to seal out the sounds. Max howled in pain next to him.
    And then the light receded. Floated out like a bright, pulsating cloud of color into the air beyond the ship … and disappeared.
    The whispering was gone. So was the sensation of fear and dread. Holt exhaled deeply, breathing hard, his pulse a beating drum in his ears. The light. He’d seen it before, a few times. A field of energy that lifted up and out of Assembly craft when they were destroyed, but he had never been this close to one before. Never heard … those sounds …
    “Hello?” a voice came from the dark. Holt jumped, stunned. “Help…” The voice was human.
    Holt got to his feet, pushed through the smoke toward the voice at the other end of the ship. Max followed quickly after him.
    Ahead emerged a metallic chair of sorts. A figure was strapped to it, held secure like a prisoner. As Holt reached it, the smoke cleared a little and he could see more. A little girl, no more than eight or nine. Her face was covered in soot, and she coughed in the smoke, trying to breathe. But beyond that, she seemed unhurt. As he emerged from the smoke, she looked at him with wild eyes full of fear. Holt didn’t blame her.
    “Hold on, kid, I got you.” Holt reached for the straps holding the little girl to the chair. They weren’t metal; they were made of something thin but resilient. Some sort of carbon fiber maybe? They wouldn’t loosen.
    The girl looked at him, wide eyed and desperate to get loose. But there was something in her look that made Holt pause, too, something behind the kid’s eyes. Those eyes seemed older than their owner, somehow. But wasn’t that true of all kids these days? The only survivors of the invasion? Weren’t they all forced to grow up fast?
    “Please, we have to hurry,” the girl said. “They’re coming back. Please. ”
    She was right: the Assembly were definitely on their way.
    Holt shouldered his shotgun and drew the red Swiss Army knife from his belt. It was faded with age now, but Holt kept it in good shape, and it had never let him down. As strong as the little girl’s bonds were, the knife surprisingly cut straight through them. He made short work of all four.
    Holt grabbed the kid’s hand and pulled her toward the tear in the ship’s hull. “Stay low, hold on to me, okay? Can you do that?” In response, Holt felt the little girl grip his hand tightly. Something in the grip implied not only her fear, but her trust in him as well. Holt wasn’t sure if he liked it.
    Either way, he whistled three quick notes, and Max darted back the way they had come, clearing a path through the smoke. Holt and the little girl followed and exited the crashed ship. Outside, the fires from before had extinguished, and everything was covered in shadow again. Holt and the little girl took big breaths of fresh air.
    Holt drew a flashlight, knelt down before the girl, shone it all over her, looking for injuries.
    “You seem all right,” Holt said. It was true—if she hadn’t been covered in grime and soot from the crash, no one would guess she had been through anything remotely traumatic. She stared up at Holt with huge eyes. “What’s your name?” Holt asked her.
    “Zoey,” the little girl said, her voice still a little shaky. “My name’s Zoey. We have to go. Like I said, there isn’t much time.”
    Holt studied the kid more closely. She looked like every other little girl