Read Online Saints of the Void: Atypical by Michael Valdez - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michael Valdez
Ads: Link
escalator. Then there was a pair of
the big pieces of equipment on each balcony above the space just
past the tunnels; all five were covered in tan tarps.
It was out of the ordinary that the equipment was
here, yes, but they may have broken down during the scrapping of
the place and been left by the worker bees. The ones on the
balconies were several paces away from the waist-high borders,
their centered hydraulic pole extended for maximum height, the same
way they’d be set up to look down into quarries. Even under tarps,
it was obvious that the spotlight sections were aimed down at where
the tunnel let the trio into the main hub. So how are all five of
these machines broken down, in those perfectly placed flanking
positions? And aimed at the only place they could possibly use to
enter the space?
Dastou noticed on either side of him were sets of
steps carved into the concrete, meant for maintenance crews that
needed access to the track level, a safer alternative than jumping
a meter down into the gaps. Those steps would make good cover, too,
if he laid down on them, which was an odd thing to think at that
moment. A Saint needed to trust his instincts when strange warning
signs and suspicions started popping up from background information
to top-of-mind, so...
“This is it, then,” said Trenna. “I’ll show you where
we spent time in this area, then we can look around for clues I
guess. I’m not really sure how you want…”
“Stop, Trenna,” commanded Dastou when he saw the girl
starting to walk forward again. Nes grabbed the girl’s right arm
tight to make sure she didn’t go anywhere.
“Ow! What’s going on?” She held fast and turned her
head just enough to see the others staring at the same spot.
She looked that way herself, towards a very faint
blue glow reflected on the stainless steel handrail of the
pedestrian bridge near the spotlight; it was the glow of an
active-but-not-on indicator. A shadow shifted, and the sheet draped
over the spotlight on the bridge was pulled off. The ruffling noise
of the fabric was almost instantly followed by a loud klak-klak that echoed throughout the boarding area. That
sound signaled the thirty-six small but powerful diode bulbs of the
construction light being turned on full blast, forcing Dastou’s
group to instinctively shield their eyes. Four other sets of
ruffling-cloth-and- klak-klak noise combinations made it a
safe assumption, even with eyes closed, that the other lights were
coming on, too.
Dastou’s intuition made him rush to the left, blindly
aiming to get to those nice, useful, probably incredibly hard
concrete steps. He pushed Trenna as he moved and hoped Nes, since
he still had his hand on her arm, pulled her with him. Then came an
onslaught of a near-deafening, instantly recognizable noise:
automatic gunfire.
Chapter 5
Well, that’s settled, thought Nes. He always had
doubts about the “cognitive suture” training Dastou put all DSF
agents through during their time at the Ornadais Academy. As a
rookie, he simply stuck to his guns, literally, and became
proficient with firearms, figuring that was the way to go.
Veterans, a funny term considering that the organization was not
even a decade old, would tell him “trust us, you’ll be amazed” or
“don’t worry about it until your life is at risk.” He never fully
bought into it, not until a few seconds ago. Bullets flew overhead,
he was safely in cover, but his mind was occupied by a single
amazing fact: when it came time to act or die, he was as fast as a
Saint.
Alright, enough chest pounding and back to the
current situation. The concrete maintenance steps that served as
cover did their job, and Nes was not in any danger. He had made
sure to land slightly on his side to avoid damaging the assault
rifle buckled to his back. Trenna was right next to him, lying
closer to the ground thanks to her size. She didn’t take the
landing too well, getting her breath knocked out from the impact
and
the big pieces of equipment on each balcony above the space just
past the tunnels; all five were covered in tan tarps.
It was out of the ordinary that the equipment was
here, yes, but they may have broken down during the scrapping of
the place and been left by the worker bees. The ones on the
balconies were several paces away from the waist-high borders,
their centered hydraulic pole extended for maximum height, the same
way they’d be set up to look down into quarries. Even under tarps,
it was obvious that the spotlight sections were aimed down at where
the tunnel let the trio into the main hub. So how are all five of
these machines broken down, in those perfectly placed flanking
positions? And aimed at the only place they could possibly use to
enter the space?
Dastou noticed on either side of him were sets of
steps carved into the concrete, meant for maintenance crews that
needed access to the track level, a safer alternative than jumping
a meter down into the gaps. Those steps would make good cover, too,
if he laid down on them, which was an odd thing to think at that
moment. A Saint needed to trust his instincts when strange warning
signs and suspicions started popping up from background information
to top-of-mind, so...
“This is it, then,” said Trenna. “I’ll show you where
we spent time in this area, then we can look around for clues I
guess. I’m not really sure how you want…”
“Stop, Trenna,” commanded Dastou when he saw the girl
starting to walk forward again. Nes grabbed the girl’s right arm
tight to make sure she didn’t go anywhere.
“Ow! What’s going on?” She held fast and turned her
head just enough to see the others staring at the same spot.
She looked that way herself, towards a very faint
blue glow reflected on the stainless steel handrail of the
pedestrian bridge near the spotlight; it was the glow of an
active-but-not-on indicator. A shadow shifted, and the sheet draped
over the spotlight on the bridge was pulled off. The ruffling noise
of the fabric was almost instantly followed by a loud klak-klak that echoed throughout the boarding area. That
sound signaled the thirty-six small but powerful diode bulbs of the
construction light being turned on full blast, forcing Dastou’s
group to instinctively shield their eyes. Four other sets of
ruffling-cloth-and- klak-klak noise combinations made it a
safe assumption, even with eyes closed, that the other lights were
coming on, too.
Dastou’s intuition made him rush to the left, blindly
aiming to get to those nice, useful, probably incredibly hard
concrete steps. He pushed Trenna as he moved and hoped Nes, since
he still had his hand on her arm, pulled her with him. Then came an
onslaught of a near-deafening, instantly recognizable noise:
automatic gunfire.
Chapter 5
Well, that’s settled, thought Nes. He always had
doubts about the “cognitive suture” training Dastou put all DSF
agents through during their time at the Ornadais Academy. As a
rookie, he simply stuck to his guns, literally, and became
proficient with firearms, figuring that was the way to go.
Veterans, a funny term considering that the organization was not
even a decade old, would tell him “trust us, you’ll be amazed” or
“don’t worry about it until your life is at risk.” He never fully
bought into it, not until a few seconds ago. Bullets flew overhead,
he was safely in cover, but his mind was occupied by a single
amazing fact: when it came time to act or die, he was as fast as a
Saint.
Alright, enough chest pounding and back to the
current situation. The concrete maintenance steps that served as
cover did their job, and Nes was not in any danger. He had made
sure to land slightly on his side to avoid damaging the assault
rifle buckled to his back. Trenna was right next to him, lying
closer to the ground thanks to her size. She didn’t take the
landing too well, getting her breath knocked out from the impact
and
Similar Books
