Callsign: Queen - Book I (A Zelda Baker - Chess Team Novella) by Robinson Jeremy & Wood David

Author:Robinson, Jeremy & Wood, David [Wood, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Breakneck Media
Published: 2011-09-12T04:00:00+00:00

The storm drain was a tight squeeze, and Queen muttered a prayer of thanks that she wasn’t some bulky heifer. She followed the sound of the oborot, her pistol held out in front of her should she need it. A fetid odor hung in the air, blending with the dank, moldy smell of the old drain. Her hand came down on something cold and gooey. She yanked her hand back and wiped it on the side of the drain, getting rid of the worst of the ooze. Taking out her flashlight and cupping her hand around it to minimize the light, she shined it on the floor. A rotting arm laid there, the flesh almost completely liquefied.

Nice, she thought. At least I know why it stinks in here. She wondered if more stray body parts waited up ahead.

She crawled another twenty feet until she finally put her hand down onto…nothing. A portion of the floor a good two feet across had fallen away. Her light revealed that the fissure dropped down a few feet to an air duct that had been torn open. She wondered if the first oborot she had encountered had escaped this way, or if it had been released for a purpose.

She didn’t love the idea of climbing into an air duct, but if an oborot could pass through without getting stuck or bringing the vent crashing down, so could she. It was crucial, however, that she did not wind up in the middle of their holding pen or whatever place it was they called home. Holding her finger on the trigger of her Mark 23, she slithered head first down into the vent. Up ahead, the way was lit by the glow of light shining through vents in the bottom of the duct. Careful to make no noise, she crept up to the first vent and peered through.

A slender man in a lab coat leaned in close to a computer monitor, blocking her view of the screen. He was muttering something. She strained to hear what he was saying, and made out the words, “Where is she?”

“You still haven’t located her?” A deep voice called from somewhere out of sight. She gritted her teeth, recognizing the voice of the man who had taunted her while trying to kill her with his sicko rides.

“No, but there are plenty of places she could hide. I’ll keep watching.”

“Let me know when she resurfaces. I want to take her out before she makes it out of the city.”

The man at the computer turned around to face the speaker, giving her a clear view of his face. He was young, perhaps in his late twenties, clean-cut—the stereotypical laboratory squint. Only his eyes, sparkling with a dark, twisted zeal, marred his otherwise benign appearance. “She’s already taken out our entire security detail. Watch yourself.”

Queen grinned. That was a helpful bit of information.

“She won’t find me so easy to deal with.” The voice was so smug and self-assured that Queen had to fight

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