the night, dark water beneath me. “Stick the bomb to him, make him port with it. Blow him up wherever he goes.”
“Yeah,” Prof said. “Assuming that works. He takes his clothing, so he can obviously teleport objects he’s carrying. But is it automatic, or can he consciously choose?”
“I’m not convinced we can even stick something to him,” Tia said. “His danger sense might trigger a teleportation if you even reach for him.”
It was a good point.
“You have a better plan?” Prof asked.
“No,” Tia said. “Mizzy, make it happen.”
“Got it.”
“Work on an extraction plan, Tia,” Prof said. “Just in case.”
I gritted my teeth, still on the bridge. Sparks. It was impossible to ignore that water down there. I moved more quickly, eager to reach the building, where at least the sea would be out of sight. The bridge didn’t lead to the rooftop, but to an old broken window on the story where I’d seen Obliteration.
I reached the window and crouched down before going in, careful of the profile I’d present. Just inside, glowing fruit bobbed from branches and flowers drooped, the petals colored like swirled paint. It was a full-on jungle in there; the gloom of shadowed branches and phantom fruit cast an eerie light. Discomforting, like finding a three-week-old sandwich behind your bed, when you swore you’d finished the darn thing.
I checked over my shoulder. Mizzy had moved into position at the other side of the bridge to give me fire support, but her head was down over her pack as she got the explosives ready.
I turned back and, rifle at my shoulder, stepped through the window and checked to each side with a quick motion, looking through my scope. Vines hung from the ceiling and ferns sprouted up from the floor, displacing the carpeting of what had once been a nice office building. Desks—barely visible through it all—had become flowerbeds. Computer monitors were overgrown with moss. The air was thick with humidity, like the understreets after rain. Those glowing fruits were barely enough to illuminate the place, so I moved through a world of rustling shadows as I poked forward, making my way toward where I’d last heard screams—though those had stopped now.
I soon emerged into a small clearing with burned tents and a few smoking corpses. Obliteration was nowhere in sight. He chose this place intentionally, I thought, scanning the room with my rifle against my cheek. We won’t be able to back each other up in here, and we’ll give our locations away by all the sound we’ll make.
Sparks. I hadn’t expected Obliteration to be this clever. I preferred the image of him that I had in my head, that of the raging, mindless monster.
“Prof?” I whispered.
“I’m in,” he said over the line. “Where are you?”
“Near where he attacked,” I said, steeling myself against the sight of the corpses. “He’s not here anymore.”
“Come my way,” Prof said. “We’ll move in together. It would be too easy to take us if we’re separated.”
“Right.” I moved back to the outer wall and edged along toward where Prof’s bridge would intersect the building. I tried to move quietly, but growing up in a city made of steel doesn’t exactly prepare you for things like leaves and twigs. Nature kept crunching or squishing unexpectedly under my feet.
A crack sounded just behind me. I spun on it, heart thumping, and caught sight of fronds rustling. Something had been back there. Obliteration?
He’d have killed you immediately, I thought. So what had it been? A bird? No, too large. Maybe one of the Babilarans who lived in this jungle?
What a creepy place. I resumed my progress, trying to look in every direction at once, moving steadily right up until the moment I heard Prof curse over the line.
Gunfire followed.
I ran then. It was probably a stupid move—I should have found cover. Prof knew my direction, and would avoid firing that way, but all kinds of crazy ricochets could happen in an enclosed space like this.
I charged anyway, bursting out into another clearing to find Prof kneeling beside the wall, bleeding from one shoulder. Dust rained down—the ceiling bulged with vines breaking through the plaster—where a stray bullet had hit. Nearby, shards of light evaporated on the ground, vanishing. Obliteration had teleported away just before I arrived.
I put my back to Prof, looking out into the dark jungle. “He has a gun?” I asked.
“No,” Prof said. “A sword. The slontze is carrying around a bloody sword.”
I covered us while Prof tied on a bandage.