Instinct: A Chess Team Adventure - By Jeremy Robinson Page 0,129

only way to see them through the rain and darkness was to look when they were returning fire. And that was a very dangerous technique.

Queen and Sara popped out of their hiding places just after King ceased firing, causing the VPLA soldiers to duck back down. King used the distraction to bolt across the courtyard and dive for cover next to Queen.

“Sara!” King shouted.

Sara turned to him as she ducked down behind the broad palm tree providing her cover. “What?”

“Do you know where they are? Can you tell?”

Sara knew what he was asking. Could she sense them? A few days ago she would have found it a ridiculous question. But now, in the heat of battle, she wished she could answer it in the affirmative. The problem was, she couldn’t. “No! The crystals are screwing me up . . . or making me right. However you want to put it. Something about them realigns the neural pathways in the nervous system. My senses are as normal as yours now. I’m blind, so to speak.”

Damnit, King thought. He could have used the advantage Sara’s odd senses could provide. Old-fashioned tactics would have to do the trick. In many firefights a pattern emerged. One side fired and ducked, the other retaliated in kind. Sometimes a slow reaction or a misstep in the timing of the dance would result in a death. But breaking the timing on purpose guaranteed it. There just wasn’t any way of knowing who would be shot . . . unless you rigged the system.

King lay low as Queen and Sara continued the fight. King counted as volleys of bullets were traded. He listened as bullets struck the tree blocking Sara and pinged against the wall where Queen hid. The VPLA soldiers had their positions pegged and it wouldn’t be long before a grenade tumbled in their direction.

Sliding to the side, King reached the opposite end of the garden’s short wall. He waited as Queen and Sara fired a barrage. Then as the last tracer ripped through the air, he rose from his position, just as the seven VPLA soldiers were doing the same. But they were aiming for Sara and Queen, and not one of them saw King until it was too late. Two of the Death Volunteers took three bullets each and fell to the floor. King wounded a third, striking only his right arm—his throwing arm. The man screamed, not just in pain, but because the bullet that had pierced his forearm had severed the tendons that controlled his fingers. With the tendons snapped, the fingers fell loose and the live grenade the man was about to lob fell to the stone courtyard at his feet. Seconds later it exploded, reducing the soldier to globs of flesh and sending metal and stone shrapnel into the heads and chests of two others.

Five down. Two to go. The odds had just turned in their favor.

Then a flash of lightning from outside the mountain pulsed through the open portals, struck the crystals, and filled the city with light.

King froze as though staring into the eyes of Medusa.

Standing on the eight-foot wall that surrounded the courtyard and separated them from the columns of balustrades was an army of hybrids, tense and ready for action. The two remaining Death Volunteers saw them, too, taking aim at the surrounding force. As Queen and Sara saw the group, they stood together with King, aim lowered, knowing that should a single shot be fired, the fight would end in seconds, with their deaths.

King tossed his AK-47 to the floor and held up his hands. Queen and Sara followed suit. As did the Death Volunteers.

Blazing fires plumed all around the saturated city. Orange light struck the crystals from below, and doubled in intensity. The light looked like a Southern California sunset, orange and pleasant. The rain falling through the mountain portals glowed like liquid Cream-sicle as it fell and flowed through the city.

They turned toward the sound of wet footsteps. Weston walked down the stairs with Lucy at his side. A torrent of water flowed down the stairs from above, licking at their feet.

King fingered the detonator in his pocket. He could erase Weston from existence. But he would bury them in the process. King walked into the center of the courtyard and moved back toward the two VPLA soldiers, hoping they weren’t stupid enough to attempt taking a shot at him. Weston reached the bottom of the stairs and walked toward them. He stopped