TOPGUN: Ice (Brutal Response Book 2), page 7
Corigan advanced to the back of the shuttle, each step heavy and powerful. An MP hesitated before approaching the prisoner to undo his remaining restraints. The shackles and muzzle fell to the ground with a thud.
“Enjoy Black Ice, Corigan,” the MP offered with a sneer. He shoved the prisoner forward.
Corigan twisted and caught the edge of the open cargo bay. He yanked himself up and reached out to grab a holstered gun. “Enjoy hell!”
The MPs surged forward and swung their pain batons. Buzzing mixed with the thud of the hard batons against Corigan’s shoulders and head.
Mia’s eyes widened. A normal man would have been on the ground twitching from a single hit. She’d tested one on herself once, despite her father warning her not to. She knew how much they could hurt.
Desperate blows continued to rain down on Corigan. His body twitched, and he lost his grip, plummeting out of the shuttle. A loud grunt and sickening crunch followed.
Mia couldn’t see if the man had survived the fall. It wasn’t that far, but a bad landing on his head could have finished him off.
“We should have just shot him,” an MP muttered. “Damned waste of oxygen.”
“It’s too much paperwork,” another complained. “Even for trash like that. Black Ice will handle him. If not, it’ll make him do something useful with his life for once.”
The MPs behind Mia nodded to her then inclined their heads toward the back of the shuttle.
“Don’t try anything,” an MP warned.
“If he couldn’t pull it off, I’m not going to,” Mia replied. She doubted that. She was confident she could take out all the MPs with surprise if she were so inclined. It would add nothing to the mission, so she didn’t so much as give them dirty looks.
She headed forward, her movement still constrained by her chained ankles. Once she reached the cargo bay, they stopped her and undid her remaining restraints.
Mia squinted as a hard gust of wind blasted sooty ice into the shuttle. Corigan lay on the ground, one of his legs contorted so badly it made Mia wince. Piles of dirty ice covered the cracked, rocky ground below. Dark spires of rock, dusted with yellow, black, and brown dotted the area.
“He survived,” Mia noted.
“Yeah, too bad,” the MP replied.
Corigan managed to get to his feet, staggering and limping across the hard terrain. Shadows flittered between the spires, snow drifts, and nearby outcroppings. Emaciated figures in ragged clothing surged toward the landing zone like the twisted undead of a horror story.
“Are those other prisoners?” Mia asked.
“Some, but not all,” explained the MP.
“What does that mean?”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s survival of the fittest here. That’s all you need to know.”
Corigan let out a howl of rage as a prisoner tried to tackle him. He backhanded the man with a meaty arm, sending him flying. Another prisoner threw his body at Corigan’s bad leg. The huge killer roared and buckled. Even the strongest man relied on his bones and muscles being connected to work.
The mob of men and women tackled Corigan to the ground. They delivered a flurry of kicks and punches. The sickening thud of fists meeting flesh cut through the wind.
“He’s not going to last long like that,” Mia commented.
The MP who’d first warned Mia about Black Ice stepped forward. He pointed in the distance. “Don’t worry about him. Worry about yourself.”
“They’re going to kill him,” she pressed.
“And the devil looks after his own,” the MP retorted. He shook his hand. “Now pay attention. See that building?”
Mia peered into the distance. A squat gray bunker-like building lay nestled in the cluster of outcroppings, about fifty meters away from the landing zone, though with the rough conditions and weather it might as well have been kilometers away.
“Get there as quickly as possible,” the MP whispered into her ear. “He’s acting as a distraction for you, even if not on purpose. If he dies, he’ll die doing the only selfless thing he’s ever done in his life.”
The MP slipped something hard and cold into her hand. She didn’t need to look to recognize the familiar handle of a knife.
“Don’t stop until you’re at the front blast door,” the MP continued. “We’ve sent a message ahead and tried to explain there was a mix-up, but Black Ice has its own rules, and there’s only so much we can do. Use the knife to fight off the scavengers and get to the gate. Hold out until the warden arrives. Once he arrives, drop the knife and fall to your knees. After that, it’s just a matter of surviving until we come to get you when your sentence is up.”
“And how likely is that?” Mia asked.
“Just get to the bunker,” the MP insisted, licking his lips. “I’m sorry. I wish there was more we could do.”
Mia adjusted her grip on the knife. “You gave me a weapon. That’s all I needed.” She smiled at him. “Don’t worry. Thirty days. I’ll see you soon enough.”
It was time to move. This was no longer a stealth mission. She charged forward and leapt from the back of the shuttle.
CHAPTER SIX
Despite the hard uneven terrain, Mia hit the ground and rolled, popping back up with a boost of momentum into her initial sprint. The feral scavengers continued their assault on the wounded Corigan. Part of Mia didn’t like using a wounded man as a distraction, but this was a case of monsters attacking monsters.
Despite his broken leg, Corigan wasn’t giving up. He smashed a fist into a scavenger sending them flying onto a nearby growing pile. Bruises and bloody tears covered Corigan’s body, both from the initial drop and the people attacking him.
He followed up by smashing his elbow into a scavenger’s neck. The scavenger coughed up blood and clawed at this throat before falling to the ground. For a wounded man with a snapped leg and who knew what other internal injuries, Corigan was putting up a good fight.
Mia tore her attention away from the mob beating Corigan. She might not be hurt, but that didn’t mean she could take that many people with only a knife. A blast of wind shot soot and ice into the air in a swirling mass. The dark fog obscured the path to the bunker.
Surviving initial insertion into hostile territory depended on proper equipment, training, and utilization of available intelligence. She had no idea how many of the scavengers were outside the main site, nor their training and equipment. The only thing she knew was they were willing to attack other new arrivals without restraint. She doubted she could reason with them.
Corigan had doomed himself by trying to go for an MP. Had he landed normally, he might have had a chance against the scavenger mob now desperate to beat him into a paste. Despite their feral screeching and clawing that made them dangerous as a group, none of them looked like they could take the average cadet from the academy, let alone a huge, though wounded, hardened killer.
Mia’s foot snagged on a rock. She wrenched it free and slowed to a jog, having trouble seeing far in front of her because of the ash and snow. None of the enemies had broken away from beating Corigan to come after her. She wanted to believe that was good luck, but she’d long ago learned not to depend on luck for survival in field conditions. It could always turn against her.
The best plan was to get to the door and keep it behind her, meaning she’d only have to deal with threats from a limited arc. She would have preferred to focus on maximum mobility, but the MPs’ instructions had been clear. They hadn’t wanted to kill her. They would have thrown her off while still bound otherwise.
There were too many unknown variables in her current situation. She needed to cut them down by using the environment to her advantage.
This was her first true challenge of the plan. Coming to Ice was never going to be easy, and learning the truth about her father wouldn’t be easy.
Despite the dark fog, she could still make out the bunker and had a good idea of where the blast door was. A flat-out sprint would normally get her there easily, but the visibility, uneven ground, and maze of outcroppings turned it into a challenge.
She’d already tripped once. Losing mobility through a broken or twisted ankle might prove fatal.
Shadowy forms appeared in front of her on either side, their faces and bodies covered in soot, like volcanic spirits. More people showed up. The numbers were impressive for a barren wasteland.
Mia glanced at the bunker. She’d assumed these were prisoners and that Black Ice didn’t care about prisoners preying on prisoners. Now she wasn’t sure. Allowing a prisoner outside meant they’d have a chance to escape. At least some would take that chance even if it cost them their life.
They might be an army of savages controlled by the guards or something else. There were too many things Mia didn’t know. She’d get inside and then she’d get the lay of the land.
The scavengers approaching her with sickening grins carried more lithe muscle on their frame than the mob beating Corigan to death. Mia didn’t show her knife. They might not have noticed the weapon in the poor weather conditions.
“This is your one and only chance,” Mia announced. “My leg isn’t broken. I can move and fight damned well.”
A female scavenger laughed, her wild hair shaking with hearty emotion. “She thinks she’s gonna threaten us?”
A man next to her shared the laugh. “Fresh meat.” He sniffed at the air. “Fresh meat that smells stupid.”
“That’d be impressive.” Mia brought up her knife. “I’m armed. Any attack will end with death.”
“Yeah, bitch,” spat the woman. “Yours.”
She ran toward Mia and balled her hands into fists. Her partner followed close behind.
Mia ducked a wide swing from the woman and jabbed her knife into the woman’s chest. The scavenger screamed and stumbled backward, clutching herself.
She coughed up blood. “You bitch.”
The man’s eyes widened as the female scavenger collapsed to the ground. He growled at Mia. “You don’t know who you just messed with. We were just gonna kill you before. Now we’re going to make you suffer first. Nice and slow.”
The man charged Mia with no grace or discipline in his form. She dodged with a spin out of the way. He turned and tried to grab her shoulder, and a flash of the blade removed two of his fingers. He fell to his knees and shrieked in pain.
“You fucking bitch!” he screamed. “I’ll kill you.”
“Assumes facts not apparent to me,” Mia remarked. “You’re beyond your combat ability. Bind your wounds and be smarter the next time.”
Inflicting maximum casualties wasn’t a primary mission objective. She needed to focus on her retreat to the bunker.
He glared at her. “I’ll enjoy killing you.”
“I doubt it.”
Mia slammed her foot into the man’s face with a crunch. He jerked backward, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head. She jogged away, her heart pounding, lucky that all the yelling by the pair hadn’t brought more enemies.
She slowed. Why hadn’t it? Something was wrong. She was almost to the blast door when she realized what the problem was. It was the sound of the battlefield.
She’d almost missed it. The shouts and slap of flesh on flesh from the punches and kicks against Corigan had ceased, replaced by heavy footfalls. They echoed around the spires and outcroppings and mixed with the wailing wind, making it hard to place their source.
Mia raised her knife and ran toward the door through the dark cloud smothering the area. The outline of the large building grew sharper with each step until she was close enough to make out the blast door. The juddering outlines of angry scavengers flowed around either side of the bunker.
She glanced down at her knife. She wasn’t about to drop it before the warden made an appearance. Shouts filled the area as dirty scavengers closed in on Mia. The air had begun to settle, leaving the superior numbers of the enemy force in no doubt.
Mia would make them pay dearly. She might be able to kill enough to encourage the rest to retreat. Being crazed killers didn’t mean they didn’t value their own lives.
She spared a glance back at Corigan. The mob had retreated. A pile of bodies surrounded him, calling into question if the scavengers had finished him or if they’d decided to go after easier prey.
No. It didn’t make sense. They didn’t all get ahead of her, despite her short altercation. Glimpses of scavengers hiding behind rocks near Corigan confirmed it.
Had he forced them to withdraw? Cost them too much? That offered hope for her.
Mia raised her weapon. Not attacking her was the easiest way not to be killed by her. She wasn’t about to die before she found out the truth about her father.
“Back the hell off if you want your miserable lives to continue,” she shouted at the scavengers surrounding her. “I will eliminate all enemies who engage me.”
With a loud cry, they rushed Mia. She snapped a kick into a man’s head before slashing the throat of another. His blood sprayed all over. A quick duck saved her from a punch. She replied with a stab and yanked out her knife.
Three dead or dying within seconds. That was a good start. The scavengers either didn’t notice or care as they pressed their attack.
A large man threw himself at her and grabbed her leg. She smashed her elbow into his head and stabbed one of his comrades trying to restrain her arm. The man’s grip only tightened.
Losing mobility meant losing the fight. She had to act fast.
She sliced his hand. He screamed and let go, stumbling backward and tripping some of his friends.
The pack of scavengers stopped their assault, pinning her against the blast door. Corigan had a monster behind his eyes, but he still had a hint of a rational mind left. Mia didn’t see that in the so-called humans in front of her.
A bestial roar shook the air. The scavengers backed away from Mia, surveying the area with quick, erratic jerks of the head.
Mia took ragged breaths. Her gaze cut back and forth trying to keep all threats in sight and identify the animal responsible for the roar.
A huge figure emerged from the forest of rock, ash, and snow, heading for the downed Corigan. Mia squinted, not sure if the rough conditions were playing tricks on her. Though it walked on two legs, she had a hard time believing it was human.
Corigan had been a bear of a man, and this new arrival made him seem short. His thick body was wrapped in a hodgepodge of rags and what appeared to be soot-covered repurposed scraps of prison uniforms. An ogre was the only way to describe him.
The scavengers exchanged hushed murmurs. They’d lost all interest in Mia. The others hiding near Corigan must have known this ogre was coming and fled before they could get caught.
Mia wondered if the guards knew about this creature. She could understand why they might not warn her. It would have been hard to believe if she wasn’t looking straight at him.
The ogre stomped toward Corigan, who managed to stand despite the mangled state of his leg and the bruises and cuts covering his exposed skin. Corigan clutched a large hunk of black rock with a jagged edge broken off. A dangerous man could always find a weapon.
Corigan screamed at the top of his lungs. With a wild swing, he went for the ogre’s throat. Mia couldn’t doubt the man’s determination.
With a flash of speed belying its size, the ogre’s meaty hand shot out and caught Corigan’s own. Mia thought nothing was happening for a second until a familiar snapping and crunching sound cut through the now-still air. The wind had died as if Black Ice itself wanted her to see and hear it all.
The ogre released Corigan’s mangled hand. The makeshift rock blade tumbled to the ground below.
Screaming in rage and pain, Corigan threw his remaining hand toward the ogre’s throat. His enemy caught him by the throat and lifted him off the ground with ease. The ogre squeezed his throat, cutting off the sound of rage before walking toward a nearby spire.
Corigan clawed at the hand holding him, to no effect. The ogre moved with no urgency, treating the dangerous prisoner as nothing more than an inconvenience. That changed when he arrived at the rock.
The ogre smashed Corigan’s head against the rock, caving it in. Blood splattered everywhere. The monster tossed the spasming body to the ground. With half Corigan’s head now red pulp, the ogre had finished what the scavengers had started.
A shiver racked Mia’s body. This didn’t make sense. This enemy went beyond what she knew existed.
The ogre grabbed Corigan’s corpse and slung it over his shoulder then turned to look at Mia. She backed away on instinct, pressing against the closed blast door. She needed more intel before she took on an enemy like that.
A shaggy, vaguely simian-smashed-into-human face peeked out from underneath the rags. Mia didn’t want to believe what she was seeing. It had to be a trick of the ash- and snow-covered air and the distance. Nothing else made sense.
Without another noise, the ogre stomped away with Corigan’s body. Mia and the scavengers watched. Once he’d disappeared behind a larger mound, the scavengers turned back toward her, the glee and anger from before replaced by solemnity.
Mia lifted her knife with a weary sigh. She might not be an ogre larger than a human, but she could fight like one.
She frowned. The ogre had taken all her attention during its appearance. She hadn’t realized scavenger reinforcements had arrived, including men and women with makeshift blades of metal and rock and a handful with thick metal bars.
Mia tightened her grip around her blade and shifted her feet. Hold out. That’s what the MP had told her. But for how long?
The scavengers surged forward, led by a knife-wielding woman with a shaved head. Mia ducked her attack and sliced across her chest. The counterattack sent her stumbling back while men on the other side surged forward.
Mia’s jump kick knocked a man back. She flipped her knife around to use gravity’s help to plant her knife into the shoulder of her other opponent.
