Technomancer (Unspeakable Things: Book One)

the floor. The metal crackled and smoked. I fired three return shots, still without looking. I realized there was no way I was going to win this fight. There were several of them, and they were probably already moving to flank me.
    I heard more sounds then. Distant booms. I had no idea what they might mean. Almost immediately after thesesounds, the lighting shifted again from blue to a subtle lavender. Another, deeper level of alert? What were those booms? The urge to run became overwhelming. This mission was over.
    Behind me was the corridor leading to the garages. Ahead, across a deadly kill zone, was the path that led back to where I’d left McKesson. I couldn’t see him now. I realized my best move would be to run to the vortex we’d used to come here and step out. I could go home to my own peaceful desert in less than one minute.
    But I hesitated. Another snap and boom sounded. More bolts of cold came down the ramp. They weren’t advancing, I could tell. They were pinning me down here and probably sending more troops around to get me from behind. Once they had me in a crossfire, I had no hope of survival. But I didn’t want to run and leave McKesson behind.
    Cursing the day I’d met the man, I fired a last spray of bullets around the corner and up the ramp to make them duck, then I jumped across the open passage. I barely made it. The sole of my right shoe was frozen into a lumpy, misshapen mass. I was never sure afterward if I’d stepped in one of those cold spots or if one of the bolts had clipped my foot. In any case, I was running slightly off balance as I reached end of the corridor.
    When I got there, I stared in disbelief. I instantly understood what I had been hearing. McKesson had fired his weapon and run. Hot, goopy fluid like oily blood gushed over the floor. McKesson himself was nowhere to be seen. His RPG, minus the charges, lay on the floor. Immediately next to that was a rip in space.
    The rip was a small one, and it was guttering already. It would soon go out and vanish.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the object McKesson had so thoughtfully wrapped in aluminum foil. I ripped off the foil. If I’d ever needed some firepower, this was the moment.
    The object was…an alarm clock. It was small and old-fashioned. Painted a bright yellow, it had two bells on top for ears and a smiling face with closed eyes on the dial. I squinted at the antique child’s clock. What was I supposed to do with this? I tried twisting the knobs in back, and the hands spun and the bells on top dinged once. I winced, but there was no reverberating boom. Did one simply set it down and let it go off like a bomb? I wasn’t sure. I felt a tickle of sweat.
    Rostok had set me up, I thought. He’d given me something that would kill me and the Gray Men together, planning to take great pleasure in the reports afterward. Maybe McKesson was in on it, and that was why he’d fled. Together,the two of them would sip fine booze in the dark tonight, having a laugh at my expense. Perhaps I’d warrant a toast for a job well done.
    Running feet. I heard no shouting, but the Gray Men never shouted. They were charging down the corridors after me. In moments, they would come into the area where I was standing and freeze me into a block of ice. When I hit the floor, I would shatter into a dozen shards of icy meat. I could see Old Red’s split-open body in my mind.
    I almost put the clock down and left, but I couldn’t quite do it. The thought that gave me courage was the knowledge that Rostok didn’t like losing objects. No one did. That lowered the odds he’d sent me here on a suicide mission.
    I decided to give the clock one more try the moment the Gray Men arrived. Maybe it needed a specific target to operate. I didn’t have to wait long. Gray Men came jogging into sight.
    I held the clock out in front of me and willed it to operate, to fire, to
destroy
. For a fraction of a second, nothing happened. Then the twin, yellow-painted bells on the top of the clock began to rattle. The rattle quickly turned into a high-pitched, irritating ring.
    The Gray Men spotted me and raised their weapons. But they didn’t fire immediately. Perhaps they were too shocked by the monstrous blob of rock that swelled up between us as fast as a wave crests and breaks. Something huge bubbled up out of the floor in front of the clock. It ballooned higher until it was the size of a car, then grew bigger still, becoming the size of a small