Spirits of the Earth: The Complete Series: (A Post-Apocalyptic Series Box Set: Books 1-3) by Milo Fowler (paper ebook reader .TXT) 📕

darkness lit up for my eyes only, thanks to Wink and Blink hovering above the scene and painting every rooftop, every ledge, every gap between buildings in lines of infrared. My ocular implants pick up each architectural detail and highlight them in shades of crimson and blue, adding perspective and glowing brighter as I close the distance. I charge headlong, my exo-suit punching into the roof and providing an extra burst of speed for my lunge across a two-hundred-meter drop, then cushioning the impact when I crash-land onto the next unforgiving rooftop and roll to my feet.

Always moving as fast as I can. Always with my quarry in sight.

Somehow, he's managing to stay ahead of me, dodging and weaving as he runs, covering the same elevated urban terrain without the aid of any detectable augments or an exo-suit. According to the readings I'm getting from Wink and Blink, the guy's adrenaline levels are off the charts, and the same goes for the current endorphin rush he's riding. He moves like no one I've ever seen.

That first jump, three or four buildings back, should have been impossible for him. Never mind the landing. Without exo-rods attached to his legs, launching himself from one domescraper to another should not have been possible. Any normal person would have landed in a crumpled heap of bone fractures. Yet here he is, dashing full-tilt across this rooftop with no injuries sustained, whatsoever.

"Take him down, Sera," the voice of my commander says in my ear.

Back at headquarters, where things are just a bit less hectic, she's watching the chase play out on a big screen in the command center via Wink and Blink's transmission. They always like to share everything they see and hear.

"I've got him." My voice is quiet, confident. Not even winded. I've chased suspects before—maybe not at this altitude—and I've caught them without the use of any shock rounds. This guy is no different. Sure, he's got some impressive skills, but so do I. And I'm not about to let him beat me.

"Target him before he reaches the edge of that rooftop," Commander Bishop orders.

I glance at Wink and Blink's topographical map hovering at the bottom of my face shield's heads-up display. Swiping one gloved hand through the air as I run, I bring the map into a full-frame overlay and pivot it to focus on the next building and the gap in between. Measurements appear instantly, along with injury estimates according to the guy's current velocity and predicted trajectory, once he takes his next flying leap.

I curse silently.

"That's a hundred-meter drop to the next building," Bishop observes. "No chance he'll survive that. Shoot him now before you lose him. Takedown authorized."

I grit my teeth. If I shock him, he'll go into seizures, and he's no good to me if I can't get a coherent word out of him. By the time he's able to string sentences together again, he'll be back at HQ under an interrogator's supervision. And I won't be privy to anything they discuss while he's in lockdown.

Because once I pull the trigger, my role will be over. Takedown successful. Wait for the medics to arrive, then call it a night, Enforcer Chen. Go home to your cube, take a hot shower, stream something mildly entertaining to take your mind off work, eventually fall asleep alone in your bed. Wake up tomorrow, rinse and repeat. Leave the real police work to the investigators and interrogators.

No thanks.

"Enforcer, respond." Commander Bishop's tone makes it clear that my lengthy pause was not appreciated.

"Yes, ma'am. Taking him down." I draw my shocker mid-stride with one hand and swipe the topographical overlay aside with the other, leaving my face shield clear for the targeting reticle. Holding the shocker out in front of me with my index finger braced along the gun muzzle, I activate the charger. It whines as it powers up, promising discomfort. Then I increase the volume on my external audio transmitters. "You can guess what happens next, buddy. Save yourself the indignity."

He keeps running. So do I. The edge of the rooftop looms a few paces away for him, a few more for me.

"You won't make the next jump. Stop right where you are, and I won't shoot you. We'll have a little talk instead." I watch him, but he gives no indication that he's heard me.

He doesn't slow down. Neither do I.

The difference between us is that he'll die as soon as he completes that hundred-meter fall, and I won't. Wink and Blink will record the whole mess, and I'll land in his blood somewhere between his brains and his entrails. My exo-suit might suffer a few stress fractures, and I might have to replace it. Worst-case scenario.

But I have to know what he knows. Commander Bishop will be irate, and a well-written reprimand will be included in my permanent record for disobeying a direct order. Worth it? We'll see.

I raise my shocker to give the illusion of following through. I'm about to signal Wink and Blink to descend and block his path with their quadcopter props, usually enough of a deterrent when they're spinning millimeters away from the soft flesh of someone's face. I've got this situation under control.

But that's when the guy casually tosses a grenade over his shoulder. My boots skid across the rooftop as I try to alter course and avoid the blast.

"Enforcer—!" Bishop shouts in my ear, her voice cutting out at the same moment I lose all the data on my face shield along with everything incoming via my augments. Adding insult to injury, my exo-suit locks up, freezing me in place, stiff as a statue.

No last words from my commander as the grenade goes off. No chance for her to tell me how proud she is of her top enforcer, even though my inability to follow orders drives her nuts at times. No opportunity to question the guy before he vaults into the air and plummets to his death. No final thoughts to run