Page 121 of Junk Magic

And because there was something in it.

I stared at the tiny thing I could just see peeking out from between his limp fingers, and swallowed. There might be a way out of here, after all, but it would require taking a risk. A big one.

And I wasn’t going to get any help from my magic. Even a tiny spell would leave me dead before it left my lips. No power, no weapons, and drugged half out of my mind . . .

Did I have a choice?

No. Yet I hesitated, remembering how bad that particular solution had been last time. But that had been an overdose meant to kill me; maybe this would be better?

Yeah, sure. Because that was how my day had been going. But I nonetheless twisted with my body and pulled with my fingers on the lab coat that Jenkins was wearing, and finally got his arm to drop away.

Leaving a small test tube behind, full of faintly green liquid.

There was strength in that vial, but also a whole lot of crazy. And that was assuming I could even get it to my mouth. It was on my chest, having rolled into the valley between my breasts, with unnatural cold seeping from it that felt uncomfortable even through my gown.

But there was no other option, so I didn’t debate it for long. I managed to get my chin down and my body up, bucking as hard as I could against the restraints, letting gravity help me. And it did, with the little thing rolling up my chest to land against my chin—

Before wedging itself halfway between it and my neck.

God damn it!

I strained my ears, trying to hear if anyone was coming, but all I heard back was an echoing void. The last dose had completely worn off, it seemed, and my super senses were super gone. I needed another hit.

And if I didn’t get it, I was dead.

But that was looking less and less likely. The test tube Jenkins had used was short and squat, maybe half the size of a regular one. And the cork at the end didn’t look to be shoved in very well, meaning that I might spill it if I wasn’t careful.

But I didn’t have time for careful!

I followed that thought up with a bunch of contortions that did nothing but waste time, and wedge the damned thing further under my neck. Where it was doing a pretty good job of burning my skin. I didn’t know why there wasn’t ice on this thing, it was that cold. Or why the contents hadn’t frozen instead of sloshing sluggishly against the sides as I struggled.

I finally stopped for a break, panting and desperate, and accepted that this was never going to work. I was never going to get it into me that way, which was why I let the tube fall onto the cot and maneuvered my body down to it. I couldn’t go very far within the restraints, but that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that the test tube was almost flush with the mattress and my mouth couldn’t reach it. Even when I almost broke my sore neck twisting it to the side, and stretched my lips as far as they’d go, like a horse. And breaking the restraints with my strength gone wasn’t happening.

But I tried it anyway, half sobbing from effort and fear, an emotion that war mages weren’t supposed to feel, which were bullshit! You felt it, you were just trained to manage it, to think past it—so think, damn it! Now, while you still can!

And now was all I had, because the door had just slammed open on the other side of the room, and somebody cursed.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The thing about being a trainer is, you never have a chance to forget your own training. Other Corpsmen die occasionally for stupid shit, the kind of thing they were warned against by somebody like me, screaming in their faces, pounding the correct behavior into their heads, and forcing them to practice it day after day until it became muscle memory. But that was when they were cadets, and thirty, forty, or fifty years later, things sometimes got sloppy.

But not for me. I did this stuff every day. I taught this stuff, hammering into young minds until they finally started to listen.

Which was why I heard my own voice in my head, reciting the type of thing I’d said to dozens of students while they struggled with some seemingly impossible task. “Slow your breathing; this is no time to panic. Concentrate on the task at hand, and nothing else. The only thing in front of you, soldier, is the job you have to do.

“Not the pain, not the fear, not the pressure. Time doesn’t matter! Distractions don’t matter! They are for the other guy, to throw him off. You are focused on what you are doing. You have seconds, and every one is precious, every one can save your life. You don’t waste them, but you don’t hurry and flub it, either. You are a war mage.

“Act like it.”

So, I did.

I used my shoulder to make a make a wrinkle in the mattress. It wasn’t much, just a small hill poking up in the plastic underneath the vial, barely an inch high. And I couldn’t push it anymore or risk the little thing rolling off into the floor.

I stared at it, as intently as if my gaze could fix it in place while I maneuvered into position, stretching the bonds as far as they’d go, and twisting my neck to the breaking point.

Meanwhile, somebody was coming this way, barking his shins on the maze of cases as I had, and firing a gun that he didn’t know how to use. The gunshots sounded as loud as cannon fire, with nothing to muffle them in a room with tile floors and almost empty walls. They ricocheted off various metal cabinets, breaking glass and making me want to flinch. But I didn’t; all those years of training, of running obstacle courses in full gear, a hundred-pound pack on my back and live fire rounds exploding all around me, had to be good for something.

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