Page 45 of Rescuing Ally: Part 2
“This isn’t about Ally,” Hank says, breathing harder now. “This is about you needing someone to blame.”
“Fuck you.”
We crash together again, grappling to hurt. Sweat makes our grips slippery. Breathing comes in sharp bursts. My shoulder screams where it impacts the mat wrong.
“You want to know what this is about?” I hook his leg and take him down harder than necessary. “This is about you sitting there like a fucking robot while the woman we love suffers.”
“And you losing your shit helps, how exactly?” The clinical tone in his voice—even now, even with me trying to hurt him—destroys the last of my control.
I land a solid hit that actually rocks him. Hard enough to split his lip.
Blood on his mouth. Surprise in his eyes.
For a heartbeat, we both freeze.
Then Hank’s counter comes harder than it needs to. A warning. His elbow connects with my ribs hard enough to make me see stars.
We’re both breathing hard now. Sweat-slicked. Real anger bleeding through. We’re about to cross a line we can’t uncross.
“Stop.” Ethan’s voice cuts through our labored breathing. “Both of you. Just fucking stop.”
We separate slowly, warily. Like animals backing away from a fight that almost turned lethal.
Hank wipes blood from his lip. I press a palm to my ribs, feeling for damage.
We stare at each other across a chasm that feels like miles.
“We’re falling apart.” The admission tastes like eating lead, but it’s fitting. I’ve been an ass, and not just to Hank. I owe several apologies. “When we need each other most, we’re fucking falling apart.”
“Yeah.” Hank’s voice carries cold fury. “Because you can’t lock down your emotions long enough to think straight. Because you’d rather tear apart the team.”
The silence stretches.
That’s when it hits me. The solution burns through the rage and frustration like white phosphorus.
“We need somewhere these fucking things can’t hear us.”
Hank’s eyes sharpen, tactical wheels already turning.
“We’reinfested.” Hank takes a step back and wipes blood from his mouth. “Or did you snooze during that part of the briefing?”
“Don’t be an ass. I didn’t snooze.” I press my palms against my eyes, trying to think through the rage and pain. “But we need somewhere they can’t hear us. Somewhere without electronics, without… Fuck!”
My brain spins through options. Guardian HRS is compromised. Every building, every room, every piece of equipment is crawling with those microscopic spies. Even if we go off-compound, how do we know we’re clean? How do we know they haven’t spread to our vehicles, our gear?
“Forest mentioned a Faraday cage.” Hank wipes blood from his split lip.
“Maybe, but who knows if these quantum things follow normal electromagnetic rules?” I pace across the mats, boots squeaking against rubber. Think, dammit. Somewhere withouttech. Somewhere isolated. Somewhere, the nanobots couldn’t have spread.
“Water,” I say suddenly. “Saltwater disrupts electronics. If we go somewhere remote enough…” An idea starts forming, pieces clicking together like an explosive device assembly.
“The beach.” The solution crystallizes as I speak. Below Insanity. Doc Summers’ and Forest’s place. No tech down there. Nothing but sand and saltwater and the sound of waves.”
For the first time in three days, something like hope flickers in Hank’s expression.
“We’ll need to get everyone clean first.” Hank slips back into operational mode as if we didn’t just try to kill each other. “EMP exposure to fry any nanobots. Then move to a secure location for actual planning.”
“Now you’re talking.”
