Control Point Read Online Free PDF Page A

the extra weight, circling the burning building and descending toward the Combat Support Hospital among the trailers.
    “Fucking Elementalist,” the Pyromancer said. His uniform was perfect, not a strand of his jet-black hair out of place. There was no sign of the blaze that had raged over his body beyond a faint smell of smoke. “Fucking Probe.”
    “She was just a kid,” Britton said.
    “Then she should have turned herself in. She ran. She went Selfer.”
    Britton shuddered as a he recalled the sound of that single gunshot. “Yeah, I just saw how you treat Probes when they’re subdued. Would it have been any different if she’d turned herself in?”
    The Pyromancer looked at Britton as if noticing a bug. “With all due respect,
sir
.” He spit out the word. “Selfers like her hurt a hell of a lot more kids than we just did. She knew the law. She had a choice. She deserved what she got. She killed one of ours and hurt one of yours.”
    “The boy hurt my man, not her. Jesus. Anyone can come up Latent at any time. It’s not like she chose this. But Harlequin still shot her in the head while she was lying helpless on the ground. What the hell is wrong with you people?”
    The Pyromancer shrugged. “Rules of engagement. That’s lifeblood in this business. Maybe you should memorize them, seeing how it’s your job to carry them out.”
    Britton didn’t want him to have the last word. “Still, those kids did pretty good, considering they haven’t had a day of training, and you do this for a living.”
    He shrugged. “It’s easy to display great magical power when you’ve got no control, sir. But theatrics don’t win battles. Skill beats will, every time.”
    The Combat Surgical Hospital, or “cash,” as the soldiers called it, was assembled in a trailer beside the high school. The firelight danced on its sheer white surface, washed red by the flashing sirens of the South Burlington Fire Department.
    A crowd of protestors chanted outside the police cordon, too far for Britton to determine if it was anarchists, Christian conservatives, or environmentalists this time. He could see signs over the police cruisers. MAGIC = SATAN! PRESIDENT WALSH AND ZIONISTS TRAIN TROOPS IN FORBIDDEN SCHOOLS! CLOSE THE SECRET BASE! GOBLINS ARE REAL! WHY WON ’ T THE GOVERNMENT TELL THE TRUTH ABOUT MAGIC CREATURES ?
    An army nurse arrived from the Combat Surgical Hospital trailer with a gurney. Britton and Young hefted Dawes onto it, cringing as he cried out.
    “What happened?” asked the nurse.
    “Selfer Pyromancer cooked him,” Britton answered.
    “It’s his lucky day,” the nurse said. “We’ve got SOC burn-trauma with us.” He motioned to a SOC captain emerging from the trailer. The captain ran his hands over Dawes’s wounds. Water droplets formed around him, misting the burned skin. The angry red color began to subside.
    Dawes’s eyes opened, fixing on the Hydromancer’s lapel pin. “No!” he shrieked. “Don’t let him hurt me, sir!” he struggled against Young and Britton. “Don’t let him cast no spells on me, sir! I want a real doctor!”
    The Hydromancer’s jaw tightened, but he continued to work. Puffs of steam carried the smell of cooked flesh into the air. “That’s all I can do without a Physiomancer, and we don’t have one detailed here. You have to take him inside.”
    An orderly helped the nurse lift the gurney and race up the trailer steps, slamming through the door.
    The Hydromancer turned to follow, but Britton caught his sleeve. “How’s he doing?”
    He looked at Britton with the same contempt the Pyromancer had shown inside the helicopter. “Please, sir,” Britton said. “I can’t lose him.”
I lost two kids already tonight.
    The Hydromancer’s eyes softened. “The burns dried him dangerously. I moisturized the affected areas and was able to drop the temperature of the burned flesh a few layers down. That should give him a head start. But he’s still going to have to heal