Dark Angel: Skin Game Read Online Free PDF Page A

slap riding the wind of their angry shouts: "Death to the freaks!" "Kill 'em all!"
    Max wondered if they would ever be able to make people, those people, understand that all the transgenics desired was a peaceful, quiet life. The "freaks" just wanted to fit in like everybody else, and not be feared for—or judged by—their appearance.
    Wasn't that what America was supposed to be about? She and her transgenic clan had been born in the USA, even if it was in a test tube, where they'd been genetically designed to defend this country—the very one that now seemed to want only their extinction—from the rabble on the street to the suits in high places.
    With Logan and the others moving into the street, the cops suddenly seemed more interested in containing the crowd than dealing with the federal SWAT team. They backed out of the way as Logan led the parade toward the rear of a waiting police van.
    Also dressed for SWAT team duty, complete with the helmet and goggles, Alec held a handcuffed Max by the arm while that lanky goofball, Sketchy—a really unlikely SWAT team member—escorted the cuffed Mole and Joshua. The lizardish Mole still puffed defiantly on his ever-present cigar, while Joshua, with his long brown hair and soulful canine-tinged features, looked more like a beaten puppy as Sketchy led him to the van.
    "Federal agents," Logan announced, his voice cool and authoritative. "I need you to move back. Step away. We may have a biohazard here, people.... Make a hole!"
    All of the cops—except Clemente, the intelligent, no-nonsense detective who'd served as negotiator during most of the siege, only to be usurped by Ames White—stepped back.
    Clemente, a slender, well-chiseled African-American in his forties, looked like he probably felt much older now; but his brown eyes were still alert, and he obviously wanted to know what was happening. He wore a rumpled gray sport coat over a Kevlar vest, blue tie, and white shirt, his gold shield dangling from a necklace. As they passed, he said nothing, his pistol still in his hands, the barrel pointed toward the ground.
    Logan turned to him. "Agent White wants your people in there to secure the crime scene, ASAP."
    Clemente made no move, standing with wide eyes and perhaps just a hint of skepticism as Logan yanked open the van's rear doors. Alec loaded Max in, then Sketchy shoved

    Mole and Joshua up and in. Alec climbed into the van with the prisoners while Logan, businesslike, said, "We're going to have to commandeer this ambulance."
    Sketchy peeled off to help ease Gem—the X5 who'd given birth during the siege—and her new baby into the ambulance parked next to the van. Dalton, the short blond male X5 who'd been traveling with Gem, climbed aboard as well. Original Cindy—the beautiful African-American bike messenger who was Max's best friend in Seattle—
    followed suit.
    Logan turned back to Clemente and said, with the faintest hint of sarcasm in his voice,
    "Agent White is not a man who likes to be kept waiting."
    The driver of the ambulance slowly climbed down from his seat, and Sketchy stepped into the man's space. "We'll take over from here," Sketch said, playing his macho SWAT role to the hilt. "Unless you wanna buy yourself a six-hour decontamination hose-down."
    The driver wanted none of that, and backed off, while Sketchy climbed behind the wheel of the ambulance. Not waiting for Clemente to move, Logan slammed the door of the police van and jumped into the driver's seat.
    Inside, Max and the others slipped the unfastened cuffs off as Logan started the vehicle.
    "Move the barricades," he shouted through the windshield, waving for the officers in front of the van to clear the long sawhorses that kept the crowd back. The headlights of the van and the ambulance painted the mob a ghostly white.
    With the crowd still screaming, "Kill the freaks," Logan shifted into gear and let the vehicle roll gently forward.
    Behind him, Max encouraged this approach, saying, "Nice