Psion Omega (Psion series Book 5) Read Online Free PDF Page B

lift. Al and Brickert’s
eyes met, but it was too late. When the doors closed, Brickert heard pounding
on the sliding doors. One of the Thirteens pressed his thumb to a scanner above
the columns of floor buttons. The panel of buttons popped open and revealed
another, smaller panel set into the elevator wall. Brickert only saw two
buttons on this new panel: one black and one red. The Thirteen pushed the red
one.
    The elevator car descended deep into the earth. The
Thirteens held Brickert in such a way that they rendered his blasting useless. Why don’t they kill me? The Thirteens
weren’t known for taking prisoners. Two guns jammed against his head, one on
each side. They could turn him into pulp on a whim.
    They need me , he realized. But for what?
    The elevator ride lasted longer than he expected.
When the lift came to a stop and the doors opened, the Thirteens pushed him
forward. The air wafting in from the floor smelled like contaminated meat. The
walls were covered in stains of brown, red, and black. The carpet, tattered and
burned, was worse than the walls. Even the ceiling was dirty with splatterings
of varying sizes and shapes.
    Lining the hallway on both sides were small rooms.
The smells coming from them were worse than the scent in the hallway. The
squalor inside them made the hallway look somewhat tidy. A combined common room
and kitchen was at the end of the hall. Several pieces of torn and abused
furniture decorated it.
    The Thirteens threw Brickert to the ground as more
of them came into the room. Several guns pointed at him now while the Thirteens
spoke to each other in shrieks. A couple of them left in a hurry. The others
eyed Brickert hungrily. Their blood red eyes shone in the dim light. None of
them wore gas masks now. Their scarred, tattooed, and pitted faces were on full
display. A couple of them jerked rapidly, communicating to each other in
silence. Brickert tried to figure out what they were saying, but even Sammy
hadn’t learned their form of speaking. He wanted to appear brave, but didn’t
dare meet their gazes. His head began to tremble, the hairs on the back of his
neck stood up straight, and his cheeks burned as hot as irons. The horrible
silence gave time for dread to settle into Brickert’s bones.
    The Thirteens had taken him into their den; it
didn’t seem likely he’d find his way out. In their eyes he saw his death. How
long could he last against so many? A minute? Two?
    What are they
waiting for?
    Two Thirteens who had left in a hurry returned with
a camera. They trained it on Brickert, a red light blinking at the front, the
lens trained on their prisoner. The Thirteens conversed in low, animalistic
growls for several seconds while still staring at Brickert. The way they
watched him made his stomach churn. One of them licked her sharpened teeth with
a forked tongue. Another made claws with his fingers and scratched up his own
chest until it bled.
    Then, all at once, they pounced.
    Brickert tried to blast them away, but their fists
and feet were everywhere. Dozens of limbs kicking, punching, beating, breaking.
Merciless. Pain erupted everywhere: ribs, face, arms, legs, groin. He couldn’t
keep up with the blows. Too many. Too fast.
    His nose broke with a loud crack. His teeth
shattered, newly regrown after being broken by the Thirteen in Colorado
Springs. God … please … save me or let me
die now.
    When his cheekbone cracked, it felt dull and far
away, but fire blossomed when the toe of a boot met the top of his skull. His
vision blurred. He heard them shrieking to each other in low tones, urging one
another on. His ribs protested every puff of air, so he could only take small,
shallow breaths.
    Someone … help
me ,
Brickert begged. They’re killing me.
Sammy. Someone.
    The beating went on until they stopped at the sound
of a single shriek. Brickert couldn’t move. His universe was agony. Pain was
everywhere and in everything. The Thirteens dragged him to a chair by his