Syberian Sunrise Read Online Free PDF Page A

marched over to it, secured his gear and hurried up it. It wasn't long before he'd hit the top and discovered another hatch. Using his more powerful arm, he screwed it open and peered cautiously through the hole. There was nothing there but darkness.
    Of course. What else? Enzo crawled through the hole. After a moment, his eyes adjusted to the dim light that came from the meager glow behind him. He was in a small, square room. It was empty. He found another hatch in the floor and moved to it. He scuttled down another ladder and came to a small maintenance bay that ran the length of all the containment pods. He was behind them now, even deeper behind the scenes.
    Lockers, work benches and crates occupied the area. Most of them looked like they'd never been used. He moved along the length of the room, heading for a door in the direction of the first locked down door he'd tried to get through. So, get through the next section, find the auxiliary generator and turn it on. Should be easy enough. Hopefully. This door, thankfully, was not locked. He opened it and came into a small antechamber.
    There was just one more door to go through, so he went, getting his knife out now that he was upright and back in what was likely hostile territory. The doorway led to a corresponding corridor. Figuring out where he was, he looked to the left and saw the locked door. To the right, the corridor extended. Already, he could tell that this area of the underground was much larger. The corridor was crisscrossed with many more.
    Fantastic. Not a wonderful environment to be in if there were people...or things, out for your blood. Enzo tried to open himself up to the area once more, but his shoulder was already bugging him again. He sighed, rolled his fake arm, listening to the soft whirl of servomechanisms. He needed a map, or some help.
    Enzo activated the radio as he set off down the corridor, glancing in the offshoot hallways as he passed them.
    “Hey, lady, I could use some help,” he said, his voice edged with irritability. He was in a bad mood and it was going worse.
    But there was nothing. No response. He sighed and let his hand drop, leaving the radio on. What he wouldn't give for a fucking gun. Even a pistol would be fantastic. He'd fought melee, unarmed and with knives, before, and it just wasn't all that fun. Maybe for the first half decade of his life as a career mercenary, but eventually he just got tired of it. For the most part. Occasionally, he felt the thrill of close quarters combat.
    Enzo pressed on. The offshoots all seemed to lead to short corridors that ended in doorways. What had she said this section was? A refinery? What were they refining down here? Where the hell was he, anyway? Up ahead, the corridor terminated in another door. Enzo slowed as he approached it. He hit the access button and watched it grind open. Like before, he stuck to the side, largely hidden from view, so that he could study the room beyond. Something was moving in there. The same low gray light lit the room, which was a broad, two-tiered room of equipment, workstations and catwalks. The shuffling sound was coming near the middle of the room, where another one of the Mutants was roaming around aimlessly.
    Enzo gripped his knife and stood up. Passing through the doorway, he quickly approached the Mutant, knife in an attack position. This one appeared to be a technician of some kind, a pallid man in a ripped blue jumpsuit. His back was exposed. As he came closer, Enzo rushed forward and buried the blade deep in the Mutant's back. The thing let out a wretched shriek that echoed through the dark room. Enzo put a hand on its shoulder, pulled the blade out and plunged it in again, and again, and twice more. Blood flew on the air, on his hand, his fake arm.
    The Mutant pitched forward. Enzo fell back and waited a moment. Nothing happened. He glanced around. He was still alone down here. His eyes fell on a workstation and, flicking a quick glance back at the