Free Drone Wars 1: Day of the Drone by T. R. Harris Page B

one another. “What the hell are you doing here?” Xander asked.
    The woman brushed white dust off her ripped and bloodied outfit. “Oh, except for a couple of cracked ribs, I’m fine. Thanks for asking,” she said.
    Xander leaned back against the back wall behind the desk. “I wasn’t expecting to land on someone. So sue me.”
    The swoosh of the missile came a split second later. Reacting instantly, Xander dove for the reporter and pressed her flat against the floor. She yelped, but was instantly overcome by the explosion that struck the stone edifice directly above them. A shower of debris fell down, including baseball-size pieces of granite. They were nearly buried in the aftermath of the explosion, which was soon followed by three more, just not in such close proximity to their hiding place.
    Through the din of battle, Xander could hear the frantic bursts of automatic gunfire, along with the grunts and screams of Marines being cut to shreds by missiles and gunfire. The air filled with the gut-wrenching sound of whirling propellers seeming to whiz by from all directions.
    Then the scene grew quiet as the buzzing moved further down the corridor, broken occasionally by sporadic bursts of gunfire or the release of small, solid-propellant missiles, followed by rumbling explosions.
    Xander attempted to move, shedding a pile of rubble from his back. That’s when he noticed he was face to face with Tiffany Collins. Gone was the even complexion and perfect hair. The woman was now caked in white dust and her hair was a mass of mangled yellow, infused with a variety of objects which defied identification.
    “I think they’ve moved on,” she whispered.
    Xander blinked several times before comprehending her words. “Oh yeah, of course.” He pulled away, and more debris fell from his back.
    Tiffany sat up and fluffed her hair, sending a cloud of dust into the air around her head, forming a halo effect. Xander had to smile at the vision.
    “So we meet again,” he said. And then without waiting for comment, he continued, “What are you doing here? What happened to the sergeant?”
    “Oh, him? He was taking me to some sort of safe room when the drones attacked. Next thing I knew, he’d pulled his gun and was running down the corridor yelling like a banshee, leaving me to fend for myself. After that everything started falling on me—literally—you included!”
    “Thanks for breaking my fall. That could’ve hurt.”
    “Don’t mention it. But what do we do now? Hopefully you’re not going to run off and leave me too.”
    “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
    He stood up and looked over the reception desk. It was what he expected, a horrific scene of dead Marines and utter devastation where the access tunnel met the R&D building. Tiffany now stood next to him.
    “What’s going on, Mister Smith … I mean Xander? There’s some major shit happening here.”
    He nodded. “No argument there.”
    “So who’s doing all this?”
    “It could be one of a dozen organizations with a grudge against the RDC, or even a coalition of them. This took a lot of coordination, money and manpower.”
    “What do they hope to gain, except bragging rights?” Tiffany asked. “Taking out one facility doesn’t kill the program.”
    Xander looked at her with a smirk.
    She noticed his expression. “You told me there were backups to the backups. Was that not true?”
    “Unfortunately, we’re victims of our own success. But I believe that’s a conversation for later. If you listen carefully, you’ll notice the buzzing is growing louder.”
    “They’re coming back!” Tiffany yelled.
    “Probably prowling for survivors. And one other thing: these units have microphone pickups, so they can hear when you yell like that.”
    “Screw you!”
    “Perhaps another time, Ms. Collins, but right now we have to get out of the facility. By my estimation, these drones still have over an hour of flight time left.”
    Tiffany gritted her teeth.