Free Absolute Zero (The Shadow Wars Book 4) by S. A. Lusher Page A

Drake's boots.
    “Five meters,” Drake replied.
    “Good. We're getting out there.”
    They kept going. The sound got louder. And, what was worse, the vent started to vibrate. Something was coming. They reached the vent. Trent cursed his inability to look back over his shoulder. Drake fumbled with the grate.
    “Any day now,” he muttered, his skin crawling.
    The sounds and the vibration picked up.
    “I'm going, I'm going... shit ,” Drake shouted, suddenly bashing his fist into the grille. It exploded outward and he disappeared through the aperture it made.
    Trent hurried after him, hearing him shout in surprise. No time to think, just to act. Trent kept going until he grabbed the edges of the vent and yanked himself through. For a second, there was the gut-wrenching feeling of free-fall, then he crashed into something very hard and unyielding. Just a foot away, he could see Drake.
    “Damn,” he moaned.
    Trent tried to push aside all the pain he felt along his left side; his arm, leg and chest now hurt and he was working on a headache. He brought his rifle to bear and rolled over on his back so he had a clear shot on anything that came out of the vent. The noise was louder now and as it seemed to reach an apex, it fell away.
    There was a moment of silence, then a high-pitched whine, almost machine-like in quality, and yet just animal enough to convey disappointment and frustration. Then the sound started up again, going until it receded into nothing.
    The vent opening remained vacant.
    “Shit,” Trent said after a moment, allowing himself to relax.
    Drake chuckled. “Good ten foot drop there, man. Thank God for these suits.”
    “I'd rather thank the guys that built 'em,” Trent said.
    They got up and looked around. The pair had fallen into a cavernous warehouse, behind a massive stack of crates. Trent glanced up at the vent once more to make double sure nothing sneaked through it after them, then made his way around the edge of the crate. Drake followed, watching his back.
    He hit the edge of the crate and peered around the corner. Nothing but a narrow alcove created by two stacks of crates. He couldn't see anything in it or beyond it, but the view was pretty slim. He moved down the alcove, barrel-first. Something flashed by the edge, making him freeze. He cursed sharply, then laughed, a nervous edge to his voice.
    “What is it?” Drake whispered.
    “Something up ahead, might be one of those fucking lizard things,” Trent replied.
    He kept going. When he reached the edge, Trent did a survey of the area. A broader version of the alcove he currently resided in awaited his inspection. Twin rows of stacked crates extended away to the left and right. He leaned out further and spied an exit a couple of dozen meters away to the right. It should take them back into a main corridor.
    “Come on,” Trent said, more to say something than anything else.
    There was no way they were doing this stealthily. He didn't think you could hide from lizard people. So there was no point in shutting up now. The pair hurried down the warehouse, eying the shadows that hung around the edges of the area. Something moved to Trent's right, then something else ahead of him, to the left.
    “Shit,” Drake murmured. “There's a lot of them.”
    “At least half a dozen,” Trent said.
    They made it as far as an open staging area just in front of the exit before they struck. As soon as the half-dozen or so dark figures were leaping from the shadows, Trent and Drake turned away from each other and covered their half of the room.
    Trent squeezed the trigger, glad he'd remembered to switch on the three-round burst function and put a trio of holes in the chest of the nearest lizard thing. The creature let out a shriek as it was forced flat on its back. Trent put another three rounds in its face, then turned the barrel on the next nearest monster, firing another three rounds into the thing's open, screaming maw, shattering a few of its teeth in