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AUBREY SENSED SOMETHING approaching in the murky twilight. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied a reddish glow in the dusty air, faint at first but becoming brighter and clearer with alarming rapidity.
A part of her mind was absorbed with the child, and the rest was consumed with loathing the Hoarders. Her heart skipped a beat as she belatedly recognized the significance of the red glow. For the first time, she caught the warning sound of pounding footsteps.
The Soul-less . . .
“Tracker,” she shouted at Garr and Sheila. She gathered the boy close to her chest and threw herself behind their meager barricade, rolling to protect the child from the impact. What good is a broken-down wall against the Soul-less?
Garr and Sheila were only meters behind her, but the creature was on them with a lightning burst of speed. It was wilder compared to the other Trackers they’d encountered—frenzied, even.
The creature hesitated only a moment before it charged at Garr and Sheila. It caught Garr as he was turning to confront it, sweeping him aside with one violent swing of its bloodied arm.
Garr fell backward heavily, slamming into Sheila with enough force to carry them both to the unforgiving concrete. The Tracker stood over them, its scanner bathing them in a blood-red glow.
For a long, tortured moment, the creature hovered, motionless, its head jerking from side to side as it analyzed them. Aubrey held her breath, crouching behind the meager cover of the half-wall. She cradled the unconscious boy in her arms, shielding him. Please, don’t let it find us.
She caught sight of the Soul-less as it scaled the opposite side of the concrete barrier. Its lips parted in a predatory snarl when it spotted them.
The creature lurched forward, hanging suspended over the wall from its hips, desperate arms outstretched to snatch the limp boy from her.
No . . . Aubrey recoiled in horror at the thought of the child suffering the same fate as the Runner they’d seen in the plaza.
The Soul-less hesitated, half over the wall, frozen in mid-lunge. Aubrey’s mind felt sluggish. Everything seemed to slow down, and yet she saw details clearer than ever.
Multiple shards of glass were embedded in the creature’s arm and face, and blood dripped down its arm from a ragged laceration. Wild and matted hair fell to its shoulders, dripping sweat mixed with blood.
It strained to reach the child, its right hand a rigid claw. In that moment, Aubrey saw its face with new clarity.
The Soul-less was female. Or it had been. And it looked . . . Shocked? Confused?
In a flash of insight, Aubrey realized Garr’s prod had been effective. The child’s Implant was deactivated, inert. It worked. The Soul-less can’t sense it anymore.
Aubrey’s prod was in her hand, her scarred fingers clasped fiercely around the handle. She hadn’t realized she’d drawn it.
She flicked the power on with her thumb. The prod seemed puny and insignificant—insultingly so—against the Tracker’s superior strength.
For what seemed an eternity, they stared at each other. Aubrey watched, frozen, as the creature’s expression morphed from confusion to despair to . . .
Was that fear?
The Soul-less opened its mouth in a silent scream, its face contorting into a mask of murderous rage.
It’s going to blow itself up. Bile rose in Aubrey’s throat. Just like Sarah and Thomas. And Stephen.
The Soul-less launched itself forward, scrambling over the wall, teeth bared in mindless fury. Aubrey threw herself back, slamming against the wall behind her. There was nowhere to go.
She was trapped.
The creature leaped at her, claw-like hands extended. With a final howl of futile defiance, Aubrey jammed the prod upward with all her strength, into the cursed red circle of light.
The left eye of the Soul-less.