Ascendant Saga Collection: Sci-Fi Fantasy Techno Thriller by Brandon Ellis (best novels to read in english .txt) 📗

“Dammit.” Civilian clothes. If he put them on, he'd stick out like a sore thumb. He might as well wear what he was wearing.

He reached inside the closet, grabbing a camouflage hat, and placed it on top of his head, pulling it down snugly. He did his best to hide his face. He would need to find more military garb, if he was going to blend in.

He opened the door slowly again. The guy with the rifle paced down the hall, his back to Drew. Probably on guard duty. If that was the case, Drew wouldn’t be able to get rid of him. He eyed the corridor. Dashing across the hall and diving into another room wasn’t an option. He might be able to sneak into one of the rooms on his side of the corridor, if he was stealthy enough.

He walked as quietly as he could, reaching the next door. Entering the room, clothes were strewn everywhere. He closed the door and dug through them. He didn’t find anything he could use.

He glanced at the room’s vent. His biceps hurt from that single eight-minute crawl. Who knew how far he was from an outside wall. Then it hit him. He might be miles underground. There were no outside walls. “Ain’t no question. I have to find camo.”

He counted to three and eased the door open a tinge. The guard neared the end of the corridor. Drew snuck into the next room and opened the closet. A camouflage jacket—civilian, but passable—but no pants. He looked down at his own pants. Tan slacks. It might just work.

He put on the coat, checked his hat, made sure the guard still had his back to him, then hurried in the opposite direction.

“Sir?” yelled the guard. “Hey, Sir?”

Drew put his hand up as he continued to walk. “I’m late. I have to get to my assignment.”

“Sir, I need to see your ID.”

Just as Drew reached the door, it flung open, nearly hitting him between the eyes. He stepped back. Another man walked in, full regalia.

“Sorry,” the man said, walking past Drew.

“No, Johnson. Check that man.”

Drew pulled the door open and ran out onto the balcony. A forklift was below, carrying a large crate up a ramp and into the monocar. He dashed to the ladder, and took his first steps down. It might provide cover.

Someone reached for him. “Stop.”

Drew had no intention of following that order. He flicked a glance over his shoulder. His pursuer, strong, determined, military, square jaw, brown hair. Drew, on the other hand, figured he resembled a crazed monkey, scared out of his mind.

“Stop.”

Drew put his feet on either side of the ladder and slid to the floor. He ran toward a monocar ramp that extended into a warehouse. The guy slid down the ladder as well, and rushed after Drew, keeping at his heels.

Up ahead, hundreds of military men worked, the sounds of metal against metal, beeps and buzzes almost deafening, the smell of rubber against concrete almost unbearable. This was an advantage though only a matter of seconds before everyone figured out he was being chased. Then he’d have an entire regiment of well-trained, fit, non-weed-smoking soldiers after him.

He ran into the crowd, elbowing workers, pushing them out of his path. “Sorry, I’m late and in a hurry,” he repeated.

“Late for what?”

“My assignment.”

Past the crowd, he ran up a flight of stairs. Two hundred yards to his right, he spotted several elevators. Behind him, the man in chase pushed through the crowd, pointing at Drew, trying to get his people to understand the situation.

At the top of the stairs, Drew ran across a grated bridge that led to a line of elevators. Down on the monorail, the assembled workers had been alerted to the situation and were heading in his direction. Hunting human prey was more fun than stacking boxes, for sure.

Drew reached the elevators and pressed the up arrow. “Hurry, hurry.”

The elevator dinged. The doors opened. Drew stepped inside, pressing “1.” He had only two options, and since “B” obviously meant “basement”—where he supposed he was now—“1” would most likely take him to the top.

He looked up and swallowed hard. A guy rushed across the bridge. Drew backed away in quick, jerky steps. He cursed the door for not shutting, sweat dripping down his face. In seconds, he’d be caught.

A ding, and the door began to close. The man leaped and thrust his arm outward in an attempt to stick his hand between the doors. He missed. The doors shut and the elevator ascended.

Drew let out a breath he didn’t know he held and took off the camouflage coat like it was an alien trying to suffocate him. He threw it on the floor, along with the hat.

He leaned against the back of the elevator. His legs tingled. “Oh my God.” He wondered who’d be at the top waiting to meet him when the elevator opened.

He checked his pocket, feeling his wallet. His eyes shot wide, “Where’s my phone?” He patted himself down. “What the hell?” His heart sank. Everything he documented, everything he did to escape, for nothing. He sat down hard and heard a crunch. He pushed himself up. He knew exactly what that meant. His phone was in his back pocket, and he’d just broken it.

He fished it out. Relief washed over him. A cracked screen, but a functioning phone. His phone was everything. It was his passport to freedom and a long, healthy life. Or at least a life with a 78% lower chance of assassination. The remaining 22% was for future features; he was sure he’d uncover more top stories and find himself a target again. Who was he kidding. He’d never been in as much danger as he was in now.

The elevator dinged and the panel holding the buttons jutted out, then flipped over, exposing buttons numbering one through nineteen. The “1” and “B,” gone. The doors opened and he stared into a lobby of a