Apex 2: Rise of the Super Soldiers by Adam Moon Page A

had the authority to question him or stop him, was indisposed.
    He approached a female soldier. “Where can I find the science wing?”
    “Oh, we don’t have anything like that, sir. We have a medical wing. Is that what you mean?”
    “How about an R&D department? Do you have anything like that?”
    “We have a reverse engineering sector. It’s new, so we can try and figure out how to operate the alien space suits.”
    “Where is that located?”
    “It’s on the north end. I could take you there if you’d like.”
    “No. Just point me in the right direction.”
    As he headed off, he felt like he should tell the girl to keep their conversation to herself, so that Watson didn’t figure out what he was up to. But he knew if he said anything suspicious she’d just go find him and then the jig would be up.
    His pace quickened. He was scared half to death about the future now, but conversely, he’d never felt more alive.
    The reverse engineering department was a joke. It consisted of a single male troop sitting at a desk, prodding an alien suit with the eraser end of a pencil. But at least the lighting was better than anywhere else in the cavernous bunker. That meant he didn’t need to go poking around in the dark all damn day to find his prize.
    Before the dopey looking man even saw him, Delacourt demanded, “Tell me where the contagion is being stored.”
    “The man stood and rubbed his eyes to get them back into focus. “I’m not allowed to let anyone near it,” he saw the General’s stripes and added “sir.”
    Delacourt said, “As you can see, I’m not just anyone. I’m a General and I’m a base Commander just like your Commander Watson. He instructed me to retrieve the contagion and bring it to him. His men are dying. He insisted that additional contagion might help.”
    “That makes no sense, sir. Let me just get confirmation on that.”
    Delacourt pulled his sidearm out and aimed it at the troop. “I don’t think so.”
    The dopey guy had guts though. He smirked arrogantly and tapped his hip. “I have one of those too. Let’s just see who…”
    Delacourt shot him in the midsection. The guy’s eyes went wide and he buckled over, slumping to the floor painfully. Delacourt wished he could have made it a headshot but he needed answers. He towered over the fallen man and shot him again, in the thigh this time. The injured soldier cried out in agony. Delacourt reached down and put a hand over his mouth to silence him, so he would listen. “Tell me where it is.”
    “It’s in that locker over there.” He nodded to a single, large locker six feet away.”
    “What’s the combination, or key code, or whatever?”
    “It’s just a cooler. It doesn’t lock. No one thought it would be necessary to lock it up all the way in here.”
    “That’s because all of Watson’s men are fools.” Delacourt snarled as he confiscated the fallen man’s sidearm.
    He tucked it into his waistband, making him feel like a thug or some kind of old fashioned gangster. The thought thrilled him. He made his way over to the cooler and, sure enough, it wasn’t secured. He hefted the door open and saw his prize immediately since it was the only thing inside.
    The glove had been knotted at the end and then placed inside a Ziploc baggie to make sure none of the contents could possibly escape.
    He pulled the glove out of the bag and then used a pair of scissors from the lone desk to cut off the knot.
    The man on the floor yelled out, “You idiot! Don’t do that. We have no idea what it is or what it does.” His words came out raggedly because of the pain he was in but the conviction in his voice was evident.
    Delacourt turned to face him, pulled out the gun from his waistband, and shot the man in the top of his head. The boom was louder than those his own firearm had made but soon that wouldn’t matter. By the time Watson arrived, he’d have already ingested the powder inside the glove and he’d probably be