Fireteam Delta J. Halpin (top 10 books of all time TXT) 📖

“There’s no guarantee it’s a drug,” Logan posited. “For all we know, the fog could be a bacterium, or a parasite.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” Summers held his head in his hands, staring at the ground.

“I’m serious. If whatever’s in that water is a parasite, then it has a life cycle. And that means it influences its host, eats, and reproduces. Usually, that’s not going to be pleasant for you.”

“So, I’m going to have something burst out of my fucking chest?”

“No, you’ll have some other health issues first. The good news is that super strength isn’t what I’d call a normal symptom.”

Summers covered his face with a hand. He’d been racking his brain over what the fog could be, and so far, he’d come up with nothing short of magic. Given the nightmarish monsters they’d seen in this world, he didn’t doubt that there was some microscopic equivalent.

“All right. Assuming it is, what kind of parasite do you think we’re talking about here? Is there anything like this on our world?”

“Nothing even close that I’ve ever heard of. But you mentioned the fog made you hungry. I’d say that points toward something that wants you to eat. Or kill.” Logan pointed at Summers for emphasis.

Summers considered that. It was true. He’d been fighting down violent urges at any minor inconvenience, but the fact he’d gotten so used to it that he’d stopped noticing probably wasn’t a good sign.

Then something clicked.

“It wanted me to eat . . . holy shit. Back when you first found me, the wolves—” Summers could see the others weren’t following. “Look, back then, I wanted to eat anything. Anything I could catch . . . I caught some wolves. But it was only afterward that I could smell like a bloodhound. Or like a wolf.”

“What?” Nowak and the others were looking at him, confused.

“What if it isn’t the fog that’s changing me, but what the fog wanted me to do? To eat?”

“Seriously?” Cortez looked doubtful.

“We were sharing meals the caravan made, meals with that giant, strong lizard.” Summers looked at the others. “Maybe something about the fog lets me . . . absorb things?”

“Did you eat a fucking elf?” Cortez leaned in closer to Summers.

“What? No.” Summers raised his hands. “That merchant from the duel, though. Asle cut my hand for that ceremony . . . thing. And his blood—” Summers flexed his arm.

Nowak waved a hand. “We get it.”

“Does Synel know about any of this?” Logan asked. “I mean, she deals in it.”

“All the merchants know is that it makes you feel faster, stronger, and completely immune to pain.” Summers spoke as if he’d been over this a thousand times, mostly because he had. At first, he’d assumed Synel was hiding something, but after a while, it became clear that things like safety testing hadn’t been conceived of in this world. “And from what she was saying, nothing they’ve seen comes close to the degree of change I’ve been dealing with.”

“With how much it costs, I doubt she’s seen anyone exposed to it for nearly as long as you have,” Nowak explained. “Nobody that lived, anyway.”

“Right . . . but it fits. Even if it’s just the how.”

If this was true, then Summers could do things he’d never imagined were possible . . . or he could end up as a science experiment if they ever got back. Something he’d really have to consider.

“But we still need the why,” Logan cautioned.

“And if you’re right, then it’s not going away. You’re still going to keep”—Nowak gestured at Summers—“changing . . .”

That . . . hadn’t occurred to him. In fact, if Nowak was right, anything he ate, touched, or stood in the same room with long enough could potentially influence whatever was inside him.

“Great.” Summers ran a hand through his hair. “So, besides the fact I might be a fucking vegetarian from here on out, what other good news do we have?”

“About that . . .” Nowak looked at the group, rolling out a map of the city, and indicating the walls. “We have a problem.”

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The group stood in a high tower that overlooked the walls of the city.

“So, trees.”

“Trees,” Nowak agreed. He indicated the tree line nearly five hundred meters from the walls. They’d looked further away on the map beside him. It wasn’t thick growth, but it didn’t need to be.

Their biggest advantage was their weapons, and guns were only useful because of their speed, accuracy, and range—something that would be completely meaningless in the dark, with enemies massed behind cover, firing arrows at them.

Had this been a normal fight, they could have fired until the forest itself had been reduced to debris. But as well equipped as they’d been for a small fireteam, they didn’t have the kind of ammo that could support a long battle with tens of shooters. Even with Rhodes’s salvaged gear, which practically dwarfed their own, added in.

“Isn’t this something the city should have thought of?” Summers glanced down to the base of the wall.

“It is, and they did, but according to Nisha, the refugees made the work nearly impossible.” Logan put a hand on the windowsill.

Summers watched as guards and laborers worked to dig pits in the distance. They’d jammed wooden spikes in the ground, hoping to create a barrier between them and the enemy. Some of the refugees helped, knowing that if the barrier failed, they would be the first thing between the enemy and the wall. But most looked to be begging the guards for food.

“You’re talking to that elf an awful lot,” Nowak observed. “Don’t suppose there’s any chance of you getting on her good side?”

“Nisha’s a fanatic—well, not really. I think she’s given Rhodes something like an oath, and elves take those seriously, as you