Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

that a lovely thought? Uh-huh, a real barrel full of laughs.
    But no matter how much she hurt, she needed to keep moving. Anger became her ally in the dark, handing her a lifeline, helping her embrace the idea of payback. Vengeance. Her get-even gene cranked over, giving her strength where her body had none.
    Different scenarios rose in her mind as she dragged herself another few feet. Coming back with a grenade launcher. Blowing the underground bunker to kingdom come. Or maybe she could use C4, make sure the boom-boom factor hit record levels. Hmm, definitely C4. Mac was good with the stuff. He’d make sure the fireworks went off better than the Fourth of July.
    Yup. No doubt about it.
    She’d stepped up her game, moved past dating, and was now married to the idea of premeditated murder. She’d never understood it before, the kind of rage that brought a man to the brink. What sent him over the edge into unrelenting violence. Well, she knew now. Twelve hours ago she would’ve toed the company line and said “vigilante justice” should never be condoned. Now?
    Everything had changed. And not for the better.
    She was army-crawling through an endless shit hole, for God’s sake, a hot, dark place full of creepy-crawlies and cobwebs. Angela wiped another one from her face, hoping the spider that built it wasn’t stuck in her hair. Pausing, she did a quick tousle-and-swipe through her pixie cut. The last thing she needed was a pissed-off spider without a home.
    What she wouldn’t give for a pair of infrared goggles. Or a flashlight. Hell, a candle. She didn’t care what kind of light source came her way just as long as she saw what was coming. Eight-legged freaks included.
    Stupid. Her. Them. The situation. All of it was beyond sick.
    “Stinking Razorbacks,” she murmured, holding onto her voice to keep the panic at bay.
    Feeling her way through the dark, Angela elbow-walked up the ventilation duct’s incline. Sweat made her skin slick, and she cursed as she slid, losing ground on the metal. Gritting her teeth, she slapped her palms against the vent’s side walls. Her nails raked against steel, screeching as she dung in. The eerie sound echoed, raising the fine hair on her nape, but she didn’t stop. No way could she give up. If she tumbled back down, she wouldn’t have the strength to make it out alive.
    Bending her knees, she planted her feet, bracing one against the side wall and the other against the floor of the shaft. Her toes cramped, protesting the pressure. Angela ignored the pain and, with a crablike shuffle, crawled inch by excruciating inch to the top. At its mouth, she felt around, getting her bearings. The shaft ninety-degreed into a T. She grabbed for the corner, felt sharp metal cut into her palm and blood flow, and still she pulled, heaving herself into a wider ventilation corridor.
    Jackpot. She’d found the main duct. Decision time. Which way should she go…left or right?
    Crouched with her knees pressed to her chest, Angela looked both ways. The darkness was absolute. She couldn’t see a—
    Holy hell. What was that? It was lighter at one end of the tunnel. Not by much, but enough for her to see the blackness morph into fuzzy gray. Angela stared at it a second, disbelief warring with hope. Yeah, definitely. Light was coming from somewhere down there.
    Uncurling her limbs, she slid onto her belly. Pinpoint focus and the push-pull combo of her hands and feet propelled her forward. Reaching the right spot, she glanced up.
    A vertical shaft.
    With a twist, she played the contortionist. Her muscles squawked, protesting the pull. Angela ignored the sting and, exhaling a shaky breath, looked up the duct, searching for the…
    Bingo.
    There it was. Proof positive. The darkness faded near the top, becoming lighter by the second. Her heart skipped a beat, then settled into a slamming rhythm, hammering her breastbone. Was this it? Had she found her way out? Would it bring her to ground level and freedom? Avoiding sharp metal corners, Angela examined the trajectory again. Looked good. Seemed solid. So…
    Only one thing left to do.
    Her hands flat against the side walls, Angela stood, pushing her body through the mouth of the vertical vent shaft. She took a moment, sent a quick prayer heavenward, asking for strength and luck, then started to climb.

     
    Pulling his wings in fast, Rikar set down hard. His talons slid, gouging parallel tracks in the asphalt inside the shipyard. Ignoring friction