The cut fence gaped like a wound in reality, molten edges still crackling orange-hot, dripping viscous slag that hissed when it hit the ground. Steam rose in acrid curls, mixing with something else—something copper and thick that made the air taste like pennies.
I stepped through, and my boot squelched.
Not mud. Not dew.
I looked down. My sole had landed in something that used to be inside a human body. Dark blood, almost black under the floodlights, mixed with chunks of tissue I couldn't identify and didn't want to.
The EGs had been thorough.
Fifty-five bodies littered the grounds, and calling them bodies was generous. An ex-Delta operator lay three feet from the fence.
I could tell he'd been Delta from the tactical vest—the one part of him still intact. His face was gone, completely caved inward like someone had taken a sledgehammer to a watermelon. Gray-pink brain matter oozed out through the shattered skull, mixing with bone fragments that caught the light.
