Chapter Twenty-Two
The docking bay was a circus. The terrifying kind of circus. The fever dream with dancing clowns and warped music and flashing lights that could push someone to the edge of seizure. The Layton staff were like ants under a magnifying glass held to the sun. Scurrying frantically, crawling over each other in hopes of finding safe passage out of the fire.
The team put their guns away. One wide shot could mean putting a hole through Deb from accounts receivable, and they’d come to save people, not turn them into collateral damage. That restricted them to melee weapons.
Which suited Sam just fine. She ran through the crowd, the people turning to blurs in her periphery. She saw past them and picked the ShimVens and Rapoo out of the flurry of movement. She was a heat-seeking
