Page 89 of Hollow State

“I improved it.” Finch’s gaze snapped back to Darwin. “Both of you should have been proud. Instead, you became obstacles.”

Darwin let out a slow breath. “People died.”

“People always die in development," Finch said. "Just like it's time for you to die. I'm tired of this conversation."

The guard lifted his rifle.

“You were never suited for the end stage,” Finch said. “You’re a brilliant researcher. A decent doctor. But you lack the courage to take a discovery to its logical conclusion.”

“No,” Darwin said. “I lack the cruelty.”

“Take care of them," Finch said. "Move the bodies somewhere they won’t be found.”

Gideon shoved Darwin toward the racks.

As Darwin stumbled, he reached for his weapon at his ankle.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

The guard on the right dropped hard, his weapon clattering across the floor.

Gideon raced across the room, grabbed Darwin’s sleeve and yanked him sideways. Rounds chewed into the rack where Darwin had been standing. Sparks jumped from metal. Glass burst from one of the server cabinet doors, scattering across the floor like ice.

Darwin hit the end of a rack shoulder-first.

Gideon fired from a crouch, two sharp shots that drove Finch’s remaining guard behind a column. More shots were fired from deeper in the racks.

A guard shouted.

Then nothing from that side.

Darwin tried to find Finch. He searched, but all he saw was racks filled with flashing lights.

A round slammed into the rack beside Darwin’s head, the impact sending a hot spray of metal against his cheek.

He ducked then fired toward where he’d seen the muzzle flash.

Another shot cracked through the aisle, and he felt a pinch, or maybe more like a stab in the gut. It wasn't pain exactly, but there was pressure.

He fell back against the rack, grabbed his abdomen, and looked down.

Blood spread across the front of his shirt, dark and quick. For a second, everything inside him went very calm as his medical mind checked off the injury.

Lower abdominal bullet wound. No exit. Significant bleed. Possible bowel involvement. Possible vascular injury.

“Shit." Darwin pressed his hand as hard as he could on the wound and slid down until his ass hit the floor. The server lights blinked beside his head, green and blue—indifferent. His fingers tightened around the gun.

Across the aisle, Gideon ducked behind another rack, his weapon up, his face pale in the red light. He shouted something Darwin couldn’t hear over the gunfire and the alarm that had begun screaming through the building.

Darwin sucked in a deep breath and glanced around.

One guard lay near the entrance. Another between the racks. A third crawled toward cover, leaving a dark smear behind him.

Coulter appeared for half a second at the far end of the aisle, rifle tucked to his shoulder.

Then Finch stepped into Darwin’s line of sight.

His shirt was torn at the sleeve. Blood marked one side of his face, but Darwin didn’t think it was his. Finch’s weapon pointed at Darwin’s chest.