Necropolis. James Axler
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He also had his knife in its leg sheath. The one part of him that felt like it hadn’t been swung at with a sledgehammer was his leg below the knee, where the fighting blade rested.
A knife. A gun. His shadow suit, sans optics. Two grenades. A flickering LED flashlight.
He touched his face. The Commtact plate must have been jarred loose when the face of his shadow suit hood had been torn off. He patted himself down, reaching down the neck of the suit, but he couldn’t find the contact plate.
Maybe it was better this way.
Brigid and Grant had shadow suits, as well, clothing that could have cushioned their plummet down the chasm.
But that was an advantage denied to Nathan, Thurpa and the new girl, Lyta.
He looked up. The sky was gone. Had the earth closed up? And had it been only he and Grant who had fallen? Indeed, had Grant fallen? Or was he still trapped aboveground, kept from advancing by the rift that had opened ahead of him?
Alone in the darkness, Kane knew that there were two ways to go. Up the inclined ledge, toward the surface where his friends may or may not be, or down, deeper into the belly of the underground, where he was certain the trouble originated.
His enemies were likely ahead of him. That meant going down.
Kane descended into the abyss.
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