Electricity.I should have told him. I should have fucking told him! Because all I can think is that I really fucking wish Darius were here.
“I’m not a match for these fuckers. Not this many.” The Wyvern looks beat. His chest heaves with each breath. He’s got blood running down his cheek, and when he turns, I can see he’s got darts pegging his entire left side. “I can’t keep you all safe.” He glances around at the lot of them.
“We were called in for reinforcements by the COE. SDD reinforcements are said to arrive in ten,” an older woman with a tan, weathered face clips. “We can hold them until then.”
“You can’t. There are too many, their powers too strong. And they may have reinforcements coming themselves,” the Wyvern groans. He glances up at the sky. “The Marduk is here. He’ll have a hard time killing me by himself, but together with the rest of them, they could and will. I’m the biggest threat to them there is.” He glances again at me, his irises dancing with fire. “Monika, come with me now. Vanessa would kill me if I let you get hurt any more than you already are, and I don’t need to tell you what Taranis will do to me.”
“I’ll be okay,” I pant. “We’re going to run. They won’t chase us into Sundale. Once we’ve cleared the ports, we’ll be safe.” I say the words like I believe them, and for a moment, when his gaze hardens and he nods at me once, I nearly do.
“We’ll give you cover. Take the injured with you,” the commander of the reinforcements barks at the Wyvern.
He doesn’t hesitate. He can’t afford to. Not when the windows of the shack behind us explode outward.
The Wyvern grabs three of the four bodies he brought here, the fourth opting to remain back and help the rest. Meanwhile, I’m being grabbed again, this time by the commander, who shoves herself in front of me and starts firing, throwing commands out as she runs.
The gunfire has its intended effect. The villains, super as they may be, aren’t immune to bullets. I see that several are bleeding, and the teleporting individual hasn’t reappeared, thankfully. The Marduk is struck when one of the COE members shoots up at him, and it’s that small window that gives the Wyvern—and me—the time we respectively need.
The Wyvern bullets toward the sun, carrying the injured three. I make it to the next building and follow the corrugated-metal siding until I finally reach the back corner. Only two more buildings separate me from the road. Once I get to the road, I’ll officially be out of the port district. Once I get to the road, I believe the villains won’t follow me.Ssi-bal, I hope.
“I think we’re almost there,” I shout, turning around, but the commander who had been right at my back is on the ground, screaming as acid eats at her face below her helmet. I charge forward to help her, but she’s gurgling up blood, her body twitching as lifelessness quickly comes over her. My gaze is trained on her body. I take a picture, my lower half shaking when I spy a shadow on the ground. And it’s approaching.
“Why don’t you come out and take my picture? I promise, I’ll smile pretty for you,” a male voice coos. He’s not far now, not nearly far enough.
I turn and run—not toward the road, I’ll never make it—but to the closest building.
The warehouse doors are unlocked. Some are missing altogether, but this one’s hanging ajar. I enter it in a rush, light streaming into the big open space in patches. It’s cluttered, and errant sunlight catchesupturned crates, barrels, old broken machinery that was left behind. I just pick a patch of light and run toward it.
As I’m crossing the space, I hear a door bang behind me. I’m already at the opposite end of the warehouse, at another door—this one locked. There’s a broken window to my right. I climb up on a few boxes to reach it, then use my camera body to smash what’s left and haul myself outside, tearing up my thighs on broken glass. The drop is far, but I manage not to break anything as I land on the concrete below, then run some more.
I don’t have a sense of which direction I’m going, only that the sound of bullets is growing intermittent and fading to the background. I hope that means they’re running away, not that they’ve been caught by something.
Sweat drips down my spine. The buildings turn from metal to brick. They don’t look inhabited, and when I run past the mouth of a dead-end alleyway, I can see a cluster of houseless men looking out at me. They flinch when I come to an abrupt stop.
“Hide,” I hiss, trying to keep my voice as low as possible. “Hide!”
I start to run again, but one of the men calls out. “Come hide with us!”
I hesitate, but not for more than a moment. My lungs burn, my thighs shake so badly it’s a miracle I’m still standing. I turn around and the three men motion me forward. They’re moving toward the back of the alley, which terrifies the shit out of me because I don’t see an exit. And then one of them charges ahead of the rest and shoves a massive green garbage bin to the side, revealing a small hole that leads down into the brick building’s basement.
He slides inside and gestures for me to follow, going so far as to hold my waist so I don’t collapse when I hit the ground. It’s a far drop. The other man follows, but the final man shoves the garbage bin back into place.
My hand shakes as I point. I start to ask about him, but when I turn, one man’s pale face shines in the dark. He lifts a finger to his lipsand I don’t say a word, but I exhale in relief when I realize there’s also a hole in the garbage bin large enough for the remaining man to wriggle through. He drops down onto the ground, and the three men guide me silently across a dry basement cluttered with objects I imagine might belong to these men or others living here with them.
They take me to a crawl space I would have never noticed was there. It’s covered by an old air-conditioning vent, which they remove and replace once we crawl inside. And not a moment too soon either.
There’s a banging sound. Loud. It sounds like an explosion.
“Where’d you go, little pretty camera girl?” an echoey voice calls. The same acid spitter as before. “Taranis’s little key. The Marduk isn’t happy with him,” he tsks. “Not happy at all now that he’s removed himself from the game. Which means you’refair game.”
The men are all completely still. The world around us is dark. So dark. Too dark. Panic I hadn’t felt before starts to seep into my pores, my flesh, my bones. I can’t see anything, and I don’t dare move to pull out my phone or my camera. I’m lying on my stomach, my forehead pressed to the cold, dry concrete below me. I have the chills, and I can’t seem to stop shivering. I think I might be bleeding somewhere. I don’t even know.
“I want my fucking picture taken,” the same voice roars. There’s a banging sound. Tearing. The fucker is destroying anything and everything he can find.
I feel so sorry I came to hide. I should have kept running. I shouldn’t have risked these men’s lives. I can’t believe none of them have thought to turn me in yet ... and then one of them grabs me.
I jolt.
He has me by the arm. I try to pull away, but his dry, cracked palm shifts up my wrist to my hand. He holds it, squeezing it, and I realize he’s trying to reassure me. There are tears on my face as I press my cheek to the concrete, facing him. I squeeze his hand back.
