Page 145 of Immune

“So is your personality,” I snap back.

He doesn’t bite. Instead, he says, “The crank needs force.”

“And I need men to stop thinking force solves everything,” I argue.

His mouth tightens for a brief moment, but then he says, “Right now, it does.”

The moment the words leave his mouth, the whole room shudders. Not from the Zeds. And not from above. A fast skitter rattles through the service duct overhead.

Ewan turns white as a sheet. “Fast Rot.”

The words hit me like ice water just as the plastic strips next to the loading shutter tremble. The Runner bursts through the side hallway behind them, tearing through hanging plastic with a shrill screech that sets every nerve in my body on fire. It moves too fast to track properly, limbs too long and mouth split. Eyes cloudy, empty, and starving.

And it guns straight for the pilot. Wait, no. For the movement near him.

Xeon.

Kaito.

The blood.

Everything seems to happen all at once. Fletcher turns, Kaito tries to step in and almost folds over his wounded side, Xeon moves for the pilot, and Ewan shouts something.

But the Runner changes direction at the last second.

Toward me.

Good.

Bad.

Fine.

I’m already in its path, so I lift my knife, shifting my weight despite the shooting pain coming from my battered knee. The Runner launches itself at me, all speed and gnashing teeth, and I know before it even reaches me that I’m half a second too slow. It’s not much, but it’s certainly enough in this scenario.

Before the Runner reaches me, a body slams harshly into my side. It’s hard enough that I slam into the shelving, my breath leaving my lungs with a forceful punch, as Fletcher takes the Runner’s full impact. His rifle clatters away from him just as the Runner’s claws slash across his shoulder and upper chest, tearing through fabric and flesh. Fletcher grunts, low and furious, driving one forearm up under its jaw before its mouth can reach his throat.

For one devastating second, I see teeth inches away from his face, and something inside me grows very quiet. Then very sharp.

I throw my knife and it sinks into the Runner’s temple, but it’s not deep enough.

Fletcher twists, taking the weight of the creature, using his whole body like a wedge as he barks, “Move!”

Absolutely fucking not.

I yank a second blade from my belt, grab the Runner by the back of its ruined shirt, and drive the knife up from under the base of its skull with every ounce of rage that fills my body.

The Runner jerks only once before it collapses over Fletcher like the world’s worst blanket. I kick it off him hard. Maybe with a little too much force, although there’s no such thing in my world. Especially when Fletcher is bleeding.

Breathing.

Alive.

My ears ring.

Across the room, Xeon and Kaito finish the last two Zeds close to the broken service door. Ewan shoves a crate up against the gap and swears in a stream of Welsh that sounds kind of musical and bone-deeply insulting.

The room falls into the kind of silence that only ever happens after violence.