Page 53 of Sawyer’s Mistake

Fuck.

The aliens’ muscular legs took them quickly around the space. The Grim Reaper came across an overturned cart and kicked it aside effortlessly. It splintered into a million pieces, filling the barn with sawdust.

Sawyer looked around him. In a matter of seconds, the Remur would be upon him. There was a hole in the back wall behind him, just large enough for him to squeeze through. He considered his options. One Remur soldier would be difficult for a man to take on. Three was simply impossible.

A soft creaking sound from the rafters above. Perhaps a mouse. Perhaps something larger. The Remur stopped their advance and roared excitedly, lipless mouths stretched over large teeth.

He realized there was only one thing he could do. He used one index finger to fire up a quick message in Morse code to the team, using taps and spaces to signal the letters: W A I T.

Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the bike handles and pushed the solar cycle forward slightly. He wanted the Remur to see him with it, the better to cover Saoirse’s tracks. He sent a quick prayer that she was far away, or at least well hidden, and that she’d be smart enough to stay that way.

As soon as his eyes connected with the Remur, he let go of the cycle and raised his hands in the universal sign for surrender. The machine fell on the floor with a heavy thump.

In moments, the three Remur were on him, surrounding him. Their fetid stench enveloped him. The Grim Reaper roared.

The end of the bazooka was a dark tunnel that Sawyer knew marked the end of his life. He waited for the alien to fire. He swallowed, clenching his hands into first. It was okay to die like this, if it gave the others a chance to escape.

But the Grim Reaper never fired. In one fluid move, the bazooka was out of his face. The Grim Reaper was on Sawyer in half a second, lifting him clean off the floor by the neck. The alien’s enormous arm barely trembled, easily lifting Sawyer’s almost two hundred pounds high in the air.

Sawyer clenched his teeth. He was a grown man, a soldier, and wouldn’t die helpless, like a newborn puppy.

The Grim Reaper bellowed, the sound painful to Sawyer’s ears. For a moment, he wished the alien was wearing one of the translation boxes. Then he noticed something that made his blood run cold: the Remur wasn’t speaking to his soldiers. He turned 360 degrees, projecting his voice clear around the entire barn.

Fuck, no. He thinks Saoirse’s here, he’s trying to get her to come out.

He wouldn’t be used as bait to bring Saoirse out of hiding.

He raised his right knee until his hand touched the top of his boot, feeling for the small knife hidden there. His movements felt sluggish. He was already running out of air.

He finally found the knife and grasped it tight. It felt sharp but somehow insubstantial in his hand. It would have to do. He reached out sideways, rotating his shoulder and swinging his body towards the monster, knowing he would only have one chance to get this right.

The edge of the blade caught on the Remur’s thick gray mottled skin and slipped, as if across a tortoise shell. He almost lost hold of the knife but just managed to hold on to it. He twisted it downwards. He wasn’t strong enough to penetrate Remur skin. His only hope was to find the flap of skin that covered the Remur’s softer belly underneath. Though it increased the pressure on his windpipe, he pushed his arm forward. Stars flickered behind his eyes, his oxygen-deprived brain threatening to shut down.

He pushed forward blindly, his entire being centered on the knife. Finally, the knife found its home. A wet mass rushed between his fingers, his reward. He pushed even further until the knife was buried inside the alien’s body to the hilt. Then pushed further, suppressing a wave of disgust, until his hand was in that warm space too.

The Remur roared, agonized, but Sawyer heard it as a vague far away noise. He felt himself flying through the air as the alien released his hold on him but barely registered any pain even as he landed heavily on his ribs, getting the wind knocked out of him. A few seconds later his ribcage finally expanded and air started flowing in once again. When the pain came, he welcomed it, as it stopped him from passing out.

He managed to get his knees under him, too weak to crawl, one palm flat on the floor, the other still clutching the small knife.

In front of him, the Remur seemed frozen. The Grim Reaper was on his knees, his hand held tight against the wound. He roared. His two companions watched, temporarily struck still by this unexpected development.

Sawyer smiled grimly in satisfaction as rust-colored blood dripped from the wound and onto the hay-covered ground. He concentrated on getting some air into his lungs, one breath after the other. He didn’t think the wound he’d inflicted would be life-threatening, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He drew in one more breath, pulling his strength together, and then stiffly got his feet underneath him, feeling like he was a hundred years old and knowing at least one of his ribs was cracked from the landing. But he was alive and that in itself would have to be enough for now.

He went out the small hole he’d identified earlier, concentrating on putting one foot in front of another, finding that each step was easier than the one before.

He brought the watch to his mouth. “Tell me you’re outside,” he whispered. Had his friends had a chance to escape?

“We snuck out while you were playing hero,” Zander said, drily. “Saoirse’s with us,” he added quickly.

A weight was lifted from his shoulders and he found himself almost able to jog. He spared a quick glance behind him but the Remur were still in the barn. Either the wound was worse than he’d dared hope or and this was more likely, they were communicating with their friends.

“Get out of here,” he panted.

“Do as he says,” Storme ordered, coming into the conversation. “We’re on our way to pick you up, Sawyer.”

Instants later, the van was pulling towards him, the door already open. Meir’s hand pulled Sawyer in. Sawyer lay sprawled on the van floor as the van picked up speed again.

“They’ll be out soon,” he said. “I didn’t kill them.”