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“We have to go!” a familiar voice yells.
I fucking know that voice!
My eyes widen at the silhouette clad in the guards’ uniform and a bullet-proof vest, marching toward us with a gun in his hand and a fucking grin. “What’s up, bro? Got a bit tossed around?”
“Kai!” Kat squeals.
Fucking Droga!
My breath hitches in my throat as I can’t believe my eyes, my lips stretching in a smile.
“Stop gawking and start moving,” he commands.
“Move toward the eastern shore!” a guard yells. “Cover the front and the back! Move! Move! Move!”
A shadow runs toward me, and Droga intercepts him mid-way, smashing him with a gun.
The guards have no mercy, firing repeatedly at the shadows.
“Fucker,” Droga hisses as he kicks another thug away, then takes a spot next to me, shielding me.
“What are you doing here, Droga? You got lost?” I tease him, still in disbelief he’s here.
“Nah. Was passing by, heard someone whining, ‘Droooo-gaaa,’” his voice turns all pathetic, “‘co-o-o-o-me sa-a-a-a-a-ve me.’”
Laughter escapes me, and it’s the most ridiculous moment—me grinning as bullets rain all around us.
There’s a familiar humming in the air, and only now do I notice a drone, then another, but they are shot down immediately.
We are moving slowly but steadily, like a small column, away from the fire and into the darkness.
Places like this shouldn’t exist. I never suspected there’d be so many people in these slums. And so many of them are angry and reckless, the guards sending a shadow after shadow to the ground as the darkness echoes with moans of pain.
There are several guards ahead of us, weapons raised. Several others are behind, covering us.
Another shot in our direction jerks one of the guards, and he sends a round of shots in response.
A radio crackles. “Forty-two, come in.”
“Got them,” one guard blurts into the radio. “Moving toward the shore.”
“Boats are at the location,” comes the reply.
“Copy.”
There are fewer structures here, the landscape bare even though it’s hard to see. There’s a desert of nothingness ahead, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks louder.
It’s easier to breathe, except for the smoke that hovers above the ground like fog. Fuck, we almost made it out.
We crouch in the dark, the guards’ flashlights off, but the little green lights on their night visions indicate they know where we’re going.
God, there’s a reason I stayed away from this fucking dump.
I crouch closer to Kat and take her hand. She squeezes it hard. Droga is on the other side of me, looking around, though here, outside the Ashlands, away from the fire pits, it’s harder to see.
“Almost there,” a guard’s voice blurts into a radio.
“Copy.”
