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I raise my chin defiantly, ignoring my sprinting pulse. "Well, unless you can turn that 'should be' into a 'will be,' then I'm not going to let you go out there." As soon as I say the bold words, worry spills through my veins. That worry only magnifies as rage flickers in his eyes.
"Are you giving me an order?" He takes a deliberate step toward me. "You should know that I don't like to be bossed around. The only person who really gets away with it is Reece."
"Um ..." A bit of fear creeps up, but I hold my ground. "Yes, I'm giving you an order."
His eyes narrow. "And you think I'd just, what? Listen to you?"
Smashing my quivering lips together, I shrug. "Hoping, maybe."
He angles his head to the side, his eyes boring into mine. "I didn't really think you had it in you to be so bossy."
"Me, neither." My fingernails claw into the seat fabric as the bus jerks and red eyes flare wildly through the cracked windows. "Blaise, the windows aren't going to hold up for much longer. I think you should just let me go out there."
He tears his gaze off me and takes a good look around. "You're not going out there."
Tears pool in my eyes at the thought of him dying, all because he didn't want me to come in here alone. "You'll die if I don't."
"Maybe not."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, time in Oblivion runs a little differently than in the real world. While we've only been in here for maybe an hour, we've been in the machine for probably over a week. So maybe, if we hold on for just a little bit longer, we'll be pulled out." His gaze meets mine, and the corners of his mouth tip downward. "Why are you crying?"
"I'm worried." Feeling silly, I lift my hand away from the seat to wipe the tears from my eyes.
The second my fingers leave the fabric, the bus abruptly tilts from the front, sending me falling into Blaise. My chest crashes into his and our legs tangle as he catches me in his arms. He loses his footing, and we slam into the back door so hard that the glass cracks against our weight.
I barely have time to worry before the front of the bus drops back to the ground, and we sail in the opposite direction with suitcases and bodies flying around us. We tumble halfway down the aisle before stopping, my back slamming against the floor. A second later, Blaise lands on top of me, bracing his weight with his arms and softening the collision.
Pushing back on his hands, he inspects my face, neck, and arms. "Are you okay?" he asks through ragged breaths.
"I think so." I eye him over like he did me, searching for wounds. "Are you?"
He bobs his head up and down, swallowing hard. "Always."
I suck in an inhale then free it, the scent of him overwhelming me. He smells so wonderful, like life. I take another inhale and another, my head drifting upward.
Just one little taste ...
He trembles as I near him, and my hunger pains blaze into a desperate starvation.
Put your lips to his and drink him ... See what he tastes like ...
A frown etches across his face. "Allura?"
"Hmmm ...?" My voice sounds so far away.
"Snap out of it." His sharp voice wrenches me out of my trance.
Realization and shame douses over me like a bucket of ice water to the face. Oh, my God, I was about to taste his life.
"I-I'm sorry," I sputter, pressing my hands to his chest to push him off me.
He bends his elbows, lowering his body back down until my arms are squished between our chests. "Don't be sorry." His chest crashes against my hands with every uneven breath he takes. "I think the stress is making you lose control. Take deep breaths and stay with me, okay?"
Closing my eyes, I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. In. Out. In. Out. Once I feel calmer, I crack my eyes open and find Blaise watching me with fear and something undecipherable in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, wanting to make his fear go away. "You don't have to be afraid of me. The hunger's gone now." Or, well, at least more controllable.
A crease forms between his brows. "I'm not afraid of you."
My hands are resting against his chest, and I can feel his heart thundering underneath the metal plate. "Your heart is racing."
"That's not because I'm afraid." He remains still for a heartbeat longer before quickly pushing off me. After running his hand over his head several times, he offers me his hand yet doesn't make eye contact with me. When I lace my fingers through his, he lifts me to my feet then releases my hand. "They're gone."
"Huh?" My gaze flies to the windows spider-webbed with cracks. Not a single Order is in sight, but the emptiness sends a shiver up my spine. "That's strange. Why would they take off?"
"Maybe something scared them off." Scooting a dead body onto the floor, he kneels on a seat and peers out the window. "What the ...?" He jerks back and shoves me down to the ground, right beside a dead, middle-aged woman with red hair and half her cheek missing. She must have died recently, too, because her blood isn't completely dry yet. "Stay there and pretend you're dead."
"Why? What's going on?" I keep my gaze fixed on him, attempting to pretend I'm not lying less than a foot away from a dead body.
"We're about to get hit hard." He wipes his hand over the dead woman's cheek until his fingers are soaked in blood, and then smears it across my face.
My body twinges in revulsion, but I manage to keep my gag reflex under control by reminding myself of all the gross situations I experienced back at the channels. Like the time I watched a Warden split open a Visitor's chest with his bare hands over an argument about payment. His heart landed by my feet and strangely kept beating for quite some time. What made the situation even more disgustingly appalling is that the Warden ate the heart afterward.
"Whatever happens, don't move, okay?" Blaise says then takes off toward the front of the bus.
The air grows quiet as I lie perfectly still with the scent of blood, sweat, and spoiled flesh making my eyes water. The longer the eerie silence possess the air, the more worried I grow that perhaps Blaise decided to leave the bus and sacrifice himself.
Panic sets in, and I start to get up to go look for him, when the windows of the bus explode as Orders dive through the openings, landing on the seats and aisle. I fall back to the ground as glass spritz through the air like a heavy rainstorm. The sharp edges tear at my face and legs, and blood oozes out for a second before my healing ability kicks in and new flesh grows over the gashes.
"Where is she?" The robotic voice sounds like it's coming from one seat over.
"She's in here somewhere," another one replies from a little farther away. "I saw her come in."
"You know what she looks like, right?" another one asks.
"Of course I do," the first robot snaps.
Their footsteps clink against the floor as they move around the aisle.
Fearing they'll recognize me when they pass, I angle my head toward the dead woman next to me, latch on to her arm, and drag the body over until my face is hidden underneath her shoulder. Then I trap my breath in my chest and slacken my body.
Click. Click. Click. The footsteps get closer.
"What was that thing she was with?" The mechanical voice is unnervingly close, and it takes every ounce of my strength not to quiv
er.
"A human, perhaps."
"No, it wasn't human." Click. Click. Click. "At least, not completely human."
"You think it was part machine?"
Thump. Crack. Boom.
Blaise part machine? Shock briefly rises inside me, but hastily fizzles. If he is half-machine, it would explain his strength, mind-bending ability, and the metal pieces embedded into his flesh.
I twitch as an object bumps my foot, and then I bite down on my lip to keep from breathing loudly.
What the hell are they doing out there?
"It could be. Although, I haven't seen a Forbidden in centuries."
The word dances in my mind. Forbidden. Forbidden. Forbidden.
No, don't call them that. Call them Greystelies.
I have no idea where the voice comes from or what the word even means, but I hardly time to make sense of it as an icy, hard object whacks me in the foot.
"Well, if it is, we need to take it to Leader," one of the robots insists.
A metal object brushes my bare leg, causing goose bumps to sprout across my flesh.
"I really wish you'd stop calling him that." Metal smacks into my leg hard, and I battle back a wince.
Squeak. Clink. Thump.
"Why? That's what he is."
"He has a name and has asked you to call him it a thousand times."
"Leader is a better name."
"You're a moron."
"Yeah, well you're a--"
The noise of metal scraping metal scratches through the air, making my brain rattle inside my skull. My eyes roll back as my eardrums explode and blood gushes out of my ears. The pain is unbearable. My stomach clenches, and vomit burns at the back of my throat. I want to cry out in pain, but I'm too afraid to move.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I remain motionless, drowning in vomit-inducing pain with my face underneath the dead woman's shoulder. With no eardrums left, I can't hear anything, leaving me blind and deaf to what's going on.
Every time something brushes against my leg or bumps into my foot, I nearly crawl out of my skin. Still, I don't move and hardly breathe until the woman's body is thrown off me.
Instinctively, I lift my foot up to fight, but realize mid-kick that Blaise is standing at the end of my seat, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. When he spots my foot heading toward his knee, he darts his hand out, and his fingers enclose around my ankle. Then his lips begin to move, but the sound of his voice doesn't reach my ears.
