The scouts stare down at me with their big, orange eyes. She-Bird’s mouth twists and tightens. “We’ve got this under control. Move along.”
The girl’s legs continue to kick, though not as forcefully as before. Her face is turning pale and her screams weak and hoarse.
“Can I have her? Tell me I can have her!” I say, as if the girl is a bug, and I’m a sadistic child with a magnifying glass and ideas fit for a summer day.
“Why would you want her?” Griffin asks, giving She-Bird a sideways glance.
The girl’s arms fall limply to the side as her attacker gives her a shake and a tighter squeeze around the neck. Her eyes widen for an instant, then roll to the back of her head.
Do something, Marci! She’s gonna die.
“Uh, she could be my pet. Yes, my lovely pet,” I say.
“There’s no room for pets,” She-Bird says. “They either die or they join the ranks. Except without Spawners, the second option isn’t really possible, is it?” she asks the question as if the lack of reproductively-capable Eklyptors is my fault. If she only knew.
I almost laugh, but I’m too scared for the girl. The truth is: I’m responsible for the extermination of Whitehouse’s Spawners. I was the one who found out where he kept them hidden and gave IgNiTe the intel so they could kill every single one of them.
“So the girl dies,” She-Bird says, then slams her against the blacktop and leans into her, putting all her weight into a killing chokehold.
“No!” I scream, unable to help myself.
As if my word was a threat or a punch, Griffin crouches into attack position. “You’re a fuckin’ Fender,” he says, the word rolling off his tongue the same way the word Eklyptor rolls off mine.
“Take her!” She-Bird orders. “Alive, if possible.”
So much for lying my way out of this one.
Heart, blood, lungs automatically pumping into action, I spin to the side just as Griffin lunges. Like a raging bull, the beast charges past me, staggers to a stop and spins to face me again.
Their plan might be to take hostages, but mine is not. I go for my gun. Inhumanly fast, Griffin gets his weapon first and, in the same motion, aims and shoots before I even have a chance to lift my arm.
Two hammer blows hit me in the chest. My body jerks twice. Pain blossoms from a pinprick into a huge mushroom cloud and drops me to ground. I fall on my back and blink up at the blue sky, fighting for breath.
“Alive, I said, you asshole,” She-Bird scolds.
“I wasn’t about to let her shoot me,” Griffin complains.
“Go check on her,” she growls.
Get up. Get up. Get up.
Gun still in hand, I roll to the side, shooting. One of my bullets strikes its intended target, piercing She-Bird strangling forearm. She growls, lets go of the girl and cradles the wound to her chest.
Pain still burning under my vest, I keep rolling until I reach one of the many abandoned vehicles that litter the street. I take cover behind it and jump to my feet. Crouched low, I scurry to the back end of what turns out to be a large SUV. I press my back to the vehicle and thump my chest three times.
God, it hurts.
I’m panting, wishing I could rip the vest right off.
Bullets pierce through the back windshield and zip past my head. I duck, run around to the front of the SUV, and shoot at Griffin over the hood.
My aim is true.
Griffin’s inhuman eyes go wide. In slow motion, he looks down at his chest. Blood squirts out from two round holes on a yellow patch of skin. He drops the gun and falls to his knees, wearing a dumbfounded expression.
Eyes roving from side to side, I look for She-Bird. She’s nowhere in sight. I whirl, thinking she might have sneaked up behind me, but there’s no one, just the trashed sidewalk and the once-trendy brick buildings.
Breathing in overdrive, I pull away from the SUV, spinning, the gun sweeping wide circles around me. Slowly, I make my way to the girl, my head snapping this way and that as my imagination conjures shadows in every possible hiding place. I look up, trying to spot a flying figure in the sky or up in the buildings. I find nothing but feel watched. Thoroughly watched.
“Hey!” I nudge the girl in the ribs with the tip of my boots, afraid to let down my guard and check if she’s breathing. She doesn’t respond.
God, was this all in vain?
I poke her again. She moans. I point the gun to the ground and slowly squat, my gaze still jumping from the street to the sky and the top of the buildings.
“Hey, hey! Can you get up?”
The girl rolls to her side and curls up, grabbing her neck and sobbing in a weak, broken voice.
“C’mon, you have to get up. We have to get out of here!”
My heart is racing faster than ever. Images of monsters dropping from the sky flash in and out of my vision. God, what if She-Bird went for backup? We’re not that far from headquarters. If she did, my cover is blown. Shit!
“C’mon!” I growl in my most commanding voice. “If you don’t get up, I’ll leave you here, and you know they’ll be back.”
She rouses at the threat. Her eyes blink open. She swallows audibly and winces. After a moment, she looks up. Our gazes meet. Her blue eyes are bloodshot and terrified.
“Do you want to live or not?” I ask.
She nods but looks so doubtful it makes me think she might rather die. Well, screw that. I didn’t risk my life to have her give up on me, so I hook an arm around hers and force her up.
“Follow me. We have to get out of here. C’mon!” I push her toward the SUV, then move that way myself.
I give the car a quick inspection, checking its tires and general state. It looks drivable. It’d better be.
I run to the driver side door and try the handle. No such luck. Holding the gun with both hands to steady my nervous grip, I take a couple of backward steps and shoot at the window. The girl yelps, startled by the sound.
The bullet drills right through the glass, creating a large spider web of cracks that spreads outward.
Teeth clenched, I slam my elbow against the fractured glass. It takes a couple of hits before the window collapses inwardly and I’m able to pop the lock. After tossing the sheet of broken glass onto the street, I hurry inside and unlock the passenger side door.
“C’mon, get in!” I command the numb-looking girl. She doesn’t move. Instead, her eyes dart from side to side as if looking for a place to run.
“Don’t be stupid. You’ll never outrun them,” I say as I smash the butt of the gun against the plastic that wraps around the steering column. The cover snaps off, revealing a bundle of wires.
My heart races like a ticking clock in overdrive. We have to get out of here. Stat!
I set the gun down on the seat and get to work. I’ve just finished pulling the bundle of wires loose when the girl shrieks and takes off down the street at a full pelt.
