Thump thump thump. The sound was getting closer. I eyed the stairwell door.
“Can they climb stairs?” My voice wobbled.
Edan grabbed my arm and pulled me back into the sparring room. He swiped at the door, but it didn’t close all the way.
A scrab smashed through the stairwell door and was quickly followed by three more. They crashed down the hallway, galloping on all fours, moving almost in sync. Their claws clicked against the floor as they ran. One opened its mouth, revealing huge, sharp teeth.
The scrabs flew past the sparring room without spotting us. I took a tiny, silent step back.
“Are there real weapons in here?” Edan whispered, looking around. There was nothing but boxing gloves, punching bags, and some dull sparring blades. Those wouldn’t cut human skin, much less a scrab’s.
“No,” I said. Were we actually going out to fight those things?
Right. That’s what we did. It was part of that whole monster hunter description.
“I think they’re next door,” I said, fighting down every impulse in my body that said hide. “I saw Grayson putting them back in the closet after he showed them to us.”
Screams sounded from somewhere in the complex.
“We should try to get to them, right?” Edan said. “Julian told us to stay put, but I don’t think he realized they would come in—” He abruptly stopped talking as another scream ripped through the building. It sounded like it was coming from below us, on the first floor.
“Yes,” I said. Hiding wasn’t an option. Half the teams were outside. The good teams. We had to help the other recruits.
I slowly pushed open the door again and peeked out. No scrabs. Just a trail of blood.
Edan and I stepped into the hallway. I walked as quietly as I could, jumping at a roar that sounded a little too close for comfort.
The door to the storage room creaked as I opened it. Edan sucked in a breath, his head snapping to where the scrabs had disappeared at the end of the hall. It was still empty.
The room was full of boxes, with at least a hundred spears in a clump against the wall. I grabbed two and handed one to Edan. The first box I opened was full of daggers, each of them in its own sheath. My pants didn’t have pockets (thanks for nothing, women’s clothing designers), so I tucked the handle into my waistband.
It didn’t feel like nearly enough. There was supposed to be armor and formations and a plan. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not yet.
Edan grabbed one of the daggers and slipped it into his pocket (showoff). He looked just as nervous as I was.
“Do we follow them?” I asked, pointing. I could hear human screams and scrab roars from that direction.
“I think we should.”
We walked down the hallway, sidestepping the splatters of blood. I realized I didn’t know if scrab blood was red. There was no way to tell if it was human blood or not.
We turned the corner.
A scrab flew through the air.
I gasped as it crashed into Edan. He yelled. The scrab pinned him to the wall with the claws of one arm. It smelled like dirt and blood and something sour.
I lifted the spear. Neck. Upward thrust. We’d practiced this yesterday, and Julian had said, Good job.
I drove the spear into the scrab’s neck. My fingers brushed its tough, prickly skin, and I had to repress the urge to immediately snatch my hand away.
I tried to push the spear upward, but the scrab howled and spun around to face me, making me lose my grip on it. The scrab reached up and yanked the blade out of its neck. Blood poured from the wound. It was red.
The knife slipped easily out of my waistband, and I was surprised to find that my hands were only shaking a little.
A spear rammed straight through the back of its neck and out the other side, splattering blood across my shirt. Edan grimaced as he held tight to the end of the spear.
The scrab had the worst scream. It was more animal than human, the sort of sound that made your blood curdle because you knew something just died.
It staggered backwards and slumped to the floor. The spear cracked in half as it hit the ground. Edan scrambled closer to me.
“Thanks,” I said breathlessly. I returned my knife to my waistband.
“Yeah, you too.” Four holes were poked into the left shoulder of his shirt, where the scrab stuck its claws in. Blood dripped down his arm.
“On your left!” someone screamed nearby. A scrab roared.
I heard the click of claws on the floor before it rounded the corner. I reached for the spear protruding from the dead scrab’s neck and yanked it as hard as I could, stumbling as it came loose.
Edan ducked the scrab’s claw as it swiped at him, and then jabbed his knife into its side before skittering away. He was nimble and fast, just like in practice. Even more so now, like the adrenaline pushed him to be better.
The scrab yelped as Edan drove the blade in, but it wasn’t a kill shot. He took advantage of the momentary distraction to deliver a kick straight into its stomach.
I jumped forward and plunged the spear into the scrab’s neck. Upward thrust. Harder this time.
I must have hit its vocal cords, because only a squeak escaped its mouth. I tried to keep a grip on the spear, but it broke off inside the scrab’s neck as it slumped to the ground. I tossed the broken handle to the ground.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” Dorsey burst through the stairwell door, shoes slipping on the tile. He flailed and nearly fell, catching himself with one arm. He shot up and broke into a run, leaping over the dead scrab sprawled out on the floor. I suddenly understood why training included jumping over hurdles.
“I stabbed it, and it barely slowed down!” Dorsey yelled as he passed me.
The scrab flew around the corner, dripping blood from a wound on its side.
Dorsey skidded to a stop, looking from the spear in the scrab’s throat and back to me. “Where did you get those weapons?”
I pointed. “Closet. That way.” He took off.
I pulled my knife out of my pants. Edan stood next to me, bloody knife gripped in his hand.
“We should do that dive thing—what did Julian call it?” I asked. The scrab was running straight toward us, a little slower than the others had. The wound was slowing it down.
“Team dive,” Edan said.
“Right. I’ll dive.”
He looked at me quickly. “You sure?”
“Yeah, I can take a hit.”
He nodded once, either because he believed me or because there was no time to argue. The scrab had nearly reached us.
It ran for us, claws outstretched. I waited until the last possible moment before diving to the ground on all fours, then covering my head with my hands as I braced for impact.
The scrab crashed into me, its legs buckling as it lost its balance. It landed with a thump. I scrambled to my feet.
Edan drove his spear into the back of the scrab’s neck. It thrashed, screamed, and then stilled.
“You all right?” Edan asked, watching as I rolled my shoulders. That would leave a bruise.
“I’m fine.” I pointed to where blood was dripping down his arm. “You?”
“I can’t feel it. I think it’s the intense panic.” He grinned. He must have been really good at hiding his panic.
Footsteps sounded behind us, and I turned to see Dorsey running toward us with four machetes, two gripped in each hand.
“Oh, you got it,” he said breathlessly. He leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. “Damn. I barely outran that thing.”
Edan pointed to where a piece of broken wood was sticking out of the Scrab’s side. “Did you do that?”
“Yeah. Broke a chair leg. It was all I could find.” He held up his machetes. “I brought one each for you guys.”
“And two for you?” I took one.
“Hell yes, two for me. I’m not going anywhere without a weapon after this.” He held his two blades up in front of his body. “You guys ready? It’s bad down there.”
“Wait, weren’t you with Julian in the boxing room?” I asked. “Does no one have weapons down there?”
“No, I saw a bunch of people down there with weapons. But I left for a minute to refill my water bottle, so I wasn’t with Julian when they came.” He broke into a jog. “Come on.”
Edan and I followed Dorsey to the end of the hallway and down the stairs. He skidded to a stop as he pushed open the door on the first floor. I stepped around him.
The lobby was covered in dead scrabs. I counted ten—no, twelve. There was a giant hole in the middle of the floor where they must have entered the building.
And Madison was walking through the dead bodies, bloody machete in hand, looking like she was ready to kill twelve more. She wiped the back of her arm across her forehead, smearing blood across it.
A scrab leapt out of the stairwell on the other side of the room, launching its body at Madison.
She swung the machete, hitting the scrab on its side. It screamed as she slid the blade out. She ducked as it swung at her, and then sliced the machete across its throat. It slumped to the ground.
“What the fuck is going on?” she yelled.
Noah emerged from the stairwell behind the scrab. He was breathing heavily and carried his own bloody machete.
“Did you get all of them?” Madison asked.
“Not even close,” he panted. “Get ready.” He pointed to us. “Move away from that door. I drove them to the other end of the hallway, and they’re probably coming down now.”
We scrambled away from the door. I whipped around to face it, machete poised to fight.
A scream sounded from my right. A recruit flew out of the small gym and smashed into the wall. Dani and Hunter flew around the corner. Dani had a machete, Hunter a gun.
“We’re all going to die,” Dorsey said.
“You are, at least,” Madison said.
He shot her an incredulous, horrified look.
“Move back more, dumbass,” she said. “You’re so close to the door that they’ll crush you as soon as they open it.”
He still looked insulted, but he took several big steps back.
“If you die, I apologize for calling you a dumbass,” Madison said.
“And if I don’t die?”
“Then I meant it.”
Noah actually laughed. My heart was beating too fast for laughter.
The stairwell door banged open.
They piled out, one after the other. I counted six before I had to stop counting because one was flying toward me.
“Duck, Clara!” Noah yelled from behind me.
I dropped into a squat. The scrab flew over my head.
I jumped to my feet. A scrab trailed out the door behind the rest, blood dripping from its neck. It opened its mouth and roared, giving me the best view yet of its teeth. I tried not to think about how it could easily rip off my arm if I got it between those teeth.
It swiped at me. I ducked. It took another try, and I grabbed its arm. Its flesh was prickly and just as hard as it looked, more like a shell than skin. I shoved it out of the way as I sliced the blade of the machete across its neck. It stumbled backward, hitting the door and crumpling to the ground.
I quickly turned to find the rest of the team midfight. Dorsey screamed as he tried to stab a scrab with both machetes at once. Hunter shot off a round at it. Madison kicked a scrab in the chest.
Noah was pinned to the ground, and I jumped forward, aiming my blade for the scrab’s side. I drove it in. It screamed, and Noah kicked it off and scrambled to his feet. He was completely covered in blood, and from the look of it, none of it was his.
“Oh, that’s gross,” he said, wrinkling his nose as he pulled his shirt away from his body. He grinned at me. “Thanks. You’re not bad with that thing.” He gestured at the machete I was holding.
“She’s pretty good with a spear too,” Edan said as he stepped away from the scrab he’d just killed. They were all dead. Dorsey slumped against the wall and let out a string of curse words.
I looked down at the blood on my machete. A cheer rose up from the back of the building.
“I think we got them all,” Noah said. His gaze snagged on something behind me. Julian and Grayson were running toward the front doors, recruits trailing after them.
Dani’s handcuffs rattled as she shook blood off her blade. “Hey, did you guys see—”
A scrab burst up from the ground and pieces of concrete went flying. Dani’s eyes widened as she stumbled backward.
Its claws were in her chest. The machete slipped from her hand.
I gasped and shot forward as the scrab pulled its claws from Dani’s body. Blood stained her shirt.
The scrab whirled away from me, and I reached for Dani. She swayed out of my reach. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hunter raise his gun. Shots rang out.
“Hunter, no!” Madison yelled.
Dani crumpled to the ground. The scrab jerked as bullets pelted its thick hide.
Something sharp hit my arm, and I yelped. It left a trail of fire on my skin. I blinked, my grip on my machete slipping.
The scrab lunged at me.