Just Call Me An Action Hero
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My shoulder hits the earth first. The skin tears, rock cutting into my flesh. It's when my ankle slams against the concrete that I cry out. "Agh!" More gravel, more eating up the asphalt, before I slide to a stop. Aside from the searing pain in my ankle, I'm alive. Good.
Jemma...Come to me...
Oh. The world spins around me as I try to stand. I jump to my feet. Stupid. I can't stand on my right foot. At best it's sprained, at worst broken.
The hurt brings with it another wave of lucidity. I shake my head. Why the hell did I just throw myself out of a moving vehicle? Sure, Owen's no gem to be around, but...
"Jemma! Jemma, hurry. Get back in the car." Owen cries, from somewhere behind me.
But, just as quickly as I notice him, my chest tightens and all thoughts of Owen drift away. The ache recedes. It's easier to think of the boy. When I think of him, there's no pain. Where is my boy? I need to get to him.
Three police cars slam to a halt in front of us. I wave my arms, hoping they'll get to me before Owen does.
"Help me!" I scream. "Help. Somebody help! I've been kidnapped." I limp toward the cops. In the opposite direction on the highway, regular, non-stolen cars are speeding by. Why can't I be in one of those? Safe? Not hurting. Riding back to him.
A police officer gets out of the first car and ambles toward me. "Miss, are you all right? Are you hurt?" He's older, maybe sixty or so? With a round beer gut that implies his biggest threat to the bad guys is probably sitting on them.
The officers in the other cars don’t get out. Neither does Beer Gut’s partner, but I’m sure they’re at the ready. The exhaust from their running vehicles creates a toxic haze that burns my lungs.
I focus on Officer Beer Gut. "Yeah. I was kidnapped."
His eyes jump into saucer-wide mode. "Are you hurt?"
"Can you just take me to him?” I ask.
“To who?” Officer Beer Gut asks, frowning.
I take a step forward and wince as I put my weight on my ankle. “To him. The boy.” As I speak the words there’s a part of me that’s screaming, run away, you don’t want the boy. Yet, the need to see him overrides everything. I take another step and stumble.
A second officer climbs out of the passenger side of the first car. "Jemma. I'm sorry you're hurt. He won't like that we're bringing you to him damaged."
Ice, much like the kind I remember from Owen's breath seems to halt my blood. "How do you know my name? And what do you mean, he won't like it?"
"Yes," says Officer Beer Gut. "How do you know her name?" He's staring at his partner as though he's never seen him before.
Officer Two shrugs, but despite the human action, a network of black veins appears on his face, lacing together across his pale skin exactly the way they did on the tree woman. They cover his nose and cheeks, slip down to his neck. "Complication," he says, and, as he raises his hand, I realize he's not flexing fingers, but claw-like tree branches. He shoves the unforgiving branches straight into the chest of the older man and rips out his heart.
Blood squirts out of Beer Gut's chest, like in a horror movie. I'm screaming, screaming hard. Unable to move, to think. Like the night Molly was lost.
Before I can do anything more, Officer Two lashes out at me with his claw, slicing my chin. "Don't touch me!"
“Drop your weapon!” The officers in the remaining cars are out of their vehicles, guns pointed in Officer Two’s direction.
"You really are an idiot." Breath tickles the back of my neck as Owen sneaks up behind me. He bumps my bad ankle with his foot.
"Ouch!" Tears spill down my cheeks, even though I'm gritting my teeth.
Owen frowns. "Jem, what—" Officer Two whips a branch out. Owen puckers his cheeks and blows a stream of air outward. The wanna-be cop recoils and slackens, icing over.
Frost slowly encases the other vehicles, swirling over the windshields, tracing patterns. The police are frozen in place, eyes rolling violently.
With the threat on hold, Owen turns to me. "What were you thinking? You jumped out of a moving car! Are you hurt?" Owen's voice is filled with worry.
For just a moment, there's a ball of warmth in my chest. Owen cares about what happens to me. He doesn't want to see me get hurt.
“Are you hurt?” he regards me through darkened eyes.
"When I jumped I hurt my ankle. I think it's a sprain." As for what I was thinking, even I'm not entirely sure.
He nods and bends down, then prods at my ankle, checking God-knows-what. I'm trying to blot from my mind the little trails of heat that his examination is leaving behind. Even with the ache trying to cancel those sensations out, they're still there. After a thorough inspection, he stands up. "It doesn't seem broken, but I do think it's a bad sprain. We have to get you out of here."
There's a crackling sound. It reminds me of the library and Tree Woman. Crackle! Snap! Crackle! A shattering sound interrupts the moment, and then Officer Two's coming at us. His claws, swing at Owen and narrowly miss me.
A murderous look crosses Owen's face. "Come here."
Apparently, I don't respond quickly enough, because he reaches a hand behind the back of my neck, his fingers almost a caress. Before I realize what's going on, my cheek is jammed against Owen's rock hard torso and I get a strong whiff of soap and snow and boy.
"Hold your breath." His threatening tone propels me. I pull in a breath just before Owen expels one. His heart pounds hard against the spot where my ear rests on his chest.
All sound fades away.