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I pull away and press my back against the wall. “Shit, shit, shit.” I slap my hands to the sides of my head and squeeze.
What do I do? What do I do?
I have to help her.
Yeah? And get yourself killed?
No. Can’t risk that! Getting rid of Elliot is my priority.
I’m still deliberating when I hear a loud shattering sound, followed by a shrill scream. In an instant, I make my decision.
This fight is for every human being, not only against every Eklyptor.
If I lose sight of that, I may as well let my crazy agent take over again.
Before doubt creeps in, I jump out of my hiding place and run the way I came. What I see sends a jolt of adrenaline into my veins, electrifying me.
She-Bird is holding the girl by the neck as if she’s nothing more than a doll. Her legs kick in mid-air while she scratches her attacker’s forearms like an enraged feral cat.
My boots slap the pavement and catch the scouts’ attention. Their heads snap my way.
I stop, chest pumping, mind reeling with possible things I could say to prevent this disaster. With no other option and little hope, I go for the crazy, stamping a maniacal grin on my face and clapping with happiness.
“Ooh, you got one. You got one!”
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 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.
Jolting upright, I go for the gun but, before I get a hold of it, there is a whoosh, and I fly away from the car and land in the middle of the street with a bone-shuddering thud. My lungs empty themselves at the impact. I wince in pain but force myself into action.
In one fluid motion, I bring my knees toward my face then kick-up to a standing position. Just as I get back on my feet, She-Bird tackles me to the ground. I land on my back once more and lose what little oxygen I’d managed to take in. The scout straddles me. Her hawk-like face is twisted in fury. She balls her hand into a large fist and pulls it back. I throw my arms over my face and manage to block the blow.
“Thought I’d let you get away, you little shit?” She-Bird tries another jab. I block it, too. She growls in frustration and tries to get my arms away from their protective position.
Pulling hard, she grunts between pointed teeth. “Whitehouse pays extra for Fenders and doesn’t care if they’re bruised up or not. Not as long as they’re alive.”
Her tall wings blotch the sky above, shining, translucent. It’s a beautifully cruel sight.
With the high-pitched cry of an eagle, She-Bird digs her sharp claws into one of my wrists and pries the arm away from my face. Through the opening, she uses her quick, avian reflexes to sneak in a powerful blow. I growl between clenched teeth, feeling as if a boulder has smashed against my cheekbone.
But there is no time to wallow, not when the punch has unbalanced her, and countless karate sparring matches taught me the required moves to escape this sort of situation.
The technique comes to me as second nature. In a brisk, strong move, I thrust my knees into She-Bird’s butt. The unexpected thump unbalances her further. She lurches forward. Her hands move to brace the fall and land right above my head. I follow up by sweeping her arms from under her and pushing her sideways with all I’ve got.
To my surprise, all I’ve got is too much. She-Bird is lighter than I thought, surely a trait required by all flying creatures. We tumble over and over and, when we stop, the scout ends up on top of me again.
Shit!
With a jerk, she pulls out her gun and aims it at my forehead. I freeze.
“You sure are more trouble than I thought you’d be,” she says between sharp breaths. “Maybe too much trouble to take you in alive.” Her face twists grotesquely as she seems to ponder what to do with me. Her orange eyes pierce mine, hatred burning in their depths.
I see the instant she makes up her mind to kill me. A cold shock bursts in the middle of my chest with the knowledge that I’m about to die. I close my eyes and, for a moment, regret my decision to fight for the girl. The regret only lasts for an instant, though. Confronted with the choice again, I’d do the same thing. Any other decision would be one I couldn’t live with.
The shot explodes with a deafening bang that sends a jolt through my body. I jerk, startled by the loud crack and a wet splatter on my face. My eyes blink open. She-Bird wavers over me, her forehead blown open, brain matter dangling from a jagged hole. She tips forward and crashes on top of me.
I lie still for a moment, uncomprehending. All of a sudden, She-Bird’s dead weight turns into a suffocating force. Desperately, I push her off me and sit up, swiping at my face over and over. My heart thumps in my ears. I spit blood and wipe my tongue on my sleeve, vomit rising to my throat.
I don’t know how long I sit there—wild and horrified by the fact that I’m wearing someone’s death all over my face—before I realize I’m still alive. Eventually, I come to and look around, wondering how come my brains are not the ones splattered all over the pavement.
A pair of blue eyes looks down at me from behind the barrel of my own weapon. The girl I planned to rescue stands in front of me, legs shoulder-width apart, gun gripped tightly between trembling hands. The SUV sits behind her, the driver side door thrown open. Two parallel streaks run down each side of the girl’s face as tears spill freely down her face.
Her mouth trembles. She looks scared out of her mind and doesn’t seem willing to aim the gun in any other direction but the bull’s-eye between my eyebrows.
In a shaky voice, she asks, “What . . . what the hell are you?”