Chapter 8

I was so transfixed by the sight of the Hellion ships– coming out under the sun– that I forgot about the betrayed marauders behind me. I heard a shout, reflexively ducking my head and grabbing Sonya to get her out of the way. 

The moment my hand circled her wrist, a sharp crack! snapped through the air.

Pain exploded in the back of my shoulder and through my chest, throwing me off balance. 

The world spun as I fell forward, taking Sonya with me. I think she was screaming, but I couldn’t hear her clearly. I could barely see. Jagged rocks stabbed into my body. Rebar smashed into my limbs and shredded my skin. I didn’t know which way was up, which way was down. I didn’t even know when I stopped rolling. 

I blinked at the grey sky, trying to clear my head and think past the pain. I’m sure I was hurting from the scratches and bruises of my fall, but the hot stickiness spreading over my chest snuffed any other concerns out. I turned my head awkwardly to look at the wound. 

White-hot agony pounded through my veins, blood oozing out from the top left of my pectoral, inches over my heart. The wound looked no bigger than a coin. How could such a small scratch cause so much pain? The left half of my chest felt like it was shredded. 

My heart skittered with worry, jumping to new heights and pouring more blood from my body. My entire left arm was numb. The dizziness remained in my head. I wouldn’t be able to escape the pain. But this wouldn’t keep me from escaping. Not now. Not when I was over the wall, so close to freedom. 

I had to move. No matter how much it hurt, I had to move.

I rolled onto my right shoulder, my head spinning again. I groaned and blinked with hopes of clearing my vision. Shouts and gunshots became crystal clear as they cut through the angry hammering in my skull. I thought I heard Sawyer shouting aggressively at Sonya. I lifted my head to see what he was doing to her. If he hurt her now, I was going to kill him, sympathetic heart be damned. 

All I saw was Sawyer standing beside me, firing his flintlock over my head with fierce determination in his eyes. I caught a glimpse of Sonya’s fleeing form as she weaved around the corner of a gouged building. I tried to get up, fighting to ignore the overwhelming agony as it shuddered through my chest.

Sonya might escape the Stray Dogs, but where was she going to go? Could she remember her way around Westraven? Worst of all, what about the Hellions? If they saw her–

My thoughts were cut off when Sawyer’s hand snared my bad arm and jerked me to my feet. Agony ripped through my chest, nearly blinding me. If I weren’t in so much pain, I would have punched a hole through his head.

Wounded as I was, I had little control over my actions. All I could do was let Sawyer drag me away from the Barren and hope he wouldn’t get me killed. 

Bullets continued to snap and ricochet in the dirt and stones around us. Sawyer refused to slow down, and I didn’t tell him to. He finally swung us around a shambled building, opposite from where Sonya had run. We pressed our backs to the hard, tarnished stone, both breathing heavily. I pressed a flat hand on my bleeding chest, wincing as I applied pressure to the wound. I was lucky not to have been shot dead instantly, but I was far from all right.

Clicks and rattles sounded from Sawyer’s flintlock. He quickly dumped the empty bullets out of his gun and replaced them with new ones. His flintlock was reloaded in seconds. He walked around me to the corner, peering carefully around the edge. I raised my head. The Hellion skiffs were hovering over the clustered buildings a hundred feet away. They started to descend. Waves of panic strained my already injured chest. They were close. Much too close.

How were they out in daylight?

“Damn,” Sawyer whispered. He tucked his head into cover and looked at me. “Come on.”

Without another word, Sawyer turned in front of me and sprinted deeper into the city.

Closer to the Hellions.

My mind was pulled in a thousand different directions. Run with Sawyer. Find Sonya. Hide from the Hellions. Watch for the Stray Dogs. Lie down and possibly die.

I threw away that last one. It wasn’t an option, no matter how much my body was begging. I was out. I was steadily bleeding to death, but I was out.

I just wished I knew what Sawyer was thinking.

At last, he skidded to a stop and lurched through the blown out door of a shoemaker’s shop. Smells of dust and neglect permeated from the dried out brocade wallpaper and seemed to gloss over the foggy windows.

We crouched away from the windows, our backs pressing against the wall. Sawyer peeked outside of the door with flintlock raised. After a quiet moment, Sawyer retreated back into the shop.

“I can’t see the other Dogs,” Sawyer said, “but it looks like your pals Stanner and Dylan are eager to get some blood.”

I groaned and clutched my chest. “Seems they already got some.” I closed my eyes and sighed.

A sharp kick to my foot forced my eyes open. Sawyer’s hard look matched mine. 

“Don’t even think it,” he warned sharply. “You just got out, you’re not going to roll over and die now.”

I glared. “Roll over? No. Die? Probably, since you were the one who decided to run into the city where the Hellions are landing.”

Sawyer frowned. “You ever consider that this is my plan?”

I grimaced. “Avoid danger by running into more danger?”

His frown became a grin. “I call it setting a trap.”

I blinked, not sure where the marauder was going with this. Not sure I wanted to know. 

Sawyer’s grin faded into a wary frown. “Think you can trust me for fifteen minutes?”

A more dangerous question couldn’t be asked. If I weren’t becoming totally senseless thanks to the pain, I would probably have given another, smarter answer.

Instead, I nodded.

Sawyer nodded back, seeming oddly relieved. He turned to glance out the door of the shop again. I could hear nothing in the desolate street, and the emptiness made my pulse thud. When Sawyer turned back, his eyes were as hard as the brass knuckles lining my fingers. 

“You might have to fight,” he told me. “But you watch my back, and I’ll watch yours.” He pierced me with his gaze until I nodded again. 

He slid up the side of the wall, dried wallpaper flaking off and fluttering down behind him. Sawyer held out his hand to my good arm. I took it and let him pull me to my feet. He let go of my hand and filled it with his sword. I couldn’t see a trace of fear in his blazing golden eyes.

“Stay right on my heels.”

Without a further word of warning, Sawyer whipped out of the shop and sped into the street. I lumbered after him clumsily. My rapid pulse pushed more blood out of the bullet wound. My dark blue work shirt stuck to my skin. Every part of my body screamed for me to stop. That I was pushing myself too hard. That I couldn’t take any more pain. That if I kept running, I would drop dead.

It said this to me every time I was in the Crater, every time my enemy had me pinned to the wall, throwing fists and feet, elbows and knees into my body until I was sure my bones would splinter and break into dust.

I told this voice now what I told it every time it thought this was the end, that I entered the one fight I couldn’t win, that I was facing the end of everything I wanted, and hoped to find.

I’m still standing. I’m still breathing. I’m still winning.

I might not have matched Sawyer’s speed, but I was close behind him. He seemed to have a good idea where he was going. I wondered how long he’d been running on the streets, how much ground he covered when the world settled into its new, desolate landscape. I wondered why he stayed at all. 

More than that, I wondered why he was making so much damn noise. He seemed to be deliberately kicking loose debris, scooping up rocks and hurling them at cracked shop windows, alerting our location to Stanner and Dylan, and the Hellions. He told me to be ready for a fight, and to trust him. Fighting I could handle. My left shoulder and chest were in agony, but I had fought through serious pain before. One of the fights ended with me being stabbed once. I fought through that, and lived to see the Stray Dog that jabbed me ripped apart by Hellions three weeks later.

This pain was nothing like that– this was so much stronger– but I could battle through it. 

Screeches and raspy howls carried in the windless air, as though the ghosts of the dead city had risen and begun to scream again. Behind me, I heard Stanner’s aggressive shout, saying that we were close. They had to be right behind us. Sawyer’s constant dodging and weaving were the only reasons why they hadn’t stopped to shoot us in the back.

It took every ounce of willpower not to turn and run the other way. It wasn’t just the pain in my chest that made me continue to lumber after the quick, reckless pirate. Something made me trust Sawyer. I couldn’t describe it, but I knew he had a plan. I would follow it. At this point, I didn’t have a choice. 

The tortured screams came again, like a dying bird of prey. My heart skipped a beat at the sound. I knew it was the cry of a Hellion, but something about it sounded different. Almost like it was being smothered by something. Even Sawyer jumped at the noise. He recovered his balanced and bolted around a left corner. I followed.

And jerked to a halt when we reached a dead end. 

Sawyer looked up at the pile of rubble confronting us. It had to be at least ten feet tall. We could climb it, but not nearly fast enough. Sawyer spun around, tawny eyes shooting over my shoulder and locking onto our enemies. He drew his cutlass and raised it high. I backed up until I was by his side. I lowered my hand from the gunshot wound, felt fresh blood gush out freely, and raised my knuckles. The brass from the weapons was sticky but slick, my fingers greased with blood. 

“Run when I tell you,” was all Sawyer had a chance to mutter to me before Stanner and Dylan rounded the building and cornered us. 

Dylan looked untouched, but Stanner had a nasty bruise swelling on his left cheek. I didn’t feel guilty about putting it there. If anything, seeing it made me smile.

Stanner’s dark eyes burst with rage. He actually growled at me, looking just like the feral dog snarling from the tattoo on his right arm. 

“You got nowhere to run, traitor,” Stanner spat. He tossed aside the pistol, withdrew a knife, and took a step closer to me. His gaze cut to Sawyer. “Neither of you. I’m going to take you apart piece by damn piece.”

My ally glanced at the weapon. “You’re really going to wish you held onto that.”

“Why?” Dylan’s thumb lifted the hem of his stained brown work shirt, his hand settling on his flintlock pistol. A cruel grin split across his face, revealing ugly, rotting teeth. “There’s nothing you can do to us. Nash is bleeding like a stuck pig. No one will help you when you scream.”

Shadows moved behind Stanner and Dylan. When I narrowed my eyes, the Stray Dog bruisers probably thought I was in pain. When I widened them, they probably thought I was afraid.

I watched the shadows stalk closer, moving with a graceful, inhuman gait. 

“It’s not us who’ll be screaming,” Sawyer said coldly.

It all happened so fast. Dylan and Stanner never heard or sensed them coming.

A sharp needle plunged through Dylan’s neck, the tip sticking out from under his Adam’s apple like a thorn. Blood squirted from the wound. Dylan’s eyes widened with shock and pain. Leather gloves curled around his shoulders and dug into them. The needlepoint retracted back and… I heard a thick, guzzling sound.

My stomach heaved. The Hellion was using the needle to suck the blood out of Dylan. 

We all stood there and stared, as shocked and as horrified as the rapidly paling marauder. Stanner gaped and backed away. He didn’t notice the second Hellion until it rammed into him.

The monster drove Stanner to the ground, gripping his throat with its hands. Stanner coughed his screams, batting uselessly at the Hellion’s clothed body.

They were wearing black jumpsuits with blood red buttons running up the left side of the jacket. Their boots looked heavy enough to crush skulls. Leather gloves shielded their hands. Protecting their heads were round, oil black helmets with two bulbous, black glass eyes fixed to the smooth surface. 

But the most terrifying part of the mask was the four- inch needle protruding from the mouthpiece. It was like a hornet’s stinger, viciously sharp and capable of causing excruciating damage and pain if it struck its target. With the victim so close, there was no way the Hellion could miss. 

Dylan was white as a sheet. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. Fresh blood trickled out from the hole in his neck. On the ground, Stanner’s face began to turn blue. The Hellion pinning him suddenly lunged down. The needle plunged into the man’s cheek. Stanner’s eyes bulged, and the hands around his neck constricted. He kicked his feet and pushed weakly against the Hellion. 

I was frozen with fear, not only because of what I was seeing, but because I could hear nothing. Two horrendous murders, and the only sounds were quiet choked gurgles and strangled screams. This nightmare seared itself in my brain in seconds. 

I jumped when Sawyer nudged my arm. “Run, before more show up.” 

That was all the warning he gave. In the next moment Sawyer was running from the bloodbath. Past the feeding Hellions, and back into the city. I didn’t hesitate in following him.

Like Sawyer, I went around the two monsters as they killed two of my crew mates. I couldn’t call them friends or allies. Not even rivals, given how many times they attacked me and sought my death. But I wouldn’t have wished this horror on anyone, no matter what his or her grudges or crimes were. Some fates were just too awful to witness and endure.

I had no illusions about what the Hellions were. There was nothing human in them. Nothing remotely close. They had two arms and two legs, but they were bigger. Faster. Stronger. Capable of more carnage than Davin Kendric on his bloodiest day. 

Now that they found a way to guard themselves from the sun, their raids would occur whenever they hungered for blood. No time of day would be safe. No survivors would be safe.

The Hellions weren’t through with us yet. No matter how much we had suffered and lost, they would see to it that we suffered and lost more. We were nothing but food to them, only here to be devoured whenever their bellies felt empty, or they decided they were bored. 

I pumped my legs as fast as I could. Pain seemed to be coming from every inch of my body. Sawyer’s fleeing shape blurred in front of me. Nausea rolled in my stomach. 

Keep going don’t stop don’t slow down keep moving you have to keep moving–

Grating screams erupted behind me. The Hellions were done with their feast, and looking for the next course. 

Fear of being stabbed, drained, and murdered motivated me, but my body was giving up on me. I was burning out, no matter how strong I told myself was. It didn’t matter if I forced myself. I would collapse, and soon.

But before that, the Hellions would grab me. I could hear their heavy boots pummelling the pavement, smell the fresh coppery blood on their clothes. Angry snarls and growls were distorted and metallic behind their masks. 

Rough leather fingers swiped against my back in a clawing motion. They nearly snagged in my shirt. I had seconds left. 

In that moment, I knew I was going to die. The Hellions had smelled the blood from my wound when I rushed past them. They couldn’t let it go to waste. 

My chance at a fresh start was lost. The only thing I could do now was go down swinging.

And give the Hellions a little hell of their own.