by Shade Owens
“Brone!” Fisher hissed, but I didn’t give her the time to dissuade me from continuing my plan.
“Go help Rocket and the others,” I said. “Anyone who isn’t holding a weapon needs to get out of the Village. Get Ellie out, too.”
“But—” Fisher tried.
“That’s an order!” I shouted, saliva sprinkling onto her face.
With slanted brows, she nodded, though it was obvious that leaving my side was as difficult for her as it was for me.
The second she swung around, however, Rocket came running toward us with huge eyes taking up a good portion of her face.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
She leaned forward, resting her hands onto her knees, her cheeks rosy and her chest glistening with sweat.
“This… This is really bad,” she said.
“What is?” I said.
With SkullCrusher heading my way, the last thing I had was time, so whatever was going on, I needed to know now.
“The… the back gate,” she said. “The other guy’s there.”
My eyes shot up toward the back gate, where women now ran inside the Village, rather than out.
“He was hiding outside, waiting for us,” she said.
“So fucking kill him!” I snapped.
“I tried,” Rocket said. “My arrow bounced right off the guy.”
Clenching my jaw, I stared at the man—Black Panther—as he entered the Village with what appeared to be two bloody Samurai swords held in his hands. His body, similar to SkullCrusher, was covered from head to toe in some strange fabric that seemed to change colors as he moved. Whatever it was, it was impenetrable. These sick bastards had thought everything through. Over his face were strange-looking goggles. At first, I’d have assumed they were night vision goggles, but it was broad daylight, which led me to believe they were an advanced piece of equipment—sensors maybe—to warn of potential attacks.
His suit flickered several times, and the next thing I knew, I couldn’t see him anymore, or his swords. It was almost as if he’d gone invisible. Had he blended so well with his surroundings that it was impossible to see him? Were his swords also able to camouflage?
“Yeah, and there’s that,” Rocket said.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I said.
I parted my lips, prepared to tell Rocket to go search Player 1’s bag for any other weapon we might be able to use, but I didn’t have the time.
The next thing I knew, the earth under my feet rumbled, and I glanced up to find SkullCrusher charging straight for me.
CHAPTER 12
At first, I thought maybe I was hallucinating.
Were there two SkullCrushers? With my arrow aimed straight in front of me, I blinked once, then twice, trying to understand what was going on.
Behind SkullCrusher, charging at twice the speed, was another figure covered from head to toe in medieval-looking armor. The armor looked familiar, too, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
He raised what appeared to be a metal battle-ax with a wooden handle and ran even faster, his slits for eyes aimed at the back of SkullCrusher.
When I saw Hammer pumping her fists behind the second armored man, I realized what was going on—this man was no stranger; it was Eliot wearing his dead brother’s armor. Hammer must have collected it and stored it after the war.
Eliot was gaining speed over SkullCrusher, but SkullCrusher was getting too close. Realizing Eliot might not make it in time, I stumbled backward, tugged my arrow back, and shot my attacker in the shoulder, hoping to slow him down.
But it accomplished nothing. If anything, it aggravated him more.
SkullCrusher, who was now yelling at the top of his lungs, must not have heard his attacker coming from behind.
Eliot might have been half SkullCrusher’s size, but he moved with such force and stamina that for a second, I imagined this battle ending in our favor.
Would he make it to our enemy in time? Did he have the strength to slice his weapon through SkullCrusher’s armor?
I was running out of time.
I stepped backward and shot another arrow, hoping to slow him down, but my foot landed on a piece of wood and my shot missed.
Eliot wouldn’t make it in time.
I clenched my fists, preparing myself to be sliced in half, when a spear came twirling through the air, followed by another, and another.
Several meters away, to the side of my opponent, were Hammer, Quinn, and Bushtail, a woman who spent most of her days sewing clothing for the children. Not once would I have ever imagined her a fighter, yet there she was, her features twisted and muscles popping from her frail arms.
At their feet were piles of spears, and behind them, a fast-growing crowd. One by one, women picked up anything they could and threw it into the wind. While only a few of the weapons managed to hit SkullCrusher, their effort to defend me gave me hope.
Dropping my bow, I tore my sword out from its sheath.
Maybe I was out of time, but I wasn’t going out without a fight.
Gripping my sword’s handle as tight as I could, I bent my knees and held my breath as SkullCrusher’s raised his hammer over his head. He was so heavy that his stomping caused my legs to tremble. With another loud shout, he swung his heavy weapon sideways, its massive head slicing through the air horizontally.
It came at me so fast all I could do was drop to my knees. A gust of wind swept my hair atop my head as his hammer tore through the cabin behind me. Wood cracked and snapped, and broken pieces landed on my neck and shoulders. I raised my arm in time to block a heavy plank from crashing onto my head.
Why wasn’t SkullCrusher swinging at me again?
I glanced toward him yet realized his hammer was stuck in the cabin’s wood. He yanked backward, trying to free it, and more wood snapped—so much so that the cabin’s entire right side started to collapse.
This was it. I had to make a move.
The handle of his hammer caught my attention. Was it made of wood? If I managed to slice my sword through it, he’d be at a disadvantage. Gripping my sword’s handle with two hands, I stood up, but as I did, the handle of his hammer glistened in the sun like the hood of a car on a hot summer day.
It wasn’t made of wood at all. If I tried to cut through it, I’d damage my sword or injure myself.
SkullCrusher let out a throaty growl and tugged hard one last time. This time, his hammer came out, as did two solid beams of wood. I snatched my bow from the ground and rolled away as the cabin collapsed into pieces.
But the moment I landed on my back, SkullCrusher appeared at my feet, his weapon held in both hands. He stared down at me, his helmet blindingly bright, and with another loud grunt, raised the hammer up over his head.
I wanted to roll sideways the way actors did in the movies—one quick roll to dodge the lethal blow—but everything happened so fast. As his hammer came down toward my chest, I closed my eyes as hard as I could.
I felt my stomach crush flat as a loud crashing sound exploded all around me. The pain was so intense that I stopped breathing.
But then, I sucked in a gasp.
Wasn’t I dead? Why was I still breathing? Cracking open one eye, I glanced down at my belly, afraid to see my intestines surrounded by rib fragments.
How was this even possible?
I was uninjured. I touched my belly, my arms, my face. I wasn’t a ghost; I was very much alive.
Had my brain been so convinced of my death that it had made up the pain?
I flinched when wood came hurling my way, almost knocking me out cold. That’s when I noticed that Eliot and SkullCrusher were in the pile of wood and debris kicking and punching each other. Eliot had somehow landed on top of his opponent, his metal armor deforming against SkullCrusher’s pointed spikes.
How solid was Eliot’s armor? Would his enemy’s spikes puncture him?
Grunting, Eliot grabbed SkullCrusher’s helmet by two large spikes and pulled upward. The helmet came
flying off, revealing a man with dark skin, a short unkempt beard, glossy black eyes, and so many bright pink scars across his face that I found myself thinking of Zsasz. He grimaced up at Eliot, his teeth covered in blood, and swung a metal fist so hard against the side of Eliot’s head that he threw Eliot right off him.
He landed hard on his back, his helmet halfway up his face. On his chest and thigh plates were small puncture holes with droplets of blood coating its edges.
Shit.
SkullCrusher’s armor had, in fact, hurt Eliot.
As SkullCrusher climbed back to his feet, Eliot repositioned his helmet and quickly crawled backward in a desperate attempt to get away.
This was it.
A clear shot.
I ran on my hands and knees through the grass to find my bow, but the second I swung around with a loaded arrow, SkullCrusher was standing in front of Eliot with his helmet back on and his war hammer in his hands.
He raised it over his head, and although I couldn’t see his face anymore, all I could picture was a sadistic smile on his lips.
“No!” I shouted.
CHAPTER 13
Her shouting was enough to make SkullCrusher turn his head sideways.
Out from in between two tents came Zelda with the heavy electrical box held in one hand, and two unevenly cut wires in the other. She ran hard and in an awkward fashion, her bare feet stomping through the Village. Her mouth, a wide-open black hole, let out a cry so loud it masked the sound of women screaming at the other end of the Village.
What the hell was she doing?
She was running straight for SkullCrusher.
At once, he swung around, prepared to pummel her with his hammer, but he didn’t even have the time to swing it. So instead, he jabbed its head toward her chest—a blow powerful enough to break her bones. But as the hammer’s head came straight for her, she smiled, refusing to back down or attempt to dodge his attack.
With a scowl on her face, she held both wires up, their tips pointed at the head of SkullCrusher’s oncoming hammer. It all happened so fast that I had almost no time to understand what was going on. In seconds, bright blue light exploded between the two of them, and both bodies were propelled into the air in opposite directions.
Zelda landed with a thump on the grass, her body scorched and the damaged wires gripped in her fist. When it was SkullCrusher’s turn to hit the ground, it sounded like loose change being dumped into a bucket. The pieces of his armor clanged against each other—not only upon impact, but also for a few seconds after his fall as his body convulsed.
“Holy shit—” someone said beside me.
I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. He wasn’t moving, and out from in between the cracks of his armor came light gray smoke, licking every edge.
Eliot got up with a grumble, picked up his fallen ax, and charged toward SkullCrusher, no doubt wanting to ensure the job was done.
“Eliot!” I shouted.
The sound of my voice was enough to stop him midrun. He turned around, his plated shoulders bouncing up and down with every heavy breath.
“Don’t touch him,” I said. “It could kill you.”
He looked confused. Eliot didn’t understand electricity despite Proxy’s attempt to explain it to him. How could he? He’d been raised on the island. Electricity was difficult enough to understand as someone who used to use it daily. I couldn’t expect Eliot to grasp the concept.
Although he didn’t know why touching SkullCrusher might kill him, he trusted me enough to lower his weapon and take a step back. His gaze, however, didn’t leave SkullCrusher. He hovered near him, prepared to strike if necessary.
“Trust me,” I said, “that killed him.”
Eliot nodded but didn’t budge.
A few other women gathered, their curious eyes darting between SkullCrusher’s motionless body and Zelda, who lay dead in the grass, her hollow gaze fixated onto nothingness.
How had she gotten the power back up and running? It didn’t matter. She’d sacrificed herself to save us all. I bowed my head as a way of showing respect, and everyone followed, some even lowering themselves onto their knees for her.
But our moment of silence didn’t last long. A scream spread across the Village, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps and weapons clanging.
Black Panther.
Had Rocket not taken care of him? How was he still alive, while SkullCrusher was dead?
With my bow still in hand, I charged toward the back of the Village. Women ran in random directions, looking more confused than anything. Was this because of his camouflaging technology?
Out of nowhere, one woman’s throat split open and she reached for it, blood spitting out over her knuckles. She fell to her knees as several other women shrieked, weapons held up by their faces.
The guy was almost invisible. How the fuck were we supposed to defeat him? Every few seconds, I saw a blur—something that looked off—but I couldn’t pinpoint his location. Some women even dropped their weapons and ran away, maybe realizing they didn’t stand a chance against someone like him.
Now that SkullCrusher was out of the way, we had one threat remaining. If I could eliminate him, there was no need to run away.
I aimed my arrow’s point in his general direction. Maybe he’d reappear, even if only for a second. At the same time, the sound of a gun being cocked came from beside me.
Flinching, I turned toward it.
“Let’s kill this son of a bitch,” Coin said, a crooked smirk pulling at the corner of her lip.
“Coin!” I said.
Her leg was wrapped up in a bloody bandage, but she was standing on it. It was obvious the weight of her body was causing her pain, but I knew Coin, and pain wouldn’t be enough to stop her from putting up a fight.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I think if we both start firing at the same time, we’ll have more odds of hitting him.”
“You better be one hell of a good shot,” I said, staring toward the few women still trying to swing their clubs and swords at their camouflaged enemy.
“I am,” she said.
Then, on my other side came Quinn’s voice. “Me too.”
I swung around to find her standing tall with our second rifle in her grasp.
“And if shit goes south,” came Rocket’s voice, “we always have plan B.”
“And plan C,” Hammer said.
Behind us, Biggie, Hammer, and Elektra stood with arms crossed over their chests. In front of them was Rocket with shoulders drawn back, speckles of blood across her cheeks, and two grenades in her fists. “Don’t forget plan D.”
“I thought—” I started.
“Don’t you know me by now?” she asked. “I’m fast. I got in the cabin and grabbed Player 1’s bag before the cabin came down.”
Throwing my chin out at the others, I said, “I’m assuming you guys are plan C?”
Hammer punched her palm. “Fuckin’ right.”
Smirking, I nodded. “All right, let’s do this.”
CHAPTER 14
Every time Quinn and Coin fired a shot, I flinched.
The sound was deafening. For the first time, I understood why people in movies wore earmuffs when target shooting.
Beside me, Elektra and Rocket held bows, loading them every time I loaded mine.
The approach was simple—two simultaneous gunshots followed by three arrows.
Surely, we’d hit him this way, right? Who could dodge five different simultaneous shots?
Bits and pieces of our wall’s wood shot up in fragments as bullets tore through it. While I hated the idea of damaging our wall, it was only material—it could be reconstructed. Right now, all that mattered was eliminating the enemy and securing my people.
The small crowd that had been swinging clubs and swords at their opponent dropped their weapons, covered their ears, and ran away from the fight.
As bullets flew, debris and dust created a translucent cloud.
Why weren’t we
hitting him? And why couldn’t I see any strange movement anymore?
“Stop,” I said, and everyone paused, weapons held up by their faces.
“I don’t think he’s there anymore,” I said.
Rocket glared down her arrow’s shaft. “Then where the hell is he?”
A shrill cry masked the sound of women panicking and made me swing my entire body in the opposite direction. Near the blasted Village gates was a woman with a huge puncture hole in her chest. She stared at me, almost pleadingly, and reached for the hole. She looked puzzled, as if trying to figure out what was going on. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. Instead, she dropped to her knees and life disappeared from her eyes.
No one even dared run toward her—instead, women ran wildly, reminding me of confused cattle in the midst of a coyote attack. They didn’t know where to go. How could they? They couldn’t even see our attacker.
Was this it? Was Black Panther going to be the one to massacre us all one by one?
I turned to my friends, not knowing what to do when the strangest sound caught my attention. At first, it sounded like a faint fluttering, but it grew louder and louder until at last, everyone stopped running as if forgetting we were under attack and aimed their eyes toward the sky.
My jaw hung loose as I stared up.
What the hell was that thing?
It was unlike anything I’d ever seen before.
Mighty gusts of winds blew downward as the flying vehicle’s multiple helicopter-like propellers spun over its body. The wind was so powerful that grass blades danced around our toes, and tree branches swayed.
I wasn’t certain who to fear anymore—Black Panther, or this giant aircraft.
It descended slowly, casting a looming shadow over us.
Too stunned and confused about what was going on, I couldn’t say anything. I flinched when two warm hands gripped my waist.
“Brone!”
The sound of Ellie’s voice calmed me. She squeezed my midsection and I placed a hand over hers.
“What is that?” she asked.
I shook my head to say, I have no idea.
