Two other Heavies lurked nearby, but then chased after a tank down the street. The creature had latched on to the leg that carried my switchblade, so I couldn’t grab it to defend myself.
I would be dinner. Bile flooded my mouth and my body tensed as adrenaline coursed through me. Fight or die.
The Heavy’s hulking body leaned over me. Another tentacle appeared and grabbed my right shoulder, hooking under my back. The alien lifted me into the air, then slammed my body onto the road. I cried out in pain as it smashed me again, knocking the wind out of me. Moaning, I lay crumpled, when a tentacle reached around my neck.
The thing released its hold on my ankle. Pulling up my legs, my fingertips grazed the switchblade, but the Heavy grabbed my thigh and pinned me down.
The grip on my neck tightened like a python’s vise. My hands grasped at my throat, clawing at the alien limb that choked me. Tears flooded my eyes while my lungs burned for air.
Spots formed at the edges of my vision. I was so tired; I wanted to stop fighting. Digging my nails into the fleshy tentacle, I could think of only one thing to do.
The creature loomed over me, its long, pointed tongue flicking in and out of its maw as it neared my face. I concentrated on my hands, willing the nano implants to do something, anything. An intense tingling traveled down my arms until my fingers burned.
The Heavy’s hold on my neck loosened. I gulped in air, greedy for oxygen.
A deep growling sound emerged from the creature’s throat as it pulled away, releasing me. The Heavy hissed and clutched its tentacle—the one I had touched. Had I hurt it?
I rolled forward onto my feet and grabbed the knife from my boot. Flicking the button to release the blade, I waved it. “I’ll kill you!” I shouted, in a raspy voice.
It growled and then looked past me.
Crack-crack-crack. Gunfire rang out, and I sank to the road instinctively, curling up in a fetal position.
The Heavy staggered back, shrieking. It grabbed for me, but another round of gunfire erupted behind me.
The creature crashed to the ground, shuddering; its tentacles flailed.
Perez edged over, her rifle trained on the alien. “Is the goddamn thing dead? I shot it in the head.”
I slowly rose and stood beside her.
Below, the Heavy writhed. Its purple flesh seemed to boil beneath the skin where it had been struck. The head turned black and stopped moving.
She spat on it and looked at me. “Not losing another medic on my watch. Get inside. We’ve been waiting.”
Inside the building, a thick dust hung in the air and coated the floors and walls. I smelled smoke and realized part of the orphanage must be on fire. Perez led as we climbed the stairs two at a time.
At the second floor landing, we stepped into a corridor. She readied her rifle, scanning for danger.
Down the hall, Farrelly signaled all clear and hastened us into a room, where a nun dressed in a black gown with a white head veil sat against a wall. In her lap, rested a girl who looked about fourteen years old. Blood soaked her left side. Farrelly kneeled beside her, pressing a bloody rag against her body.
My legs and hands shook at the sight of the injured girl.
The nun peered up at me and spoke in a foreign language.
Farrelly translated. “She wants to know if you can help.”
The soldier moved so I could inspect her wound. Shrapnel had torn her flesh ragged, and a piece of metal had lodged—a screw or nail. Her forehead was cold and clammy, her face pale from blood loss.
“Hello,” I said.
The girl’s eyelids fluttered, and she focused her gaze on me. A good sign.
“I’m Ida. I'm here to help you. Do you speak English?”
“Y-yes,” she managed.
“Good. What’s your name?”
“Hanna.” She tried to lift her head as if searching for someone. “Samuel?” Her eyes rolled back.
“Stay still.” I glanced at Farrelly with raised eyebrows, and the nun spoke to him.
“She has a younger brother,” he translated. “He's with the others.”
In an opposite corner, another nun huddled with five other children of various ages. From a distance, they looked uninjured. One child sat in a wheelchair.
“These goddamn animals,” Perez muttered under her breath, pacing the small classroom floor. “Farrelly and Doc, let’s get the hell out of here.”
“I need time to work on the girl,” I said.
“Forget it,” said Farrelly. “She’s a lost cause. Don’t hang back trying to save someone who’s hopeless. That’s how the last medic bit it.”
“Just a few minutes,” I begged. “I know I can help her.”
Farrelly glanced at Perez, spoke to the nun in Polish, and grabbed her arm to help her up.
Clattering sounded in the hallway, and a metal door slammed nearby.
“Take cover,” Perez said, as she aimed her rifle at the classroom entrance. Two Heavies rushed inside, ushering in a dank, metallic smell. Perez blasted them with bullets while Farrelly tried to block the children.
I shielded Hanna and the nun with my body. My heart raced, and I wished for my gun.
Perez took down one creature by aiming at its head. But the other hissed, and a tentacle reached for her, knocking her weapon away. It punched her through the throat; her legs flailed as it lifted her body off the ground, and blood poured across her fatigues. Then the Heavy tore her head from her shoulders.
Farrelly fired his rifle, cutting the alien across the neck and head. Purple brain matter splattered against a chalkboard.
The creature's body dropped to the floor with a thud.
Farrelly stared with his mouth open. The nun in the corner began to scream. He raced over and shouted at her in that strange language, but she kept shrieking until he clamped a hand over her mouth, murmuring foreign words.
I glanced at the doorway, wondering if another Heavy lurked nearby. Hanna, barely conscious, was running out of time. I moved my fingers over her wound when Farrelly came over, carrying a boy.
“Gunshot wound. Bullet must have ricocheted.” He set the boy down.
Hanna’s eyes widened, and she cried out. “Samuel!”
“Oh shit,” Farrelly said. “Her brother.”
The bullet had entered his chest near his heart. I checked his back for an exit wound, found it. Blood pooled underneath his unconscious body.
Hanna reached over and squeezed my hand. “Help him,” she pleaded.
I grabbed his wrist, waited for a pulse. Nothing. Was he killed instantly? I paused, wondering if I’d been mistaken.
And then—a faint pulse. A trickle of life.
A wave of relief flooded through me, but I would have to work fast.
Hanna’s eyelids flickered, but she fought to stay present. “Him first,” she begged.
Could I save them both? If I worked on Samuel, Hanna might die—she was barely hanging on and…
Samuel’s pulse faded; Hanna’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she fell unconscious.
“Do something!” Farrelly yelled.
I rested my palms on Hanna’s side, closed my eyes. “Watch the door,” I said to Farrelly. “Protect us.”
He headed to the door, and I went to work on Hanna’s wound. My arms tingled as the nanobots stirred within me, fusing the strength from my blood cells into hers. Repairing damaged tissue, prying the shrapnel loose. The miniature beads of light darted in and out and everywhere.
And I could see them—the tiny bots—spinning inside the girl’s body, synthesizing and restoring the destruction.
Minutes passed, and I pulled away. The color returned to Hanna’s face; her breathing steadied.
I went to Samuel and placed my fingers on the entry wound, but my hands stung. Recoiling, I stared at my palms, expecting to see burn marks, as if the boy’s skin had given me frostbite, as though death had repelled me. Grabbing for his wrist—I could touch that part of him—his pulse was gone.
A dreary emptiness penetrated my chest, and I wiped sweat from my eyes. “No, I’m sorry.”
A single tear ran down her dust-caked cheek.
I let Hanna grieve for a minute. A wave of dizziness pummeled me as I stood. Everyone else in the room had disappeared—Farrelly had ushered out the nuns and orphans. The classroom was oddly quiet as I stared at the dead Heavy, then at Perez’s lifeless body, her blood pooled across the black and white tiled floor. Gunfire in the distance sounded surreal, as if this was a bad dream.
Hanna sat up, and her eyes lingered over her brother's body. She mumbled to herself with closed eyes. A prayer in her native language.
My chest felt hollow. Why couldn’t I have saved them both? Had there been more time… If Samuel hadn't been shot before I healed Hanna?
The long window in the room shattered. I ducked and sheltered my face as Hanna collapsed onto Samuel’s body.
“We have to leave.” I grabbed her arm.
She looked up at me with watery red eyes. “But his body. I can't leave him. I want to stay and die… here, with him.”
My fists clenched. “You have to live.” I crouched down and met her gaze. “Or his death will have been for nothing.”
She stared at me, her mouth twisting into a quivering frown.
I stood and signaled Tyren on my comm. “Tyren, do you read? It's Sarek. I'm inside the orphanage. Do you copy?”
Walking to the hallway, I scanned it. No sign of Farrelly. He left us? Damn him. The hollow place in my chest caved in. I wanted to cry.
But Hanna. I had to help her. Who else did she have now? There could be Heavies nearby, waiting, stalking us.
I tried the comm again. “Tyren, do you copy? Sarek here, awaiting orders.”
Inside the room, Hanna stood, having said her last goodbye. Her once yellow tee-shirt had turned ragged and bloody from her wound.
The comm chirped with static. “Sarek, you there? Tyren here. Copy?”
“Yes. I’m here. Farrelly left us. Perez is… dead.” My throat tightened.
“You couldn’t save her?”
“No. I’m sorry. I had to save a girl.”
He paused. “You did your best. Listen, they took out the bridge. You can’t go back the way you came.”
I tensed, wishing I had time to tell him I’d been on the damn bridge when it had collapsed, but there would be time later. I hoped.
“Exit the building and head straight north on the boulevard. When you get far enough, we’ll be waiting with the cruiser.”
“How long do we have?” Next to me, Hanna’s eyes were wide, and she shivered uncontrollably.
“Five minutes. Then we have to take off. I'll try to delay long as I can, but… just get your ass out here. That’s an order,” he said.
“Copy. Over and out.” I turned to the grieving girl. “Hanna, I can get you out. But you have to be as quiet as possible and follow my every command. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes,” she whispered.
I squeezed her shoulders. “Be strong… for Samuel.”
Before we left, I took Perez’s rifle. For a moment, I considered taking the med unit bag, but it would slow us down.
After checking the hallway, I led the way north, banking on the hope there would be another stairwell on the opposite side of the corridor. There was, and we reached it, but I made Hanna wait while I checked for Heavies. Grabbing her hand, I guided her to the first floor.
By now, her body quaked with shivers. In shock. Not a good sign. She needed a proper hospital.
At the bottom of the stairs, we found a set of double doors, but heavy chains secured them. I fiddled with the lock, but it wouldn’t give way. I told Hanna to face away and cover her ears as I shot out the glass, kicking out several large pieces with my boot.
Hanna and I edged around the perimeter of the building. I stayed in front to make sure our path was clear. No sign of Heavies—or soldiers. My biocuff confirmed we were heading north. Nearly two minutes had passed since I’d messaged Tyren; I set a timer for another three.
Then we reached a wide street. To the south, gunfire and explosions tore through the rain-soaked city. I glanced back and saw more pods descending.
The avenue looked clear, and we sprinted across, sheltering against the side of a store.
Stopping for a moment, I checked Hanna. “Are you doing okay?”
Her teeth chattered and she trembled. She tried to speak but slurred her words.
“We're almost there.”
She nodded. God, I hoped that cruiser waited for us.
We passed the store and neared a cafe. A small alleyway led to another street.
As we sprinted through the alley, I halted in front of a pile of ten bodies. My eyes practically bulged out as I searched the pile for the nun’s white and black clothing—for the children. I gagged, despite my relief that the dead were adults.
I poked my head out to survey the boulevard and glimpsed two Heavies approaching. I backed up quickly, my heart leaping into my throat.
No time to think. The creatures were nearly in view—would see us at any moment—and I jumped onto the bodies and pulled Hanna down with me. “Pretend we’re dead,” I whispered.
But she shook so violently—worse now that we were lying on top of rotting flesh. The Heavies, less than ten seconds away, would notice us for sure.
I shifted to wrap my arm and cradle her, resting a palm on her chest. Closing my eyes, I focused the nanos to send a message: Be still. My arms tingled, and the tech swarmed down my fingertips and into Hanna. Beads of light gathered and soothed her. Her shakes calmed.
Motionless, I held my breath and hers somehow.
The Heavies approached, their dense legs stomping against the asphalt road.
Please let them pass.
Their footsteps were steady, rhythmic, until one halted. Its companion stopped too. They were close. Too close. This is it. We’re dead.
Then, suddenly, the pile of bodies moved.
I sent a thought into Hanna, Stay perfectly still.
Something was happening, but I didn’t know what it meant. Squinting my eyes, I saw a tentacle perusing the nearby bodies. One of the Heavies wrapped a fleshy limb around a leg. The creature dragged a dead man out, upsetting the pile. Another body rolled on top of me and Hanna. The odor of rotting flesh invaded my nose and mouth, and I nearly wretched.
The stomping started again, followed by a scraping noise. When the sound of their steps faded, I peeked and saw them dragging away a man's body. They rounded the corner onto another street.
I shifted and pushed a body off us, then helped Hanna up. She looked dazed, but her shock symptoms had faded.
“Let's go,” I said, and we ran into the opposite alley, continuing north.
We passed two more streets that were incredibly—unbelievably—empty.
Rounding a corner, I saw the cruiser waiting in a public park among a copse of trees.
“Almost there. Run fast,” I dragged Hanna along.
We sprinted, and I didn’t dare look behind, afraid to see Heavies storming after us, reaching with their long tentacles.
The landing door slid open, and Tyren leaned forward, arms outstretched, and he pulled us inside.
We had made it in time.
The cruiser lifted off, and as it soared, I stared down at the burning city and said a prayer for the dead.
One week later
An old ballad from the 1950s hummed on an antique record player behind the dimly lit bar. Strings of miniature red and green and blue lights lined the edges of the ceiling and hung lazily across the walls. The decorations made the soldiers believe they were somewhere else, away from a war zone. For the night, at least.
I took a seat on an empty stool, ready to celebrate my eighteenth birthday. Alone.
The way I liked it.
Back before everything had happened—before the Heavies had changed the world foreve
r—eighteen had been too young to drink in New York. But the rules were different in Germany. Anyway, no one cared much about the old rules.
After a few nights out, I’d grown to like the taste of whiskey. Jorge, the bartender, came over. “The usual?” I nodded, and he served it in a glass with two ice cubes.
Raising the cup to my nose, I inhaled the scent. Musty. Deep. Something about the odor fascinated me. I took a sip, savoring the numbing sensation that moved along my lips and teased my tongue.
Jorge’s was becoming my new spot. I’d spent the last four nights here. I drank enough to feel numb, but not get drunk.
Just enough to forget about what had happened in the orphanage. My first taste of war. I had the power to save lives—more than any medic or doctor I had seen in the hospital.
But I couldn’t save them all. I felt like a failure.
After that first day in Tyren’s squad, so many had died—Perez, Samuel, the pile of dead bodies.
I inhaled, taking a breath and fighting back tears as I thought about Hanna’s face when she’d learned her brother was dead.
Someone pulled out the stool next to me, yanking me from my thoughts.
“Is this seat open?”
I checked my momentary surprise and shrugged.
Tyren took a seat and ordered a Manhattan. I’d have to try that next time.
He stared straight ahead. “I noticed you haven't been hanging out in the rec room with the other troops during evening free time.”
“I like it here.”
“You've been quiet.” He arched one eyebrow. “More than usual.”
I shifted in my seat and sipped my drink.
“What's eating at you?” he asked.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. There was so much I could say, but would he understand? “I’m a medic, and I couldn't save…” I choked, unable to finish without sobbing.
“I never said war was easy. You can't save everyone.”
“Maybe if Perez hadn't let the Heavies in the room. If she had barricaded the door—”
Altered: A Dystopian Sci-Fi Adventure (Rogue Spark Book 1) Page 10
