Dying Breath

by Kory M. Shrum

  I let go of the handle and the door swings shut on its hinges.

  Sweat slides down the back of my neck and the overwhelming heat of the enclosed cab rushes in on me again. I’ve got to get this door open, or Sam’s dad is going to bake to death.

  I don’t see anyone in the street, hovering near charred buildings, or lingering on the sidewalk in front of the store and hotel. The townies must take their orders seriously, staying inside like they were told to do.

  I throw open the door and jump down. Cool air rushes over my skin, and I suck in a deep breath. Relief washes over my skin and face. I swallow and realize how incredibly thirsty I am. I could use that soda Sam promised me. I could use ten of them.

  Trying not to run and look guilty, I walk away from the ambulance toward the narrow alleyway where Sam and I were. I keep my head down and act like I’ve got somewhere to be. I count my steps, fifteen, seventeen. I’m going to make it. I’m about to step into the alley, when a hand clamps down hard on my shoulder, spinning me around so fast I lose my balance.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” the man demands, and refuses to let me go.

  Chapter 16

  Jesse

  She is not in danger, Gabriel assures me as I stand there, torn between chasing after Maisie and tracking Georgia.

  As soon as I’d felt Maisie’s fear, I’d stopped dead in my tracks, giving Georgia a greater lead.

  She is safe, Gabriel says again. He wants me to forget about Maisie and chase Georgia. Is she really safe? Or is he lying to me because we’re so close? Because so much is hanging in the balance and if I don’t find Caldwell before he reboots, the danger is to us all.

  “You better not be lying,” I warn him, and bolt after Georgia. The muscles around my tailbone ache. My thighs burn. I make it all the way down a tight alley and don’t see her. Then as I burst from behind Kenny’s Pizzas and Pies, I saw the blond ponytail bobbing.

  Gee-zus, she’s booking it.

  I skid through the dirt, heading in the opposite direction. I’m moving so fast I lose my balance and stumble against the house. It stops my momentum, and I’m able to correct course.

  The stench of trash rises from hot cans. I weave around them the best I can, keeping my eyes on Georgia. But she’s obviously the more athletic of the two of us. She keeps getting smaller and smaller as I dodge bicycles and flower pots and more parked cars. A bunch of urban crap crammed in these pseudo walkways between houses.

  Then she cuts another corner and disappears. Oh, come on.

  A cramp in my left side begins to form between my ribs. Every breath is sharp. I become aware of how much of a mouth breather I am as my wheezing intensifies.

  I burst out of the alley.

  I don’t see Georgia.

  “Where. Did. She. Go?” I ask between breaths. Gabriel’s right beside me, looking collected and calm. Yeah, well, we can’t all just float around like pretty princesses in our expensive suits now, can we?

  “There.” His wings twitch. I follow his finger over the shiny hoods of cars lining the street.

  There’s another narrow space between houses.

  I groan and start running again. As I cross the street, Gabriel yells, “Shield!”

  I throw it up the same instant a bullet flies past my head, and hits the house in front of me. Splinters fly off the building. Debris hits the shield, sizzling.

  My shoulders hunch instinctively as my head tucks, and I whirl to see cops behind me.

  “Not now, boys,” I say. “I’m busy. Come back later.”

  I lift my left hand and throw a fire bomb at one of the cars in the street. A white hatchback lifts off the ground in a ball of flames. The cops fall back, hitting the dirt and covering their heads. Before they get up, I’m gone.

  I follow the passageways Gabriel points out one after another until the rows of tightly knit houses end. I step into a wide-open street with only a vast desert stretching across the other side. To the right, a playground belonging to a one-story school sits. Bright plastic tubes and ladders and rope swings stand unused in the hot sun. What child is going to use the swing when the rubber seat will surely burn his ass off?

  To the left, two homes sit far apart from one another. Both are one-story ranch houses with fences and modest yards.

  Apart from the one flowering cactus by the three-way stop across the street, lumpy grass and gravel seem to be the extent of the landscaping out here.

  My shield crackles and I whirl. Surprise, surprise. Here’s Georgia trying to kill me with her death ribbon dancing. Again.

  “You know.” I groan, but it doesn’t sound like a groan. I’m panting. My face is hot and sweaty. Beautiful. I’m sure I’m pulling off the unconquerable badass look right now. Dry heaves and all. “I promised Maisie I wouldn’t murder you outright, but if you keep ninja attacking me, I’ll have every excuse to destroy you.”

  “You think self-defense is going to make her feel better about the murder of her mother?”

  Good point.

  Yet, she seems to have no interest in self-preservation. Her ribbons strike me again and I welcome it. I start walking toward her, hand on my cramping side. “Stop that!”

  She strikes one more time, backing away. I hate the hiss and pop of it, like grease in a too-hot pan. It’s a sound to put your teeth on edge. I cross the street after her. She backs away but keeps striking.

  “Stop being such a twat!” I throw sparks on the leg of her pants like I did to the cops earlier.

  She does stop then. It’s funny how setting someone on fire does that. She growls, swatting at her legs.

  Then I’m on her, pinning her back to the fence. I can’t touch her. Well, I can, if I open my shield, but that’s sort of like sticking my hand into a basket of pissed off snakes.

  Instead, I position myself over her legs, knowing my shield will trap her from the knees down.

  “Get off me!” she screams. “Get off me this instant!”

  “Uh, no.” I’m kind of surprised she thought such a command would work. Even the people I love and respect have a hard time getting obedience out of me. A command from Georgia will get a snort at best.

  She starts to scream.

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea,” I mock her. “Get the cops over here so they can arrest you. Worst Mother of the Year here folks.”

  “They won’t arrest me!” She squirms. Geez. It’s like trying to sit on a mound of baby pandas without any of the cute. “I’m the victim. I’m the distraught mother who had her child taken.”

  “Yeah, Caldwell might have been able to sell that story, but I doubt you’re as good at the mindfuckery.”

  She finally stills.

  “That’s what I thought.” I lift some of my weight off her body, but I don’t give her enough room to get up. “Listen, for the sake of time, let’s be honest here.”

  She glowers at me. If her big blue eyes, the exact replica of Maisie’s, could shoot their own firebombs, I’m sure my face would be so melty right now.

  No, not the exact replica of Maisie’s. Maisie’s eyes are full of kindness and empathy. In sad movies, she’s the first to cry when the actor does. In Georgia’s eyes, I see only calculation. Strategy. She measures me, looking for the best place to sink the dagger even as I try to work in her favor.

  A spike of fear coils my guts. I try to push Maisie’s feelings away again, but I’m silently begging Gabriel for reassurances that she’s okay.

  She is not in danger. Finish what you started.

  I could argue that I didn’t start any of this. Caldwell did. But okay, I can be the closer.

  “I’m going to kill him, Georgia. There’s not a person in the whole world that’s going to stop me. I’ll do it today. Or tomorrow. Or next week. Whatever it takes. But it’s happening. Caldwell is dead.”

  She snarls. “I won’t let you.”

  “For the sake of argument let’s pretend it’s a done deal. Are you ready to give up on Maisie too?”

  “Ma
isie’s a child!”

  “She’s sixteen! Last I checked, she’s old enough to drive.” Not that anyone in this family has taken the time to show her how to use a car. Or keep her in school. Or teach her the basics of self-sufficiency. Hell, we’re all failing Maisie in about a thousand ways.

  “You’re her mother.” I try to keep my temper in check. But the longer I look at this crazy sociopath, the more I want to slap her across the face.

  I’m sure I’m projecting. I’ve got my own mommy issues. Our mothers look nothing alike except that my mom had blue eyes too.

  But it’s easy to spot the similarities between the women when it comes to their personalities. Both are selfish. Both are neglectful. My mom didn’t woman up and protect me from her pervert husband when she was supposed to and I hated her every day for it. And I don’t need to convince anyone that Georgia has also left Maisie vulnerable and defenseless in a way that a mother never should.

  Yet, somehow, Maisie loves her despite the fact the woman puts her life at risk every day. For each insult, Maisie provides an excuse. Any wrong is forgiven. It blows my mind that she manages to have only love in her heart for her mother and I don’t want to change that. I’d never want her to be as hard-hearted as me.

  But I can’t look past Georgia’s neglect. Or my mother’s.

  So I’ll be angry enough for the both of us.

  My throat constricts with emotion. “She’s a great kid.”

  Georgia stops squirming.

  “She needs you and you’re throwing her away.” I’m grinding my teeth so hard that my jaw hurts.

  Georgia looks me dead in the eye. “Kill me.”

  “You’re not the one I want. Where is he?”

  “Fuck you!” she hisses and spits onto my electrical shield. The saliva sizzles and burns away instantly.

  “Rude.” I’m keeping my tone light, but I want to reach up and crush her throat so bad I can’t see straight. “Of course, look at the monster you’re in love with. I can’t expect you to have manners.”

  “Drop your shield and fight me,” she says and lifts her chin. “Fight me fair.”

  I snort. “Because you’re the picture of fair, you wannabe ninja.”

  “You’re scared of me,” Georgia taunts. As her lips move I can’t help but stare at the red lipstick smeared in the corner of her mouth. It gives me the creepy impression of clowns. I want to wipe it off with my thumb, but that’d be super weird.

  Instead I roll my eyes at her. “I can burn you and your pretty pantsuit to a crisp.”

  No fear. She hardens as if she’s preparing for an attack. “I dare you.”

  Indignation rises inside me, rearing its head.

  Jesse. Gabriel’s voice is faint. Very far away, but his tone of warning is recognizable.

  I say, “I wanted to do it for Maisie. I wanted her to have you. I didn’t have my mom when I needed her, and I didn’t want to be the one to take you from her. Now I don’t see a way around it. You’ll kill me the second my back is turned and then it’ll be the two of you. I can’t trust you to protect her.”

  Her smirk falters.

  “I’d rather Maisie be alive and hate me than stuck with you until one of you decide to finish her off.”

  “Kill me,” she says again. But it isn’t as hateful. Why? Why would her hate falter now?

  Do not be deceived, Gabriel warns. The scent of rain washes over me, clearing my head.

  Where’s the string?

  Where’s the pull tab that springs this trap?

  She’s trying to distract me, but from what?

  She will sacrifice herself for him. Gabriel’s voice whispers through my mind. The option of materializing is impossible if I’m sitting on Georgia’s legs in the dirt, but I consider what he’s saying. She’s sacrificing herself and I’m being deceived.

  How is she sacrificing herself?

  If I kill her in the street, I’ll be dead. Absorbing her powers will kill me. And I’ll wake up stronger, but by then Caldwell will be awake, Maisie will never forgive me, and every power makes me a little more insane.

  Because again, I’m vulnerable if I kill her. Because it will buy him time to resurrect. He must be very close to waking now. And what if I’m still dead when he resurrects?

  Clues click into place.

  I grin down at her. “Tricky.”

  I stand, getting off her legs.

  “Kill me!” she shouts. But the smirk is entirely gone. Her eyes aren’t hard squints anymore either. They’re round with desperation and fear. Tears start to shimmer in the milky white orbs.

  “Which house is he in?” I ask her.

  “He isn’t even here. He’s in town. I lured you away from him.”

  “No you didn’t. You would’ve run slower.” I turn and look at the two houses on this street. There are only two. He’s got to be in one or the other.

  Georgia took a step back. When I first saw her, she kept walking backwards.

  One house she stepped toward and one she stepped away from.

  If I was hiding Ally in one of these houses, and Caldwell showed up to murder her, would I step toward Ally or away from her? I’d run toward her.

  But I’m not Georgia. Or rather Georgia isn’t me.

  I start toward the house she walked away from.

  Georgia screams, full on Viking battle roar, and charges. I brace myself for the impact that never comes. Instead, she yelps and drops to her hands and knees.

  “What the—?”

  Blood soaks through her shirt and trails down her arm. I stand in shock. Did I spontaneously develop a new power? Instant bleeding for all my foes? That’d be awesome.

  Another bullet flies and I realize what’s happening. I didn’t develop a new skill on the fly. Georgia got shot.

  “Arizona State Police! Get down and put your hands on the back of your head.”

  Georgia flicks her wrist and the men are thrown back. I can see the bottom of their black boots as they sail away from me. It’s an immediate reminder she has Rachel’s telekinesis. Why hasn’t she used it on me? But Rachel didn’t use it either. Not against my shield.

  Rachel. Just thinking about her hurts. I see her tilt her head and wrinkle her nose. My best friend—once upon a time. Repairing our relationship became impossible the second Georgia murdered her.

  Anger swells inside me. I’m ready to attack Georgia again, but more bullets fly.

  I expand my shield, trying to cover as much of myself and the worthless jerk as I can. It works. No, I haven’t suddenly changed my mind about this horrible creature. If they shoot her in the head, her powers will be dispersed to the next partis to catch. One or more will be called and we’ll have to hunt them down again. There’s a chance that a power could land with someone even worse than Caldwell.

  No thanks.

  Bullets ping off the shield and fly in all directions.

  In a moment of panic, Georgia’s eyes flick to the house down the street.

  “I knew it!” I turn and look at the house myself. Nothing remarkable. One-story white wood and a bicycle in the yard. Man, I hope Caldwell’s body is the only dead body I find in there.

  This is taking too much time. He lives.

  Gabriel’s words are a kick in the gut. He lives? Caldwell’s breathing?

  That won’t do.

  I throw my arm up, and a spray of fire leaps toward the cops. I close my eyes. I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to see their eyes as they die. I don’t want to hear them screaming as they are burned alive. As if I could block out the sound.

  I hesitate, wondering if I could find an alternative. Could I use my shield to knock the police back? They’ll keep coming. Could I burn them only a little? Not really. Once I kill Caldwell, I’ll be dead myself. I’ll be as vulnerable as I can be in those moments my mind and body reboots. And if something happens to my body then what about Maisie? There’s no one to protect her.

  I have no choice.

  I must kill these people. Fiv
e or six more police is nothing compared to numbers of dead left in Caldwell’s wake. Sacrifice a few for the whole.

  If I keep saying it, maybe I’ll believe it.

  I pinch my eyes shut and pretend there’s nothing but a scary movie on.

  But all I can see is Ally’s hurt face. Her hand over her mouth. The tears in her eyes.

  I’m sorry. Forgive me.

  I peel my wet eyes open and find charred bodies in the street. No more guns. No more screaming. I whirl on Georgia who leans against the fence. Two more bullet holes, either direct shots or ricochets from my shield, have nailed her in the gut and the leg. No headshots. She tries to get up, but she can’t.

  But her brains are in her head and that’s what matters. That’s what’ll keep her powers locked safely in her body for now.

  I turn and run toward the white house at the end of the lane, the one with the upturned bicycle in the yard. I don’t look back.

  “No!” Georgia screams after me. “He’s your father!”

  “No. He’s not.” I call back as I struggle to draw a breath.

  My father died a long time ago.

  Chapter 17

  Maisie

  “Hey!” The hand on my shoulder whips me around. It’s the paramedic from earlier, the one who escorted Sam away on the pretense of whatever lie he told him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I—I…?” My mind flatlines.

  “You can’t be here.” His hawk nose wrinkles in disapproval. “There’s a curfew.” He’s scolding me like I’m five.

  “S-sorry,” I say.

  I hate it when I stammer. It’s ridiculous.

  “Roy!”

  The paramedic, Roy, turns without letting go of my wrist. I wiggle it, trying to let him know he’s hurting me without straight up whining. His hold loosens. If this were Dad, he would have crushed it harder.

  “What?” He yells to the paramedic calling him, but Roy doesn’t look away. His eyes are fixed on me. His face scrunches in confusion. I definitely look familiar but he’s not placing me. Good. Hopefully he won’t until hours or days from now.