by Amy Braun
Sawyer slowed down a couple minutes later when he spotted the rusted ladder that would connect us to the trap door to enter the Barren’s surface.
Instead of climbing first, Sawyer stepped aside, drawing his cutlass and his flintlock. His eyes targeted Sonya.
“Go,” he growled.
She jumped at the chance to follow his orders. I backed up to the ladder, watching the shadows flash to life as the light bulbs sputtered against the wooden support beams. Maddened shouts and curses surrounded me, reverberating off the walls and filling me with dread.
“Your turn,” Sawyer commanded. His eyes never left the shadows.
I grabbed the edge of his jacket and swung him toward the ladder. He grunted in surprise and shoved me away. I matched his glare with a hard one of my own.
“Don’t make this all for nothing,” I told him. “Get moving.”
That angry bristle filled his eyes again. He really, really, didn’t like to be told what to do. A trait all marauders seemed to share.
Knowing we couldn’t spend any more time arguing, Sawyer holstered his weapons and started up the ladder. He scrambled like a pack of ravenous wolves were on his tail. I would have laughed at the relevance of my thought if I didn’t think those same wolves were going to rip pieces out of me.
Sawyer and Sonya argued over my head as they worked to move the heavy trap door. I saw the dull orange glow of a lantern bobbing back and forth as the Stray Dogs approached. I could hear everything being said now.
“He can’t be far!”
“Traitor took the whore, too!”
“Son of a bitch, I’m gonna kill him!”
“Nash!” Sonya called.
I whirled on my heel and clambered up the ladder. It was a little awkward with the brass knuckles surrounding my fingers, but I moved fast, even though I knew that the Stray Dogs would see me before I reached the surface. The best we could hope for was close the trap door over their heads and run to cover before the Dogs opened it again.
And that there were no other snipers patrolling the wall to gun us down.
I pushed those thoughts to the very back of my mind when I reached the open door. I crawled out from the underground and leaped onto the hard concrete surface of the Barren. I twisted around, grabbed the iron rings of the door and slammed it down. It closed with a satisfying thunk, buying us at least a little more time.
When I got to my feet, the first thing my eyes fixed on was the top of the crumbling stone walls of the barracks. The dimness the grey sky told me it was daylight. I scanned the watchtowers for hidden snipers, but there didn’t appear to be any. The only watchful gaze was the Behemoth, sitting lazily in the clouds it poisoned with heavy black smoke pouring past the rudder.
“Go!” I shouted to my companions. They needed little encouragement.
We sprinted as fast as we could for the collapsed part of the wall, the same one I’d taken when I left on Ryland’s mission. Right now, we were trapped in wide- open space. Our backs were exposed to any Stray Dog bullet if they got out of the tunnels and into the Barren. Once we made it into Westraven’s collapsed ruins, there would be places we could hide until the Stray Dogs gave up the chase.
If they did. I had no idea how Ryland would take this betrayal, especially since he lost the chance to give a beating to a Kendric, something he’d wanted to do for over a decade. What he would do to Sonya and me after… the possibilities were too awful to think about. I imagined there would be plenty of bloodshed and endless screams.
Don’t think like that, I told myself. We’ve got the head start. We’ll keep it. Just run. Don’t stop.
Sawyer took the lead, swivelling his head left and right as though to assure himself there were no threats when he approached the crumbling wreckage of the wall. He scrambled up the fallen stones easily, dodging rebar that stuck out of the stone like spears. I’d heard Ryland say he was thinking about turning the rebar into a wall of spikes to keep intruders out, maybe even lining part of it with explosives, and I was glad he chose not to do so yet. Having my legs blown off would seriously have impacted my dreams of escape. The dream that was finally coming true.
Sonya picked up her skirts and had a little more trouble moving up the stones. I noticed then that she didn’t have any shoes on. The soles of her feet would be hardened from living in underground with the other Runts, but the sharp stones would still cut her skin mercilessly. I climbed up beside her and grabbed her hand, steadying her as she staggered over the rubble. I helped her onto the crest and continued navigating her down. My heart thundered about my chest, survival instincts screaming for me to let her go and run! But I had to know she would be safe. Sonya wasn’t a warrior like Sawyer, or a brutal champion fighter like me. Which was why keeping her alive was so important to me.
She stumbled on her feet and lifted her head. Then she stopped completely. I was about to pull her along, tell her that we had to leave, but the expression on her face stopped me. Absolute fear consumed Sonya. Her hand shivered in my grip. Her mouth was open, as though she were seconds away from screaming. I followed her gaze, barely noticing that Sawyer had gone rigid as well.
As soon as my eyes found the grotesque ship dangling in the sickened sky, I understood.
Three black shapes peeled out from under the lower half of the Behemoth. They hovered in the air, then turned and pivoted in our direction.
Hellion skiffs. In the daylight.
Coming straight for us.
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, nearl
y 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.
