by Tania Hutley
I stumble toward where I think the roller door is and slam into the wall again. In all the dust, it’s easy to get turned around, so I’m not sure I’m going the right way as I feel along it. I’m trying not to cough in case they hear me, but my throat is burning and each breath is a struggle of will as I drag down more dust.
Then my hand touches cold metal. Success! It can only be the roller door, and the opening mechanism should be on the wall beside it.
Stretching as high as I can reach and then bending low, I run my hand over the wall. My fingers brush against something. A switch. That’s got to be it.
Even with my hand on it, I hesitate for a moment. As soon as I open this door, the stompers will be drawn to it. I’ll need to quickly take cover somewhere, which would be a lot easier if I weren’t blind.
Muscles poised, I jam the switch down. There’s a loud clanking noise, then dust swirls violently around me, like a mini tornado has formed. I can’t help coughing as I stumble forward. But now I can see a little further. With every step the dust is clearing. It’s being sucked out of the factory as the roller door rises.
A sharp crack of gunfire sends me diving forward. A stomper’s spotted me. He emerges from the dust, wearing a helmet that must be helping him to see. His weapon is so huge he uses both hands to hold it.
I scramble under a workstation, finding a metal stand to hide behind. It won’t protect me for long, though. Judging from his shouts, the stomper’s calling the rest of his team over.
The roller door is clattering higher, opening the factory to the street and blowing away the last of the dust just when I could do with the cover. If I try to break out from behind the workstation now, the stompers will have a clear shot.
Glancing outside, my stomach clenches. There are more stompers out there, running toward the open roller door. I can see three of them, their guns already drawn. With stompers both in front of me and behind me, it’s only a matter of seconds before one has a clear shot.
What wouldn’t I give to be in my Leopard Skin right now, to have some chance of fighting back against their weapons? Instead, I’m pinned. What else can I do but hide?
A horn blasts.
I jerk around to see a truck flying toward the still-opening roller door. The stompers in its path try to leap out of its way, but it strikes two of them, dragging them underneath it. The top of the truck hits the bottom of the roller door with a loud crash that turns into a screech of metal-against-metal as it scrapes through. It skids to a stop inside the factory, next to the Skin I pushed upright.
Tori is in the truck’s passenger seat. She leaps out with her gun drawn, firing into the building at the oncoming stompers.
I tug the bandanna from my face. “Tori,” I yell, sticking my head out from the workstation so she knows where I am.
She spares me a quick glance, then ducks behind the open door of the truck for cover while she keeps firing.
Gareth jumps out of the driver’s seat and throws a popper. “Get down,” he yells.
I was pulling myself out from under the workstation, but I dive back under it instead. The explosion isn’t nearly as strong as the one that blew up the factory, but it’s loud enough to make my ears ring again. A blast of heat hits my face and I suck more hot dust down my already-raw throat.
Cale jumps from the back of the truck, with Keren, Franco, and Spade. They all have guns, and are already firing into the factory. When Gareth said he’d bring weapons, he wasn’t messing around.
I crawl out from under the workstation, praying none of the bullets that are flying around the factory find me. Keeping low, I lope over to the Knight Skin and tuck myself behind it as much as I can. The trolley it’s on has a remote control unit, but when I push the button that should start it moving under its own power, nothing happens. I need to get the Skin into the back of the truck, but the only way to move it is to shove the trolley along, and that’s slow going. There must be some sort of brake mechanism that’s keeping the wheels from turning freely.
Cale runs over to me. “You okay?” He throws his weight into trying to shove the Skin as well. “Shit, it weighs a ton.”
Though I’m stronger than him, his pushing helps me get some momentum up, so the trolley moves faster to the back of the truck. Bullets ricochet off the Skin, and my adrenaline surges. I give a mighty shove and it rolls into place in front of the truck’s open back door.
“Does the hydraulic lift work?” pants Cale.
I shake my head. “Broken in the explosion.”
“Then how are we going to lift it into the truck?”
There’s only one way I can think of. The Skin’s far too heavy, and there’s no way for me to lift it off the ground. But I have to.
Getting under it, I drag in my breath.
Be the leopard. I am the leopard.
I grit my teeth and strain every muscle. A scream of pain forces its way up my raw throat, coming out deep and harsh between clenched teeth. Incredibly, I feel the Skin leave the floor. Cale joins me underneath it, letting out a roar of effort as he helps me lift it. Staggering, with my muscles on the point of exploding, we manage to heave it onto the bed of the truck.
Franco was using some packing crates for cover while he shot at the stompers outside the roller door. Now he’s looking back over his shoulder at us, the piece of plastic he was chewing on earlier still in his mouth. He stares with wide eyes, shooting forgotten. “How’d you do that?”
My gaze goes past him, first to the fallen stompers he must have shot, then to the street beyond them. A squad of six knights are jogging down the street toward us.
I suck in a breath, then shout as loud as I can. “Knights are coming!”
As though in slow motion, I see one of the knights raise its weapon. Though it’s still a long distance away, my heart contracts. Cale is in front of me, in full view of the knight.
I dive forward, tackling Cale to the ground. He lets out a grunt as he lands heavily on the concrete floor with my weight on top of him. I’m still looking up, at the knight, so I see it adjust its aim downward as Franco starts firing at it.
Scrambling off Cale, I grab his arm and tug him sideways, sliding him over the concrete. I fling him toward the crates that Franco’s hiding behind.
Sharp pain sears through my shoulder. I stagger backward, then duck behind the truck, my hand pressed hard against the place that feels like it’s on fire. Blood immediately pulses over my hand, but there’s no time to worry about it now.
“Everyone in the truck!” I yell.
Tori scrambles into the passenger seat. Keren and Spade run past me, firing at the knights while they leap for the back of the truck. Franco and Cale abandon the packing crates by the roller door, but as they sprint for the back of the truck, Franco stumbles and blood sprays from his neck. The piece of plastic flies out of his mouth. He falls, smacking the ground hard, and lies face down, blood pooling around him.
Cale stops, turning back for Franco.
My stomach clenches.
“He’s dead,” I yell, breaking cover to grab Cale and yank him to the truck. “Get in!”
Tori’s door is still open, and the knights are getting too close to risk running to the back of the truck. I turn to shove Cale in with Tori, but he steps back. “You get in first,” he orders, ducking down so he can fire under the truck at the oncoming knights.
I scramble in over Tori. It’s going to be a tight squeeze with four of us in the front of the truck, but too bad. Gareth is in the driver’s seat, looking into the side mirror at the oncoming knights. His face is pale and his trademark smile seems a long way away.
“We won’t get the truck out past the knights,” he says. “I’ve got to scatter them. Milla, can you drive?”
Before I can answer, he jumps out of the truck. He has a satchel slung over his shoulder and he dips his hand into it and throws a popper. When it hits the ground outside the roller door, it explodes.
“Drive,” he yells at me. “Go!”
/> I slide over to the driver’s seat and grab hold of the steering wheel with my left hand. Cabs don’t have steering wheels, and the only time I’ve ever seen a car that has one is on the holo. I guess I just turn it to steer, only pain is shooting down my right arm, and that hand doesn’t seem able to grip anything.
There’s a lever next to the wheel with numbers on it. I guess it should control our speed, but when I push it forward nothing happens.
Tori leans over to stab a button and the truck jolts and starts moving slowly backward.
Cale jumps into the truck, pushing Tori over so she’s pressed hard against me. The driver’s door is still open, and though I don’t have time to look for Gareth, I know he’s still okay because explosions keep rocking the truck. He must be keeping the knights back so they don’t swarm us.
Problem is, the truck’s reversing out past the roller door so slowly, Gareth’s going to run out of poppers before we can get out of here.
“It’s on auto-drive.” Cale drops the window so he can fire out of it. “Switch it to manual.”
“How?”
Tori hits another button on the dashboard, then another one. We lurch backward, then stop.
“Stupid truck.” She pounds on all the buttons.
“If we can’t get it off auto, it’ll drive us to the Meat Locker,” says Cale.
I spot a switch that’s half-hidden under the steering wheel and flick it. The truck lurches forward, accelerating back into the factory fast enough to press me back in my seat. I yank the wheel hard around with one hand, skidding us in a circle so tight, the truck lurches over onto two wheels before dropping back to all four. We clip the stack of crates, scattering them everywhere, and as we weave out of the roller door, Gareth jumps out of the way.
Keren and Spade are in the back of the truck with the Knight Skin. They’ll be getting thrown around, and I just hope the Skin doesn’t crush them.
Tori pulls on the lever to kill our speed. We slide to a stop with a knight directly in front of us. “Get in,” she yells at Gareth.
The other knights are sprawled on the ground. At first I assume having explosives thrown at them at close range has killed them, until I see them lift their heads and start pulling themselves to their feet.
Gareth throws another popper and it explodes in front of us. The fireball rocks the truck, and the windscreen cracks.
Incredibly, the knight that was standing in front of us staggers forward out of the fireball, like a black demon walking out of hell. It lifts its gun and fires at Gareth.
I shove the speed lever back up to high, and the truck lurches forward. It slams into the knight. For a moment it’s stuck on our bonnet, its yellow eyes staring into mine, then it gets whipped underneath us. Our back wheels bump over it.
Staring into the big side mirror, I see Gareth in a heap on the ground. His satchel is open and all his little round poppers are rolling away.
Tori grabs the lever and jams it back to zero, making the truck jerk to a stop. “Wait for Gareth. He’s coming.”
My heart clenches, but I don’t have time to break the truth to her gently because the other knights are getting to their feet. “I’m sorry, Tori. He’s dead.”
“No!”
Cale sticks his head out of the window to look behind us, but she yanks him aside, fumbling for the door so she can jump out.
“Stop her, Cale.” Though I’d give just about anything to be able to go back for Gareth’s body, three knights are back on their feet and starting toward us with their weapons raised. I shove the lever back up to full speed and we lurch forward into the street.
“Gareth!” Tearing at Cale, trying to wrench him out of the way so she can open the door, Tori lets out a heart-rending sob. “He might be alive. We have to go back.”
“The knights are running after us.” Cale puts his arms around her, hugging her tight. “I’m sorry. He’s gone.”
She tries desperately to shrug him off, grabbing for the speed lever, but he takes her hands. “He wanted you to get away. Don’t let it be for nothing, Tori. Give him that much.”
I yank the steering wheel one-handed, overcorrecting as I try to steer us down the narrow Old Triton street. We slam into a cab and bounce off it, then hit another cab.
I hang onto the wheel one-handed as the truck skids and rocks, then veers up onto the sidewalk. We narrowly miss the side of a building before I manage to swerve down a side street.
Sirens wail behind us, but by the time the stompers make it through all the carnage we’ve left in our wake, we’ll have a head start.
One problem. I was going to take the Knight Skin to Doctor Gregory, but we won’t make it all the way up to New Triton. Not with the stompers so close behind us.
Beside me, Tori is sobbing, her face buried in Cale’s shirt. I meet his eyes over her head.
“Why the hell did the bomb go off so early?” Cale demands. “Somebody screwed up.”
I shake my head. Whatever the reason, it was my plan that got Gareth and Franco killed. If I hadn’t talked them into helping me get a Knight Skin, they’d still be alive. Cale should be raging at me, shouting about how badly I messed up. Instead, he looks pale, and his eyes are dark and full of grief.
“I’m going to drive past the alley that leads to the safe house,” I say past the lump in my throat. “We’ll stop for long enough to shove the Skin out, and the four of you should be able to get it into the safe house. I’ll drive the truck a few blocks further, then dump it and meet you there.”
His gaze goes to my shoulder and his eyes widen with shock. “You’re hurt.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“Milla, your shirt is dripping blood.”
I shake my head and concentrate on driving and not falling apart, which is pretty damn hard when every sob Tori lets out stabs itself directly into my heart.
Chapter Fourteen
It’s early evening and Old Triton has been swallowed by inky blackness by the time I’ve abandoned the truck and dragged myself back to the safe house. My shoulder is throbbing and I feel weak and dizzy. All I want is to collapse inside and shut my eyes. But at the door to the safe house, I hesitate.
My stomach clenches at the thought of facing Tori. She’s going to be sick with grief and she’ll never forgive me for getting Gareth and Franco killed.
Instead of facing all the people who’ll be here, who loved them both, I could go to Doctor Gregory’s. Ma’s there, and I’m sure she’ll be anxious to get her band back.
But that would be cowardly. I need to face Tori and the others, and at least apologize for dragging them into my plan. Not that I imagine it’ll help with their grief.
I take a few deep breaths, bracing myself before I knock. “What’s buried will rise,” I say through the door.
It opens right away and Cale stands back to let me in, letting out a loud exhale. “You made it. I was so worried.” As I step inside, he takes my arm. “Come and sit down. You look dead on your feet.”
I don’t think he notices my flinch at his poor choice of words.
They managed to get the Knight Skin inside. It’s in the corner, looming over the small room like it’s about to come to life and kill us all. The place still stinks as much as it did before. Tori, Keren, and Spade are sitting at the table. There’s a bottle on the table that can only be street brew, and they’re sipping it out of cups.
“Hey,” says Keren. “Glad you’re okay.”
Tori’s eyes are bloodshot and her face is pale, but she gives me a nod. I open my mouth to tell her how sorry I am, but Cale speaks first.
“Milla needs a doctor. She’s been shot.” He leads me to one of the rickety metal-and-canvas beds pushed against the wall, and I sink down onto it.
Spade drains his cup and gets up from the table. “I’m the doctor. Close enough, anyway.”
I look at him doubtfully. He’s still covered with dust and dirt from the factory, and his hands are as filthy as the lumpy knitted hat he’s wearing. Plus h
e’s been drinking street brew, which is strong enough that a lot of sinkers use it to kill head lice and crabs.
“Don’t worry, I’ve done this before.” He gives me a tight, humorless smile, then goes to the makeshift kitchen faucet to wash his hands in the cold water and soak a rag.
“Tori,” I say, my voice still raspy from all the dust I inhaled. “I’m so sorry.”
She blinks hard, obviously fighting tears, then shakes her head with a scowl. “Gareth should’ve stayed in the truck. The bastard had to be a hero.”
Finished in the kitchen, Spade comes over to me. He’s holding a spray can, and his fingernails are still black. He grimaces. “Hate to break it to you, but I’ve got nothing to dull the pain.”
Cale grabs a mug and sloshes in some of the street brew. “Here.” He hands it to me. “Drink this.”
I’ve had street brew before, but never developed a taste for it. This stuff smells disturbingly like the lubricant they use on the machines in the factory. The gulp I take incinerates my raw throat before sinking into my stomach like a glowing ember.
Spade motions me to lie down flat, then kneels next to the bed. “Not going to lie to you, this is going to hurt. You ready?” When I nod, he pulls on my T-shirt, easing the cloth out of the dried blood.
I can’t help making a keening sound. It feels like he’s peeling my skin off.
Cale sits on the bed beside my knees, where he’s out of the way. He takes hold of my clenched fist and I grip his hand, squeezing so tightly I’m probably crushing his bones. I clamp my teeth together, willing myself not to cry out again.
Spade pulls a blade out of his boot and cuts my T-shirt right off. I want to tug up a blanket for modesty’s sake, but my shoulder throbs so badly I can’t move. He dabs gently at my shoulder with his wet rag, wiping it clean.
“You’re lucky,” he says finally. “A little to the left or right, and you would have bled to death.”
I don’t feel lucky. I feel heartsick and guilty, and in too much pain to say the things I need to say. My teeth are so tightly clenched together it feels like they’ve fused shut, and I can’t make myself stop crushing Cale’s hand.