by Amy Braun
Stanner’s dark eyes burst with rage. He actually growled at me, looking just like the feral dog snarling from the tattoo on his right arm.
“You got nowhere to run, traitor,” Stanner spat. He tossed aside the pistol, withdrew a knife, and took a step closer to me. His gaze cut to Sawyer. “Neither of you. I’m going to take you apart piece by damn piece.”
My ally glanced at the weapon. “You’re really going to wish you held onto that.”
“Why?” Dylan’s thumb lifted the hem of his stained brown work shirt, his hand settling on his flintlock pistol. A cruel grin split across his face, revealing ugly, rotting teeth. “There’s nothing you can do to us. Nash is bleeding like a stuck pig. No one will help you when you scream.”
Shadows moved behind Stanner and Dylan. When I narrowed my eyes, the Stray Dog bruisers probably thought I was in pain. When I widened them, they probably thought I was afraid.
I watched the shadows stalk closer, moving with a graceful, inhuman gait.
“It’s not us who’ll be screaming,” Sawyer said coldly.
It all happened so fast. Dylan and Stanner never heard or sensed them coming.
A sharp needle plunged through Dylan’s neck, the tip sticking out from under his Adam’s apple like a thorn. Blood squirted from the wound. Dylan’s eyes widened with shock and pain. Leather gloves curled around his shoulders and dug into them. The needlepoint retracted back and… I heard a thick, guzzling sound.
My stomach heaved. The Hellion was using the needle to suck the blood out of Dylan.
We all stood there and stared, as shocked and as horrified as the rapidly paling marauder. Stanner gaped and backed away. He didn’t notice the second Hellion until it rammed into him.
The monster drove Stanner to the ground, gripping his throat with its hands. Stanner coughed his screams, batting uselessly at the Hellion’s clothed body.
They were wearing black jumpsuits with blood red buttons running up the left side of the jacket. Their boots looked heavy enough to crush skulls. Leather gloves shielded their hands. Protecting their heads were round, oil black helmets with two bulbous, black glass eyes fixed to the smooth surface.
But the most terrifying part of the mask was the four- inch needle protruding from the mouthpiece. It was like a hornet’s stinger, viciously sharp and capable of causing excruciating damage and pain if it struck its target. With the victim so close, there was no way the Hellion could miss.
Dylan was white as a sheet. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. Fresh blood trickled out from the hole in his neck. On the ground, Stanner’s face began to turn blue. The Hellion pinning him suddenly lunged down. The needle plunged into the man’s cheek. Stanner’s eyes bulged, and the hands around his neck constricted. He kicked his feet and pushed weakly against the Hellion.
I was frozen with fear, not only because of what I was seeing, but because I could hear nothing. Two horrendous murders, and the only sounds were quiet choked gurgles and strangled screams. This nightmare seared itself in my brain in seconds.
I jumped when Sawyer nudged my arm. “Run, before more show up.”
That was all the warning he gave. In the next moment Sawyer was running from the bloodbath. Past the feeding Hellions, and back into the city. I didn’t hesitate in following him.
Like Sawyer, I went around the two monsters as they killed two of my crew mates. I couldn’t call them friends or allies. Not even rivals, given how many times they attacked me and sought my death. But I wouldn’t have wished this horror on anyone, no matter what his or her grudges or crimes were. Some fates were just too awful to witness and endure.
I had no illusions about what the Hellions were. There was nothing human in them. Nothing remotely close. They had two arms and two legs, but they were bigger. Faster. Stronger. Capable of more carnage than Davin Kendric on his bloodiest day.
Now that they found a way to guard themselves from the sun, their raids would occur whenever they hungered for blood. No time of day would be safe. No survivors would be safe.
The Hellions weren’t through with us yet. No matter how much we had suffered and lost, they would see to it that we suffered and lost more. We were nothing but food to them, only here to be devoured whenever their bellies felt empty, or they decided they were bored.
I pumped my legs as fast as I could. Pain seemed to be coming from every inch of my body. Sawyer’s fleeing shape blurred in front of me. Nausea rolled in my stomach.
Keep going don’t stop don’t slow down keep moving you have to keep moving–
Grating screams erupted behind me. The Hellions were done with their feast, and looking for the next course.
Fear of being stabbed, drained, and murdered motivated me, but my body was giving up on me. I was burning out, no matter how strong I told myself was. It didn’t matter if I forced myself. I would collapse, and soon.
But before that, the Hellions would grab me. I could hear their heavy boots pummelling the pavement, smell the fresh coppery blood on their clothes. Angry snarls and growls were distorted and metallic behind their masks.
Rough leather fingers swiped against my back in a clawing motion. They nearly snagged in my shirt. I had seconds left.
In that moment, I knew I was going to die. The Hellions had smelled the blood from my wound when I rushed past them. They couldn’t let it go to waste.
My chance at a fresh start was lost. The only thing I could do now was go down swinging.
And give the Hellions a little hell of their own.
Chapter 9
I planted my feet, tucked my head to my chest, and buckled forward. I pressed my elbows together and shoved back as hard as I could. The powerful, sudden stance and speed of the Hellions crashed together in one explosive moment. My elbows jabbed into the monster’s stomachs, bending them in half. I didn’t know if Hellions needed to breathe, but the impact stopped them nonetheless. Hitting their hardened bellies sent ripples of shock through my arms, stinging the bullet wound in my back and chest. Fighting against the pain and ignoring the fear, I whirled around and snapped a kick across the farthest one’s helmet. I twisted again and drove my fist into the throat of the left Hellion.
“What are you doing?” I heard Sawyer shout.
I didn’t turn to look at him. This was his one chance to get away. I could die knowing that both he and Sonya would make it just a little bit farther than I did. That wasn’t a lot to salvage from this disaster, but I would take what I could get.
The Hellions shook off the hits with ease. They shrieked and hissed. I could almost see their crimson eyes beyond the black glass of the mask. I could almost feel their hunger and rage as their muscles coiled and prepared to spring.
“GO!” I roared.
The command was barely past my lips before the Hellions leaped.
Despite their swiftness, power, fury, and pointed needles on covering their mouths, I was glad I couldn’t see the true faces of the Hellions. Their ghoulish, sickly faces and razor fangs might have halted me.
The Hellion on the left reached for me first. Its hands shot for my face. I grabbed its arms and turned to force it into the Hellion on the right. They bumped into each other, but the Hellion I’d thrown lashed out with a violent back-fist. Rough leather-clad knuckles crashed into the side of my head, shooting stars into my vision. I couldn’t see, but I kicked in the direction of the Hellions. My boot slammed into something solid and a Hellion screeched. I backed up and blinked my vision clear. Just in time to see the second Hellion charging me.
I waited until it closed distance, then slipped my foot back and twisted out of its range. The Hellion skidded to a stop, but wasn’t able to miss my punch.
The brass knuckles crunched into the plastic helmet and left a dent behind. One of the protective orbs had a crack. My next punch went to the same spot, putting another crack in the eye.
One more and the glass could break–
A heavy force slammed into me, crushing me into the ground. The collision
sent a flood of pain through my back into my chest. It felt like all the skin around the bullet wound had exploded off of me. The only reason I didn’t scream was because the impact jolted the air out of my lungs.
The Hellion trapping me on the ground snapped its head down. My reflexes kicked in at the last second. My hand curled around the needle before it could stab into my throat. The Hellion jerked to a stop, in perfect range for my second fist. I pummelled its helmet, aiming for the eyes, punching as fast as I could to break the glass. Brass cracked against the smooth surface, spider-webbing it–
A solid punch hammered into my chest, right into the worst of the bullet wound. Agony like liquid fire ripped through my torso. This time, I couldn’t hold back my scream.
The fingers didn’t leave. They dug into the wound, pinching damaged nerves, pulling on ruined muscle, stretching skin to rip it from the bone–
Another scream cut through the air. It ended as quickly as I heard it. It might have been mine. I didn’t know. All I knew was the torture in my chest, and my slipping hold on the needle of the Hellion tearing at me.
Metal shrieked as the bloody needlepoint pushed against my brass knuckles, digging into the hollow of my throat. The tip scratched against my skin, like a cat beginning to claw at the mouse in its clutches.
The Hellion raised its head, pulling the needle from my hand but keeping me in agony with its fingers buried in my chest. My vision swam and spiralled. I raised my good hand, knowing I wouldn’t be able to stop the next, final blow. The Hellion plowed its head down, aiming for my throat–
A flash of silver swept down from behind the Hellion. Thick blood sprayed from the monster’s neck. The edge of a sword was buried deep in its throat.
The Hellion twitched and jerked, wrenching its head to my right. It didn’t seem to notice or care that it cut its own throat. The blade was ripped free, the Hellion’s screams turning into horrid, choked gasps behind its mask. Another flash of silver, and the Hellion’s head toppled from its neck.
I groaned and clutched my chest. The wound was deep and ragged, almost double the size it was before. I sighed. It was time to admit I was beaten. I couldn’t take on the second Hellion in this state, no matter what words of encouragement I gave myself.
Metal scraped against leather. I turned my head slightly, cracking open an eyelid. Sawyer crouched down by my head. He frowned at my injuries. I wondered if I was delirious. There was no way the marauder would have stayed if he weren’t a hallucination. Nobody in their right mind stayed to save a stranger from Hellions. The kind-hearted were among the first ones to die in The Storm.
Still, this Sawyer shook his head. “I know I said trust me for fifteen minutes, but I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t do anything stupid two minutes later.”
I continued to blink– even that seemed to hurt– and found that Sawyer was still with me, looking concerned, of all things.
“You need to get up,” he told me.
I sighed. “I’d much rather sleep.” I started closing my eyes.
Sawyer’s sigh was much more impatient.
“Fine.”
Gravel shifted, and soon there were hands hooking under my right arm and pulling me from the ground. I hissed and tried to jerk away. Given how much blood I’d lost and how much pain I was in, my struggles did little good. Then again, Sawyer seemed determined to hang onto me. I glared at him, and he glared right back.
“I just killed two Hellions for you,” Sawyer barked. “Did you forget that there was more than one skiff coming down? I’m not going to leave you here to die.”
I managed to slip my hand from his. I rolled onto my side, halfway to getting up. “Why?” was the only word I could manage.
Sawyer stared at me for a long time. I couldn’t read his face, but his jaw was set tight, like he was holding something back.
Then his shoulders slumped, and the mask slipped.
“Because you’re the first person who’s ever saved my life.”
Right then, I spotted the pain. The soul crushing loneliness that he was forced to endure. Just because of his name.
I had no idea why Sawyer really chose to save my life. If he was telling me the truth, or putting on an act that would lead me into a trap. At the moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care.
Slowly, grudgingly, I pushed to my feet. The moment I lifted my head, everything around me tilted violently. I began falling, certain that this collapse would be my last.
Sawyer darted under my toppling body and stopped the fall. He almost buckled under my weight, but somehow found a way to support me.
“We need to get out of sight,” Sawyer said. “If those other Hellions do come looking for their friends, I don’t want to be around for the reunion.”
I nodded dully. I decided there was no point in speaking anymore. I was exhausted, almost out of blood, and had no idea where I was. Sawyer could have been taking me to a group of cannibals for a royal feast, and I would never know until I was roasting on the spit.
Hell of a way to start my new, free life.
***
The shambling walk through Westraven was a blur. I remember moving through crumpled shops, past some sagging metal warehouses, over a road that seemed to be made entirely of broken glass, then into a dimly lit, grey brick apartment building. Sawyer half carried me up the stairs until we reached a floor that had been devastated in The Storm. The walls separating the bachelor rooms from one another were knocked out, creating a wide-open space that covered the whole floor. The interiors were picked clean of anything useful. Tables, mattresses, chairs, silverware, carpets, even sinks had been torn out and carried off somewhere else for treasure or resource.
Only one thing remained– a collapsible metal ladder studded with large gears and cranks on the sides that peeked out from the edges of a dusty blue tarp.
Sawyer carefully set me against the remnants of the far left wall, treating me like I would shatter at the slightest brush of wind. I would have shrugged him off if I didn’t think the slightest, quickest movement would incapacitate me.
I rolled my head against the wall and watched Sawyer kneel on the floor to pull the tarp back. He gripped the ladder and laid it horizontally onto the ledge of the broken wall. Once it was settled into a position that satisfied him, he twisted the knobs and rotated the cranks. The ladder began to extend with grating clicks that sounded too loud for my ears. Sawyer continued to operate the ladder, stretching it one rung at a time until it clicked and thunked against something in the distance. I watched Sawyer push against the ladder. It remained sturdy, so he began to cross over it. I shuffled along the wall and squinted to get a better look at whatever was supporting the ladder.
I blinked a couple times to make sure the overwhelming pain wasn’t making me see things.
The buildings across from us had been torn down as though sheared. Decade old bombings had pummelled them into a slash of rubble that turned the sidewalks into the alley into a craggy hill that blocked further views of the city. I couldn’t even see the horizon.
Lying on its port side against the hill of debris, was the most wretched and pathetic airship I’d ever seen.
The ruined airship was a huge, two hundred foot barque with three thick masts resting against heaps of rubble. The sails had been stripped away, and the most of the paint was chipped to reveal the dented, punctured taupe iron beneath it. Two sets of rusty cannons lined the hull. The windows that remained on the captain’s cabin were smeared with white dust. Some of them were cracked, or missing all together. A huge piece of the hull was gone, as though some kind of beast sliced into the ship’s skin and tore a strip of it away. The gouge was so deep that I could see the blackened interior where some kind of shot had burst in and scorched everything inside.