by J. N. Chaney
She exited the vehicle, coming around to catch up with the kid who had been trying to get to the other side of the car. Before I could reload the chamber, she punched the boy in the gut as he doubled over, and then she brought him around between us, using his body as a shield.
I cursed under my breath, but reloaded the chamber and focused on the scope. I could still hit her, even with the boy in the middle.
She ducked behind the child, then chaotically and frantically fired in my direction.
Rounds whizzed past me, but I didn’t look up from my scope. She slowly worked herself away from the ruined shuttle, backing up towards one of the nearby office buildings owned and operated by the docking company.
I aimed just a little high and shot again. I wasn’t going to risk hitting the kid just to kill her, but if she panicked, she might make a bad move and start running for the building without her hostage.
She ducked again, looking at where I’d hit and then back at me. I fired another shot, grazing both their heads, purposefully too high, but she didn’t react this time. She just inched toward the building, holding the crying child in her hands. When she got close enough, she turned around and shot out the glass doors.
I watched her closely as she disappeared into the building, dragging the kid along with her.
“Fuck,” I growled, pulling away from the scope.
I’d had my chance, and in a moment of weakness, I’d blown it. She had to know that.
I resisted the urge to throw my rifle on the ground in frustration but didn’t take the time to disassemble it either. I set it behind a dumpster and sprinted for the door.
Clementine would kill that boy. I could sense it coming. It wouldn’t matter if I let her go or gave her space, she’d end his life simply because he’d seen her face. Not to mention the people in the building and the street. She’d kill anyone who got in her way, and she’d keep on doing it for the rest of her life. It was all she knew—the only way she could survive.
That was why I couldn’t stop chasing her because she would keep on hurting people for as long as she drew breath. I’d have to kill her. It was the only way.
I reached the stairwell, the child’s screams echoing through the building from several flights above. I started moving, taking two steps at a time, going as fast as my feet would allow.
It wouldn’t be long before the authorities arrived. With all those people outside screaming in confusion, someone was bound to connect what happened. I didn’t have much time.
I rolled my shoulders and pulled my mask on. If this was how she wanted to play it, fine. I’d give her the fight she so desperately craved. I’d end this whole thing once and for all.
For Mulberry and Pearl, but most of all, for me.
* * *
Three flights up from the ground floor, I found the body of a short, pudgy man in a guard’s uniform. Older with a balding head and white hair, he’d fallen in the same way Mulberry had when he died, and a sudden flash ran through my mind of the old man in those final moments.
I let out a bitter sigh, stepping over the body, trying to push the images out of my head. Instead, I clutched the pistol in my hand even tighter, hurting my fingers.
Several floors remained, but the next one had drops of blood right outside the open doorway. Was it Clementine’s? Was she still hurt from the fight in Mulberry’s room? I wondered if, in all the chaos, her wound had torn itself open again. If so, it explained her panicked behavior. She was like a cornered animal, desperate to survive. That also meant she was more dangerous, ready to do anything to get away. I wouldn’t be able to anticipate her actions, because she wasn’t thinking clearly.
The hall ahead of me had dark, grey carpet. Light from the distant windows beamed through, giving the area a soft, unsettling ambiance.
I slowed my pace, keeping my gun up as I circled around the corner. My eyes hadn’t adjusted, but I couldn’t stop moving. The longer I waited, the more time Clem had to find an exit.
I couldn’t see a fire escape yet, but there had to be one somewhere.
One of the office doors stood open, and I raised my gun as I approached. This seemed too obvious. Even if she were injured, Clem would know to cover her tracks better than that. I moved closer, coming down to a crouching walk.
The boy was sitting on the floor inside with his hands covering a wound in his stomach. Tears covered his face. Confused and panicked, his lips trembled as he struggled to breathe with a horrified look in his eyes.
“Shit,” I said, sweeping the rest of the room before heading over to him.
“I-it hurts,” he said softly, gritting his teeth. “P-please, h-help me.”
I pressed a gloved finger to his neck, feeling his pulse. It was quick but steady. I might still be able to save him.
I knew why Clem did this. She could have killed him, but she left him here for me to find. She wanted me to save him because it would mean letting her go.
I pulled gauze from my pouch and pressed it into his stomach. “Keep pressure on it. You’re going to make it through this, kid.”
He gasped, trying to smile. “Are you a cop?”
“No,” I said. “Where’s your comm? We need to call the police to come get you.”
“She took my comm,” he said softly.
I pulled my mask up enough for me to reach my own comm, and I pressed it into his ear. “Use mine. Call them.” I unlocked the security on the device to allow the police to track it, which would lead them directly to the boy.
He nodded, placing the comm in his ear.
I wanted to stay with him and help, but I couldn’t let Clementine get away. If I didn’t stop her now, she’d kill more people, and there’d be no end to any of this.
After he made the call to the police and told them his location, I asked him to stay put. “I’ll come back here soon, but if the cops show up, you go with them. Understand?”
“O-okay,” he said, quietly. “But who are you?”
I reflexively opened my mouth to say my number but stopped. “I’m Abigail,” I said, honestly. “What’s your name?”
“Arin,” he replied, giving me a gentle smile.
I returned it. “See you soon, Arin.”
I turned and jogged back to the stairs, pulling the door open. Clem could have already escaped, but I had to take the chance that she was still here.
Shuffling steps echoed through the stairs from far away. She was running, and there was desperation in her movements. I peeked over the railing of the stairwell, only to be met by gunshots. They ricocheted off the metal beams and railing.
Gunshots made me jump back. They were from above. I raised my weapon and fired in return when I saw movement. Maybe in her rush to get to the top, she hadn’t realized just how ingenious her plan was until it was too late. She must have doubled back since she was only five floors above me.
She was too far into the stairwell for my line of fire, but I could hear her running up the steps. Impressive, considering her wound. Then again, this was Clementine. She’d always pushed beyond her limits.
I raced up the stairs, closing the distance between us. She seemed to be heading to the roof, possibly for the fire escape, but I’d catch her before that. At her current pace, she couldn’t outrun me. Not with those wounds.
A couple wild shots hit the stairs beside me, pulling me back closer to the wall.
Below us, doors opened and boots shuffled. The police were here, no doubt, which gave me little time to finish this job.
The door next to me said twelve. They’d have to climb all the way to us, but if I just kept moving, I could stay ahead of them.
Even so, we didn’t have much time left. I supposed Clem getting locked up was better than her continuing. It would certainly be better than having to kill her myself.
Then again, I’d be arrested as well, and knowing Clem, she’d take her own life before she let anyone take her to prison. The last thing she’d accept was living out the rest of her days in a mining
colony on some other world.
Clem must have heard the police, because she stopped shooting at me, opting to run instead. We had another ten or so floors to go before we reached the top. I followed her lead, giving the climb everything I had.
To her credit, Clem managed to keep pace with me all the way up, staying about two floors above me before she opened the door to the roof. I made my way there, gasping for air as I finally neared it. Sweat soaked into my suit as I paused in front of the door.
The stairs ended. This was as far as we could go.
I gripped my gun tighter, trying to ignore the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. I gulped down another lungful of air before pulling the door open.
It was a maintenance area with a water pump straight ahead of me along with the pulley system for the elevators. There weren’t any lights on, and I could hear machinery working. It was warm and dark, and the air had the taste of rust in it.
Was Clem still running? She had to be as tired as I was, if not more.
Gunfire echoed in the darkness, and I ducked, raising my pistol. My breathing and heartbeat had been so loud before this, but now they were gone, replaced by the moment.
There was only one way through the room, and that was forward. I tried to stay quiet, moving slowly towards the other side.
A trickle of sweat ran down the small of my back. It felt like someone was watching me, waiting for my guard to drop before slashing my throat open and ending it all in a sudden, brief exchange.
I pictured Clem’s manic eyes. I imagined her standing over me, bloody knife in hand as I choked on a river of blood. She would lean down and stroke my hair, and that terrifying smile would be the last thing I saw.
I shook my head, pushing that cold feeling of dread from my stomach. I needed to finish this. One way or another, it would end today.
Before I made it halfway through the room, something hit me hard in the side. Clem grabbed my hand holding my weapon. I fired, but the bullet soared off into the darkness, far away from us. She jabbed me in my ribs. My suit absorbed some of the force, but she knew the design well enough to get most of the pressure through.
I gasped, spit bursting from my mouth.
She twisted around, striking me in the jaw and throwing my head back. White pinholes of light filled my vision as she pushed me back into a wall. The impact drew a pained grunt from me as I felt my suit tense.
She shoved her forearm against my throat, leaning her full weight into it. I coughed hoarsely, trying to breathe. Tears welled in my eyes, and I reached out, fingers pressing into her face, searching for her eyes. As my fingers found her lashes, she pulled away, lessening the pressure to my neck.
As she did, I took the opportunity to lunge at her, trying to jab her in the throat. She leaned back to dodge the strike, and I brought my leg up to her stomach.
Making contact, she yelped an awful cry while still holding my wrist. Still keeping my gun away from her, I started pushing back. We both fell to the floor, clumsily rolling on one another, and she finally let my weapon go. She sprang to her feet, kicking at my hand, but I moved in time to fire.
She reacted instantly, dodging clear of my aim. I pulled the trigger again. My eyes were teary, and I was coughing hard. I wiped my sleeve across my forehead and blinked, trying to see where she’d gone.
Even so, I kept pulling the trigger until the gun clicked empty. By the time my vision cleared, Clem was gone, and I was still prone on the floor.
I coughed again, lifting my mask to spit the accumulated phlegm from my throat. I ejected the empty magazine and put my last one in.
Like Pearl said—if you needed more than three mags, you were doing it wrong.
I chambered a round, rolling my neck as I pushed myself back to my feet. Everything hurt. It was hard to breathe, and it felt like something might be broken.
I bit my lip and swallowed a dry throat.
“Of course, there’s a ladder,” I muttered as I reached the far side of the room, looking up to where the sunlight pierced the dark through the cracks of the hatch in the ceiling. I started climbing. Each rung led to a new part of my body screaming in pain, but I ignored it.
I pushed the door open, pausing for a few moments before raising my knife to use as a mirror, angling it to see what was around. When I was satisfied, I stepped outside. A gust of wind caught my dry eyes, and I instinctively took a deep breath of the fresh air through my mask.
I tapped my ear, hoping to call in a few drones to check the ceiling, but it was gone. I’d given it to the kid. Gods, this just wasn’t my day.
A foot kicked me in the side of the face, knocking my mask off. A knife dug into my shoulder. It was a shallow cut, but the pain made me cry out. I squirmed out of the hatch, rolling away and grasping the hilt of the knife.
I managed to twist around. My side ached so badly that I felt sick as I twisted the gun toward Clem’s head and pulled the trigger. I missed, wavering on my feet as my shoulder burned with the pain of the fresh wound.
I pulled the trigger again, trying to point the barrel back at her. She came in close and gripped the gun, holding it above our heads, trying to wrestle it free from me, but I wouldn’t give it up. I couldn’t.
My free hand jabbed into her injured ribs, and I tried to gain control. I shot, again and again, hoping to throw her off balance, but she refused to flinch.
That was when the gun clicked empty for the third time.
“Looks like you’re all out, Abby!” she snapped, a wicked grin etched across her face.
I pressed my knee into her gut and shoved her away. She staggered, clutching her bleeding side, and I rolled to my feet. She did the same, and we stared at each other, taking a second to recover.
Finally, I reached for the only weapon still remaining which was the combat knife on my hip.
Clem pulled two more daggers from her belt, spinning them neatly. “You’re just so determined. I have to say, I’m impressed.”
“You killed Mulberry,” I said, lifting my hands and readying the knife.
Clem laughed. “We both know I’m better at this part. You’ve lost your only advantage.”
I shrugged. “Prove it.”
She nodded, also raising her hands up in a fighting stance.
We stared at one another for a long moment, the air thick and cold as I tried to steady my breathing. Our eyes locked, and I knew there was no going back.
She lunged at me, and then again. When her hand came close, I tried to sweep her wrist with mine. She pulled back, avoiding it.
Her knives arced through the air. All of Galion’s training was on display, and it was all I could do to block and evade the first flurry of attacks. I slipped past her and stabbed at her arm, slicing into her flesh. She didn’t scream but only stepped away as blood seeped through her sleeve and onto her hand.
I felt a sting on my arm where she’d cut me. I hadn’t noticed it in the heat of the moment, but it was there.
I stepped forward, and she reacted by swinging her knife, only to pull back and sweep her other hand toward me. The blood from her wound spattered across my eyes, blinding me. I staggered away from her, swiping my knife frantically as I tried to wipe it off.
I couldn’t see the next attack, but I certainly felt it. Her dagger plunged into the thin layer between my left breast and shoulder. I shoved her away from me, but she’d already split the armor. Thankfully, it had only nicked my skin.
She grunted, furiously, and I responded by coming in close to her and wrapping my arms around her chest. She dug her knife into my shoulderblade, but the armor was thick enough to keep it from piercing my skin, though I still felt the pain and pressure.
Before she had a chance to try again, I pulled my head away from her, looked her in the eye, and brought my forehead down into her nose. There was a tremendous crack as my skull collided with the cartilage of her nose. Her head snapped back with blood flowing over her lips as she staggered back a few steps.
I gripped my knif
e tighter, watching as she wavered from the blow.
Blood dripped down my fingers, and I swayed, trying to raise my hands again.
She raised her blade and swung. I moved to avoid it, leaned down, and aimed a punch for her wounded thigh. Her knife arced down, looking for my neck.
I froze, stopping my attack and withdrawing slightly, letting her blade pass by a few centimeters.
I grabbed her wrist, dragging her around with every ounce of strength still in me.
She stumbled, losing control of her momentum.
I slipped my fingers beneath hers and pried the knife out of her grip, plunging the blade into her abdomen. She let out a shriek of pain like nothing I’d ever heard.
The fight had taken us right to the ledge. She turned, her heel catching the raised stonework, and she lost her balance.
I caught her by the collar. A look of shock covered her pretty features.
I dragged her back from the brink, and as she fell into my arms, the butt of the knife in her belly sink further in as it pressed against me.
I felt, rather than saw, all this in Clem. She wrapped her arms around me out of instinct from the fear of falling. Then she stiffened, gripping me tighter until she suddenly went limp, dropping to the ground.
I held her close, gently lowering her to the damp stone.
She raised a weak hand, trying one last time to swipe at my throat with her fingers, but she couldn’t even lift it halfway to me.
“Abby,” she said, her voice shaking.
“I know,” I whispered, sitting next to her, leaving the knife buried in her stomach.
“I can’t believe you—” She swallowed, and I could see blood inside her mouth. “—killed me. I can’t believe you killed me.”
Tears filled my eyes. They were thick and ready like they’d been waiting to burst out of me all day. Maybe they had.
“All I—” She swallowed. “All I wanted—you were all I wanted, Abby. I just—”
“But you had me,” I whispered, stroking her dark hair. “Don’t you remember? I was right there beside you.”