Defiance Rising (7 page)

I spin and sprint for the back of the warehouse, straight for the gaping hole in the back of the factory.
 
I can hear Bastien’s feet pounding on the second floor and catch a brief glimpse of him as he rounds the far stairwell and thunders up to the third floor.

I pause to search for Drakon.
 
Blood drips down from his temple and his nose is bent at a crooked angle.
 
His hands clench into fists at his side.
 
I’ve never seen such evil before, such unrepentant fury.

I turn and run for my life.
 

Five

I clutch my arms around my knees as a trembling reverberates through me.
 
I begin to rock, thinking of how close I came to enslavement…or worse.

What happened back there?

I hold up my hands before my eyes but they remain unseen in the dark.
 
Traces of heat linger in my fingertips, as if the fires might spark to life again.
 
I clasp my chest as pain continues to radiate around my heart.

Something is wrong. I can feel this truth buried deep within my core.
 
I’ve never lost my cool before.
 
Never come so close to unbridled rage.
 
I shake my hands and clench them into fists.
 
What is happening to me?

What about Bastien?
 
Did he make it out ok?

I can hear the aliens in the distance, coordinating a search for us.
 
I don’t have long to linger, but I can’t seem to make my legs work properly.
 
My mind refuses to think on anything but the way I tore a staircase off its hinges and hurled it across the room, or the way I shoved that machine with my mind.

I killed those aliens.

I can’t find it in me to regret my actions.
 
I only wish I could understand them.

The pounding of my heart is nearly loud enough to drown out the sound of the aliens approaching.
 
I push back on the wall to rise, stomping the blood back into my legs before I sprint through the alley and burst through the other side.
 

Shouts rise behind me and I know they’re on my trail.
 
I don’t know how many are coming after me, but all that matters is that I get out of there quickly.

Block after block blurs past.
 
I scour the streets, searching for an entrance to the subway.
 
If I can get down there I might stand a chance, but luck is obviously not on my side.
 
I don’t see any way of getting underground.
 

I glance back over my shoulder and see emerald light glowing a couple blocks back, dancing onto the walls as the aliens run.
 
They are faster than I am.
 
Whatever power it was that I tapped into back at that factory has left me weak and vulnerable.
 
I have to hide.

I grab a metal street sign and sling myself around the corner of a building.
 
It’s hard to maintain a full out sprint with a cramp forming in my side.
 
My pace slows to a lurching run and then a fast walk.
 
I clutch my chest as my lungs constrict, making it nearly impossible to draw a full breath.
 

Spying an alley halfway down the street, I hook right and race to the end.
 

“This can’t be happening!” I slam my open palms against a chain link fence that blocks the exit.
 
It rises high overhead, and a spiral of spiked wire runs the length of the top.
 
I turn and press back against the rusted fence, curling my fingers around the wire as I peer behind a large green container with a large, weathered sign that says GARBAGE on its side.
 
No signs of rats or any other foul vermin so far.
 

The scent of trash has long since faded.
 
A large hole gapes open on the lower right side of the container and a fine dirt mixture pours out from within.
 
I grasp a handful of soil and breathe in deep.
 
It is compost, something I’m very familiar with from growing up in the forest.

I peer around the edge of the container and listen.
 
Boots slap the sidewalk as they approach.
 
There’s no time to run.

Glancing back at the rusted hole, I decide to take my chances with the dirt.
 
I wiggle inside headfirst, scratching my hip as I pass.
 
I tuck my lower lip behind my teeth as I grip the floor and pull myself through.
 
The edges of the metal hole scrape layers of skin from my sides and I bite down hard on my lip to still my cry.

Shouts rise from the end of the alley, and I rush to bury myself in the garbage remains.
 
The soil is cold and the metal floor frigid against the narrow swatch of skin at my waist where my shirt has risen up.
 
Goosebumps rise along my body as I wiggle down as low as I can go.

I manage to get my lower half completely covered but my top half will be difficult.
 
There isn’t enough soil left to completely hide in.

“Any sign of her?”
 
My head whips up as I struggle to hear through the thick metal box.
 
The voice is loud but muffled by the walls.

“I could have sworn she came this way.”
 
The alien’s tone is raspy, hardened with age.
 
If he were human, I would’ve said that he’d smoked one too many dogwood bark cigarettes.
 

“Maybe she doubled back?
 
I heard Commander Drakon was close to getting his hands on the boy.
 
Maybe she went back for him?”

The second voice is higher in pitch, not all that unlike a girl’s voice.
 
I’ve always wondered how young the Caldonians start out their soldiers.
 
By the sounds of it, the boy can’t be a day over fifteen.
 

Suddenly, a tickle begins in my nose as the dirt shifts.
 
My pulse shoots up as I plug my nostrils and pray that I can hold off my sneeze until the aliens leave.
 

“Think we should head back?”

I can hear their boots shifting on a mixture of glass and rubble out on the street.
 
I close my eyes and hope that they’ll just leave.
 

“The Commander will have our heads if we’re wrong.”
 
The older soldier’s gruff response sends my hopes plummeting into cold oblivion.
 
I suck in a deep breath and wait.

The sneeze escapes before I can stifle it.
 
I cup my mouth and clamp my eyes closed, straining to hear.

“What was that?”
 
Footsteps shift on the street and I’m sure that they know exactly where I am.
 
“Came from down there.
 
Let’s check it out.”

I rip my shirt over my head and rub dirt into the material, tearing at the frayed ends of the shirt to create long, wide ravels.
 
I scrub the dark compost all over my face, chest and abdomen to hide my pale skin.
 
I rub my head along the floor, matting my sweaty hair with refuse.

Their approach is slow and cautious.
 
I can see the bouncing light of their lasers as they draw near.
 
Draping my torn shirt over my chest and head, I sprinkle compost over it.
 
I bury my arms into the soil and focus on taking tiny breaths.
 
I wish I could see myself from above to know if any part of me is visible.
 

The scrape of a boot beside the dumpster and the rattle of the chain steal away my breath.
 
Terror roots me to the metal floor as I suck in my stomach and pray that my concealment looks natural.
 

“I don’t see anything.”
 
The man’s voice is loud enough to sift through the hole at my feet.

My lungs burn but I continue to suck in only partial breaths.
 
I can’t risk another sneeze now that I’m buried in this shallow grave.

I clamp my eyes tightly closed as a bright light pierces through the hole.
 
“See anything?”

Shifting just enough to get my arm behind my back, I pull out my gun.
 
My finger hovers over the trigger, ready to take out these aliens the instant I’m discovered.
 

Seconds seem to drag by with agonizing indifference to my predicament.
 
“Nah.
 
Just some dirt and crap.
 
She’s not here.”

I allow a tiny breath of relief as the light vanishes.
 
The chain link fence rattles as someone kicks it.
 
“Darn cats are a nuisance.”

“Now what, Tuz?”

The older alien, Tuz I presume, spits.
 
The glob splatters against the dumpster and I scrunch up my nose with disgust.
 
“We keep looking.
 
She can’t have gone too far.”

I wait to take my first deep breath until the sounds of their retreat have completely vanished.
 
My fingers uncurl from my palms, leaving stinging half-moon cuts.
 
I tear my shirt away from my face and sit up, gasping for breath as my lungs expand to full capacity.
 

Compost shifts down my body as I rise to a crouch.
 
My pants are filthy, my hair is clumped with compost, and my skin itches in more places than I care to count.
 
I pull my shirt down over my head and take in the damage.
 

The jagged hem of my black shirt is now about two inches shorter in places.
 
Large rips lead up my sides and one up the center of my stomach, stopping scant inches from my chest.
 
“Good thing no one’s going to see me like this,” I mutter as I wiggle back through the hole.
 

Fresh blood and dirt mingle in the wounds as I rise.
 
I cup my hand over my right side, knowing I pulled a bit too far to the right.
 
The wound is deeper than before.

I take the alley at a run, keeping to the deeper shadows until I reach the end of the street.
 
I poke my head out and survey both ways.
 
No signs of my pursuers, but I’m sure they’re not too far away.

I sweep the roofline in search of which direction to head.
 
The moonlight breaks through small openings in the cloud cover, lending just enough light so I won’t face plant into a wall.
 
I can see the glow of the City above, gaining brightness behind me.
 
A rumbling rises from the ground, intermittent but increasing in intensity.
 
I peer down the street and see a towering shadow gaining purchase on the buildings several blocks away.
 
I don’t know what it is but I’m not sticking around to find out.
 
I sprint straight across the street and flee to the darkness.

Wooden boards creak underfoot as I climb a set of rickety stairs.
 
The banister rocks under my grasp, threatening to collapse onto the floor below.
 
I cling to it, unsure if it is holding me upright or vice versa.
 

The wallpaper on the stairway wall is faded, concealing its original design.
 
It peels away from the weathered molding near the ceiling.
 
The plaster behind is cracked from evidence of water damage.
 
Everything feels dingy and almost sticky to the touch.
 

My steps are labored, echoing through the abandoned housing building.
 
Exhaustion shrouds me as I round the second floor and struggle up the next flight of stairs.
 
The landing is blanketed with tile shards that poke up into my shoes as I pass.
 
A large, glassless window at the end of the hall allows in shifting beams of moonlight.
 
What was probably once a white cushioned window seat just below has deteriorated to a moldy lump.
 
I scrunch up my nose at the obvious evidence of rodent habitation.