Page 24 of Protected by the Alien Warrior Triad

Back then, long before I was born, this hospital was a place to go if you were sick or hurt. Now, unless you lived in the Capital, you were shit out of luck.

Hell, even in the Capital you need enough money to pay for treatment, or the hospitals themselves would happily let you die in the streets.

I suddenly freeze in my tracks. Up ahead there’s a Scorp warrior, crushed beneath a fallen beam but still struggling to get up. Forn moves with brutal violence, his feet soft as a mountain cat as he strides over to the beast.

The Scorp’s long tail flicks forward and I gasp in horror. One prick of that barb and Forn will be writhing in lethal pain.

Yet, incredibly, Forn’s hand darts forward andactuallygrabsthat darting tail; clenching his fist around it just beneath the dripping, venomous barb.

With a slash of his Orb-Dagger, he slices the venomous barb clean off. Then he ducks forward and slits the Scorp’s throat.

I shudder at the ease with which these Aurelians kill. It’s both reassuring, and terrifying.

Trying to get the sight of death from my memory, I swallow hard – remembering instead that there’s only one way up to the higher floors of the hospital.

The elevators have long since rotted away, and the second set of stairs completely caved in years ago. Scavengers picked away everything of value in this abandoned hospital, including the support beams.

That’s why the four orphans made a second home here, despite my protests about the rusty nails and the moldy floorboards that I constantly worry they will collapse beneath them.

Yet it wasn’t an entirely bad strategy. This hospital has been abandoned for so long that the easy pickings are long gone – and today, most vagrants avoid the place due to the creepy, abandoned “mental facility” vibe.

Apparently, even the homeless have standards – and there are many more inviting abandoned buildings to squat in.

Or were, I should say. Before today.

Stacy rushes towards the stairway. “No! I’m going first,” I his sternly, and she stops right in her tracks, looking back at me.

Poor Stacy’s used to living a wild and free life, with nobody to boss her around. Aside from myself, adults are a constant danger to her. It sickens me, but I know there are predators out there who view a small girl as an easy target.

Stacy is still frozen on the spot, but she’s biting her lip – as if considering ignoring my order and running up the stairs anyway, to see if her friends are all right.

Eventually, though, Stacy nods and steps back towards me.

The three Aurelians see where I’m looking and walk to the stairs. “Wait!” I yell, but it’s too late. Forn puts his weight on the first step…

…and with a deafening crack, falls straight through it.

He grunts in pain and I see the fresh blood from a big splinter sticking out of his calf. The Aurelian has already taken a bullet wound today, and I know that this fresh injuryhadto hurt – yet he barely seems to acknowledge the pain.

Instead, Forn pulls his leg out from the splintered staircase and – before I can even tend to the wound – roughly tears the shard of wood from his leg.

Green blood spurts out, splatting the broken wood beneath him and sizzling menacingly.

Green, acidic blood? What does it mean? Who are these beastly Aurelians - who don’t speak the common tongue, bleed a different color, and are covered in ornate, tribal tattoos?

The second Aurelian, Hadone, looks like he’s about to repeat the same mistake as his warrior companion. If he tries to walk up the stairs, he’s going to go right through as well. The reason the children chose the hospital as a place to hide is because anything larger than a child would find it difficult – or impossible – to get upstairs.

I can only guess at the weight of the Aurelians – but at over seven-feet-tall, and built with slab-like, powerful muscles, they could easily weigh four or five hundred pounds.

I rush forward, stopping Hadone.

“I’mgoing first,” I say, although I know he won’t understand my words. He pauses then, and I brush past him to take my first step on the stairs. I know they can support my weight, at least.

Then I feel a vice-like grip on my arm. It isn’t Hadone – this time it’s Darok looking at me with dark, serious eyes.

He shakes his head, uttering one word in his guttural language. I can guess what he means.

No.

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