Page 2 of Rescuing Ally: Part 2
“You’re driving like a rookie,” I shout at Gabe over the roar as we lurch forward.
We tear after the others, wind slashing across our faces, gravel biting the wheels. Ahead, Rigel and Ethan swerve, cutting tight around the maintenance shed. Blake and Walt are already veering toward the staff housing shortcut.
The six of us—Charlie team—charging toward Jenna’s apartment like we’re about to breach Heaven’s gates. Wind in our faces. Laughter in our throats.
Gabe floors it.
The engine snarls, and we surge forward.
I brace as we bounce over a pothole, gaining. Fast.
Up ahead, Blake’s cart skids wide, trying to block Rigel’s path. Ethan flips him off mid-turn.
“Left!” I yell.
Gabe yanks the wheel, and we shoot through a gap between the two carts, narrowly missing Blake’s back bumper. Walt whoops behind us, the sound swallowed by wind and the crackle of tires on gravel.
The trees blur in our periphery—tall, dark sentinels flashing past in streaks of shadow and moonlight.
We’re neck and neck by the time Jenna’s building appears.
Gabe hits the brakes hard, skidding into a perfect slide. We may have started last, but that’s definitely a win.
Everyone piles out laughing, breathless, adrenaline still firing through our veins.
“You clipped us at the finish,” Rigel says, brushing dust from his shirt.
“Clipped you? We flew past.” Gabe grins.
“Dream on,” Walt mutters. “And gear checks? That’s all yours, Ethan.”
“Like hell,” Ethan fires back, pointing at the dirt smudged across Gabe’s front tire. “He cheated the inside line.”
“Still got the job done,” Gabe says, climbing out. “That’s what matters.”
We head toward the building together, still laughing, the good-natured ribbing rolling easily between us.
Overgrown kids with scars, bonded by fire, forged in chaos, and racing to the women who’ve somehow made warriors like us believe in something more.
We pile into the lift. Someone makes a crack about Walt’s snoring. Gabe jabs back with a story that has Blake snorting.
The elevator ride up is filled with banter, half-laughed threats, and silent anticipation. When the doors open, I step into the hallway, and silence slams into me like a freight train.
The air. Too still.
The hall. Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that isn’t empty. Itscreams.
Gabe freezes beside me. The others follow, the weight of silence smothering every joke, every grin.
Ethan’s arm shoots out, halting Walt. Rigel’s gaze sweeps the corridor.
No sounds bleed into the hallway. No laughter. No music. Just a vacuum.
Hollow.
My hand drifts toward my sidearm without thought. Gabe tenses beside me.
