Page 34 of Brood
I try to breathe through the aching tension in my chest. “Okay. But?—”
He’s every bit as tense as I am. Maybe more so. There’s a sheen of perspiration on his forehead and the sides of his nose, and his breathing is so raspy, his nostrils are flaring slightly. “I don’t care who it is or what you hear. I don’t care if it’s time for your work shift to start. You don’t unlock the doors until I come back.”
“I saidokay. I’ll wait for you. But shouldn’t he be restrained by now? Danny said the guards had him.”
“They didn’t bring weapons. If they’re not careful, a feral man is going to get away from them. And Brody…I don’t know. He might be chief of Security, but he’s sometimes gone against me for no clear reason. I don’t trust him. Gus might escape.”
“So what are you going to do?” We turn the corner to the long stretch of empty hallway that leads to the chiefs’ quarters.
He doesn’t get a chance to answer. Alarms begin blaring, and red lights flash all down the hall. “Shit,” he mutters, grabbing for my hand and running.
The alarms indicate a potential danger on the level, and there’s little doubt that danger is Gus having gotten loose. I stumble as I try to keep up with Will. He slows down slightly after that.
I’m not sure I understand why it’s such an emergency. Surely it will take Gus a few minutes to find us.
But as we turn the final corner to our room, Gus rushes toward us, and I squeak. He was clearly a lot closer to our quarters than we were, coming all the way from the Meadow. No one else is around. Just me and Will and a fully feral Gus. He’s tall and lanky with dark auburn hair and freckles. I’ve never said a word to him in my entire life, but he seemed like a relaxed, pleasant person.
He’s not anymore. There’s an animalistic rage on his face as he launches himself at us.
At me.
He’s aiming atme.
Will pushes me into the corner as he blocks the attack with his body. I want to scream, but my throat is too tight to make even the smallest of sounds.
Gus is taller, but Will is broader across the shoulders. He raises his arms to fend off Gus’s fists and manages to level a strong punch that sends Gus stumbling backward.
The blow would have stopped someone in possession of their full faculties. It would have come close to knocking a sane person out. But Gus is far past normal responses. With a loud roar, he throws himself back onto Will, and this time the force of his tackle sends both of them to the floor.
My panic intensifies to such an extent that my brain blurs the violent motion of their bodies. They’re too close together now for any hits or punches. It’s an ugly, frantic wrestling match, and it’s not long before I see blood.
I glance up at one of the cameras positioned at intervals all down the hall. They’re also in every public room of the Refuge. Security will be watching and send guards to the right location to help us with Gus.
Will said Chief Brody is set against him sometimes, but surely he wouldn’t fail to send help on purpose.
At one point, Gus manages to get out from under Will. He starts lifting himself to his feet, his primal snarl aimed at me.
I’m still shaking in the corner of the hallway where Will put me, but I have enough sense to adjust positions. If he comes after me, I’m going to run. There’s no way I’m strong enough to hold out against him. But Will grapples, getting hold of Gus’s arm and dragging him back to the floor so he can’t come after me.
I whimper when Gus wraps his hands around Will’s throat, and for the first time in my entire life, I wish I had a weapon. But weapons were banned even for guards’ regular duties fifty years ago when a feral managed to get their hands on one and kill four people. They’re all locked away in the armory to be used only in an emergency.
If we were in the kitchen, at least I’d have a knife.
Right now, I have nothing. Not any sort of heavy object. Will is struggling against Gus’s chokehold, but he grits out, “Get back…to quarters.”
I start to obey—pure instinct more than anything else—but I don’t get farther than one step. Nothing inside me will let me run away while Will is strangled to death. With a loud sound, I kick hard at the back of Gus’s neck. When he howls, I reach down and grab his shirt, trying to pull him off Will.
The shirt tears off. I end up with fistfuls of the shredded fabric. But it doesn’t matter because the distraction gave Will a moment’s advantage, and he uses it to push Gus off and get on top of him again, holding him face down on the floor with one knee in his back and a hand each on his head and shoulder.
His arms and legs are still flailing, and it worries me. A feral is twice as strong as a regular person. I drop onto the back of his knees so he can’t use them.
“I told you to get back to our quarters.” Will is drenched with sweat and panting. There’s blood on the side of his head. He glares at me over one shoulder.
“I didn’t want him to kill you.”
Maybe Will would have responded to this core truth, but the guards arrive just then, holding tranquilizer guns. When they’ve gotten Gus fully restrained at last, Will pushes himself back to his feet and hauls me up too.
My knees are weaker than they should be, and I slump against him.
