“You picked the wrong side,” I tell him. “You’re just a power-hungry lunatic in the middle of a fight you don’t even understand. My sister doesn’t want men like you under her command. She wants true fighters like Wyatt. Jane thinks she’s right about all of this. You just want to dominate. There’s a difference.”
He smiles and his white teeth are stained with his own blood. “You’re right about one thing—you sister isn’t going to win this war, but I definitely didn’t pick the wrong side. Open your eyes, Alexandra. You think this is about right and wrong and getting everything back the way it was. Those days are done. Finished. Only the strong will survive, and unless you’ve got a shot of the juice like your friend does, you’ll never make it.”
I try to come up with a retort, something to argue against his lunacy but Paul lays two hands on his neck and in a blink snaps it to the side. The light goes out of Hayes’ eyes.
“I wasn’t finished talking to him!” I shout, staring at the dead, slumped-over body.
“All he was trying to do was get in your head.”
“You didn’t think I could do it. Kill him,” I say.
“I know what you’re capable of, but I didn’t want you to carry that,” was all he said, brushing his hands on his pants. There are bodies surrounding us but the two most important lay nearby, still breathing. My father pulls himself up on unsteady legs but Wyatt doesn’t move.
“We’ve got to get him out of here,” I say, kneeling by his side. His head is feverish and his breathing shallow. The battle rages on and it’s right outside the walls. Jane’s Fighters up on the fence abandon their posts and jump to the ground. My sister and Chloe are about to lose their hold.
“Take him to safety,” Paul tells me. “Jude and I will find Chloe.”
“What? No. That’s not the plan!” I argue. A whizzing explosive lands near the dumpster and we all crouch down, holding onto each other as it explodes, showing dirt, metal, and debris through the air.
We’re just past the fallout but another one will be coming soon.
“I’ll help,” my father says. Together we lift Wyatt off the ground, each of us bearing an arm across our shoulders.
“Get him to the bunker,” Paul says.
We part and I have the most terrible feeling I’ll never see either of them again. More explosives zoom overhead and Fighters don’t even notice us as they run for their lives. We reach the area behind the building where the small island of shrubs cloaks the bunker entrance, and I hoist Wyatt’s arm over my shoulder again. He’s conscious now, barely holding up any weight, but I talk to him anyway. “Ten more feet. That’s all we’ve got. Ten more feet. I may have to shove you down the stairs, but at least we’ll be out of the war zone.”
He graces me with the tiniest of smiles but any sense of relief is cut short when I look up and run into someone blocking my path.
“Hello, Alexandra,” Chloe says, as though the battle raging around us is nothing more than a gnat buzzing around her face. “I see you’ve brought nothing but destruction and disturbance with you.”
Before I can react, she’s unsheathed an arrow and a sharp blade releases from her compound bow. I push my father and Wyatt behind a bush and hit the ground. It lands in the grass, inches from my foot. I ready my gun.
“Going somewhere?” Chloe asks. Her hair has grown out some since I last saw her, but it’s still close to her head. She seems completely unaffected by the fact all hell is breaking loose around us. I guess it’s easier to feel confident when you’re a genetically modified soldier of the apocalypse. Some of us don’t have that luxury.
“I don’t have time for this,” I shout, squatting behind an electrical box and checking my ammo. It’s been a long night.
“Time for what? You started this.”
I shak
e my head. “No. Jane started it.”
“Yeah, well I’m ending it.”
Another arrow zips past my cheek, sharp feathers cutting across my skin. I duck and try to get an eye on her.
Wyatt groans behind the bush and I wave for my father to cover his mouth. He does so but it’s too late. Chloe starts in their direction. I jump from my hiding spot and take a shot. Her arm jerks backwards and she screams in incredulous shock, more than pain.
“You little bitch,” she seethes. Her face contorts into one of rage and with all amplified speed, she races toward me.
Like a deer in headlights, I freeze, unable to process the force charging at me. Chloe isn’t human and it shows in this moment. Her body is sleek. Her muscles firm. She flies off the ground, kicking me in the gut feet first, and I flail backwards.
She knocks the breath out of my airways and I land hard on the ground, gasping for air while bracing for her wrath. The earsplitting screeching of metal buckling brings me to a sitting position and I watch the fence come down as a huge tank flattens it to the ground. I pat the grass, searching for my weapon, and see Chloe nearby, rolling in the grass with a larger body pinning her to the ground.
“Go!” Cole screams, punching her in the face. She hits back and his jaw snaps to the side. He lunges for her throat, wrapping his hands around her neck. “Go, Alex. Go!”
I do as he says. I race to my father and start pulling Wyatt toward the shelter. With shaky hands and unsteady breathing I push back the fake grass and find the handle. “Get down there,” I tell my dad, who sure enough, basically drops Wyatt down the flight of stairs. He’s exhausted. So am I.