Page 75 of Catching Camila

John

Friday 9:06 a.m.

John dove into the beast's path.

Their bodies collided like a head-on car crash. There was a crunch in his neck and instant pain. His fingers found fur and grabbed on. The two spilled into the hallway, skidding, denting the far wall. Ceiling tiles raining down in chunks of white. An elbow cracked into John's skull, then claws sunk into his bicep. The white-hot flare of pain. John wrapped his arms around the beast's and locked them in a bear hug.

Camila. Where was she?

They grappled, the thing rolling, lurching to escape. It slammed them into the freezer, sending the hunk of metal smashing into a far wall. Its matted mane was in his face, gagging him. The smell was terrible, like a long-dead animal. The beast's arms flexed over and over again as it attempted to break John's grip. Though his muscles burned like hell, John held on like a cowboy at his last rodeo.

“Get…out!” he shouted at the humans. All he could see was a shaggy mane of fur and scaly shoulders, but he knew they were standing somewhere behind him, gaping. His grip was already loosening, fingers slipping like a climber on a cliff's edge. A shoulder mashed into John's jaw, his head snapping back. Hot blood filled his mouth. Something wet and stringy dripped on John's arm as the beast tossed its head back and forth. It growled and shook. John's fingers slipped another notch. He had to get these humans out.

Camila ran over. “John!” she screamed. She grabbed a metal ice cream scoop from the counter and whacked the beast in the head. It shook and turned toward her, its eyes searching.

“Run!” he shouted, spitting mane from his mouth. The beast clawed against the floor, nails scratching the tile, pushing both their bodies backward. John locked his fingers, but he knew he had only seconds left. The beast placed his paw on John's thigh and dug downward. Claws sliced into the meat of his leg. More pain. John ignored it. The beast would go for Camila. It would go for the kill.

“Run, Camila! Please!” His fingers slid apart. He searched the room for her, behind the mane of hair that pressed into his face. She was there at the door, staring at him, fear etched into her face. Fer tugged at her arm, but she pulled away. She stopped, staring. John pleaded with his eyes. Go! He couldn't watch the beast tear into her. He opened his mouth to speak, but the beast jammed an elbow into John's ribs. His breath tore out of his throat, pain tightening his torso. He flexed his arms to the breaking point. He'd hold this thing until they were torn off if that's what it took.

A scream tore from the doorway. John snapped his head around. Nomad stood, bathed in light with Camila clamped in his arms.

Nomad stepped into the destroyed ice cream shop. His fingers tightened around Camila's bare arm, puckering her flesh. “Let him go,” Nomad said coolly, “or I crush her right here in front of you.” Nomad squeezed until Camila gasped in pain.

“Okay, okay,” John said. He couldn't think. Camila's cries of pain echoed in his head. He released his arms. The beast rolled away and stood, panting, claws out, eyes wild. John backed away slowly with his hands up. “Let Camila go,” he said, flicking his eyes between his enemies.

Nomad shook his head, smiling as he tightened his grip. Camila's face twisted in pain. She locked eyes with John.

“Stop it!” John shouted, striding forward.

His arms were wrenched behind him. John struggled, but the beast's arms were iron. Its scaly chest pressed into John's back.

Nomad held his ground. “Why wouldn't you listen to me when I told you to stay away from her in the first place, Jopari?”

John stared into Camila's face. She stared back, her brown eyes filling with tears. “Don't worry about me,” she whispered.

“I will,” he said, his voice trembling. “I will always worry about you.”

“Enough.” Nomad’s eyes were dark and hallow.

John slumped in the beast's arms. “Fine,” he whispered.

He looked up at Camila. Her eyes pleaded with him to make this all better. His heart was crumbling like a brittle sandcastle, but he knew what he had to do. He sucked in a shuddering breath and looked up at Nomad. “Okay. Let's go. No tricks this time.”

Nomad released his grip on Camila. She sagged as if the wind had been sucked from her sails.

“Give me your wrists,” Nomad said, pointing. John complied. Nomad snapped on thick cuffs made of some shimmering metal material. “Try to wiggle all you like, compadre. They're Cartharian steel, strong enough to hold the likes of you ten times over. The favors I had to do to get these…” Nomad nodded toward the door. “Let's go before the 5-0 get here.”

John turned and followed Nomad. He told himself not to, but he stole one last look at Camila. It was like someone digging out his heart with their hands. She sat, slumped on the floor, mud-caked sneakers tucked under her, hair trailing in front of her face. Tears snaked down both cheeks. “John.” She lifted a hand, reaching for him.

John choked back the sadness. She'd be safe. Her mother would be free. She'd be better off without him. He wouldn't hurt her anymore.

He turned to Nomad. “Can I say goodbye?”

Nomad shook his head and continued to press John toward the door. “It's best if we just go. Don't make this suck any harder. If we hurry, we can catch a corn dog on the way.”

“What about that…that thing?” John craned his neck as Nomad shoved him into the alley. John's eyes found the dumpster, the first place he'd seen her. He dropped his head. He'd get back to her. Somehow he'd—

Grinding metal echoed loudly behind him. John whirled around.

Nomad slammed the door back in its casing. Red beams shot out of his eyes and began to weld the metal shut.

“What're you doing?!” John asked, scrambling around.

Nomad pushed back on John's chest. “Let’s go. You don't want to be here for this.”

John stumbled toward the closed door. “You said she wouldn't get hurt!” he nearly screamed. “You promised!”

Nomad shook his head as he gripped John's shirt. “I wouldn't call it a promise. Anyway, it's protocol. I just do what I'm told.”

Inside, Camila screamed.

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