Page 95 of The Hive Queen

“Everyone back!” Pen yells and turns to tackle Flint to the ground as the ceiling explodes, raining heavy stone down onto the space where Amalia and the Hive Queen stand, burying them.

walk it off

- Sharpe -

I coughdust from my lungs and shove rubble off my body as I scramble to stand and assess the situation.

A thick cloud of mortar and centuries of dirt fill the air, making it hard to differentiate friend from foe in the figures moving around. A few flashlights lay on the floor, forming hazy spots of brightness, and the giant hole in the roof lets in the moonlight.

An unfamiliar man shuffles toward me, and I shoot the gun still grasped in my hand before I can second guess the decision.

“Pen? Flint?” I wave my free hand in the air in a futile attempt to see better. “Marc?”

Another shot goes off in the shadowed room, followed by O’Hara’s voice. “I have Johannsson by the left wall. We’re both good.”

A groan comes from in front of me, and I shuffle forward. My shoe bumps up against a body, and I kneel to search around.

My fingers find the sleek material of a mask, and I move down the strong column of a throat, pausing long enough to find a pulse before I locate a muscular shoulder and shake it. “Marc. Wake up.”

As he groans and shifts, relief sweeps through me, and I help him sit up. Blood seeps from a wound in his head, and his eyes struggle to focus when they open, but at least he’s alive.

The dust in the air clears gradually, revealing more fallen bodies, both mine and the drones.

Pen and Flint lie in front of the biggest pile of rubble, Pen half on top of him. He groans, one hand lifting, and his head turns toward the mound of fallen roof as a figure walks out of the dust.

I squint at the black-clad man, trying to identify them. “Troy, where are you at?”

Silence fills the line before O’Hara says, “He was by the right wall, close to the Hive Queen when the ceiling came down.”

His earbuds may have been damaged if he was caught in the fall. Hopefully, that’s all it is.

Flint lifts a hand toward the figure as he kneels beside the pair. The man rolls Pen off before grabbing Flint’s upraised arm.

A cough fills my ear before Troy groans, “I’m alive, but my leg is under a big chunk of ceiling.”

My head snaps back toward Flint, my gun raising, but Flint’s body blocks my aim.

Then a sleek, black figure darts forward, like a shark seeking prey, and tackles the figure from the opposite direction. Mayn’s teeth flash in the moonlight as she grasps the man’s head and lifts him before slamming the back of his neck into a large piece of brick.

I kick the rubble out of the way to reach Flint and drag him over to the wall behind Marc before I go back for Pen. She moans as I lift her, and I pull the mask from her face to find the back of her head bloody.

Mayn climbs off the still body of the drone she took down to grab one of our downed people and bring them over while O’Hara hauls Johannsson over.

Flint stirs. “Amalia.”

“I’m sorry, Flint.” I clasp his shoulder. “We’ll dig her body out.”

“She’s not dead.” Marc pushes to his feet. “She’s like a cockroach that way.”

He sways as he finds his balance, then grabs O’Hara. “I’ll help you free Troy and then you can help me dig out our stubborn ass kid.”

“I can help.” Flint’s legs shift against the floor, but there’s no way he’s getting up in his current state.

“Stay with Pen.” I squeeze his shoulder. “I’ll help them.”

Marc turns back to Pen and pulls the fire amulet out from under his shirt.

He takes it off and loops it over Pen’s head, then tucks it beneath her shirt, against her skin. “Take the fire and heal yourself, love. We need you back on your feet.”

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