Page 98 of Their Cruel Love

“What?” I whisper.No. No. No.“Fuck! No! Please, don’t do this.” My voice is a quiet squeak. He cannot do this. I do not want him to sacrifice himself. But the horde of men is roaring louder than the sea and running at him. Soon, he’ll be swamped.

I jog backward, my eyes trying to cry, but I refuse to let them. A headache builds as the fastest of the men catches up to where he stands. One tries to go past, and he sidesteps and punches the man off his feet. Two more attack Razor. The blows are fast and when another three arrive and surround him, I lose sight of my man. He isn’t coming, and I just wasted his effort.

The crowd peels away from where he must be lying and three, then four, then more of them are running toward me.

I suck so bad.

I sprint off after Aimee, sand kicking off my heels.

If we get away, maybe there can be justice. He might not be dead. Hope is there, at the rear of my mind, nibbling at me.

He might be alive, but a glimpse through the oncoming pack shows a figure sprawled on the beach, unmoving. No one could hate me more than I hate myself right now.

Why did I come here?

To save a friend. It hasn’t worked. Not in the slightest.

Another question pops up. Where is Marcus?

I pump more power into driving the downthrusts of my legs and hope I can get to where there are those fallen rocks above. I saw those when I descended to the ledge. If nothing else, maybe I can help Aimee. She’s ahead, but I’m catchingup. I can’t maintain this pace indefinitely. She seems more methodical, as if conserving energy for when she needs it most. That might be of benefit if none of our pursuers is good at this.

If.

It would help if there really is a boat.

A wayward rock turns under my foot, and I swear and stumble sideways, hopping on one leg before I decide fuck-it,I have to go. I dash off again. My ankle gives one twinge then it fades.

Do not sprain your ankle.

My strides are just a little longer, and I eat up the distance, edge up to her shoulder. On the way to here, I’ve thought and made my choice. It’s got to be her not me.

My last conversation with Milli has been circling my brain.

I like you. You like me. Some friendships just are.

To the future!She was such a nice person, and nice is everything.

Those chasing us are far enough back that I figure I have time to do what I intend. Only one has pulled ahead of the pack.

Talking while running is never easy.

“Hey.”

She nods at me, keeps going. The sand here is wide enough but twenty yards ahead, no. The fallen rocks make passage across that section a maze.

“I think…we got a message out at two-thirty…to the force.” That covers a lot of possibilities. Mostly though it means, I hope we did.

“Oh?”

The fear in Aimee’s eyes echoes mine, but I’m done with being at fault and wrong. This girl looks enough like Milli—okay, not at all—but she came here for me, and they aren’t letting me go. I’m their target. I can at least try to save her.

“I’m going ahead. I’m climbing up where…there are…rocks. Will delay them. You keep going.”

“Wait. No. Don’t do that.”

“Yes! They want me…not you.” I sprint ahead, my last sprint. My legs need to be able to climb. I keep going, checking overhead, and by the time I reach the right spot, I have time to climb. I pray I can get high enough to make this possible. Broken rocks and branches litter the cliff wall, having lodged on the smallest projections, as well as the strip of beach before me. I weave and pick my path through the debris.

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