Candle bent down and picked up the axe from the mercenary he had killed. “I can do more than just distract—”
“No time to wait for them. We’ve got to move.” Roman dashed to the Security Ministry. Most of the windows on the first floor had been boarded up; he moved to one that was still empty. He leapt up, landing with one boot on the window frame, and was halfway through before he saw the crossbow pointed directly at him. He tumbled backwards, out the window, and landed hard on his back as a crossbow bolt pierced the air where he had been a second before.
Groaning, he sat up. His spine and neck made a series of popping sounds as he turned to Candle, who was smirking at him. “This time,” Roman said, “you can go first.”
In one swift motion, Candle dived through the window. Someone inside began to scream. It was cut off a second later. Roman heard a crash, wood breaking, and the clang of steel striking concrete. Now a half dozen people inside were screaming.
Roman waited, letting Candle clear most of the room. From his brief glance inside, he had spotted at least ten guards. He watched the militia returning from across the square. They were only fifty yards away now. Deciding it wasn’t much safer out here than it was in there, he climbed through the window into the Ministry, knowing that, this time, he most likely wasn’t coming back out.
Sparks pressed his face against the bars of his cell door, trying to see what the commotion was about. A dozen militia had arrived about half an hour ago, and now another group had turned up. They huddled together, speaking in panicked whispers. Sparks couldn’t make out their words, but the tone was clear: they were anxious.
“Has this ever happened before?” Sparks asked Bruise, who appeared entirely indifferent to the situation. The two of them had barely spoken since Sparks had first arrived — that might have been six hours ago, or six days. There was no way to be sure. All Sparks’ knew was that it felt like forever.
“They made a big fuss after the scientist helped that guy escape,” Bruise said. “But the next day everything was back to normal.”
“Well, this is different then.” Sparks watched another militia rush down the hallway and join the rest. “This could be our chance to get out of here.”
“Believe me, kid, there’s no way in hell to—”
“Shut up. For one, I’m not a kid. And secondly, stop saying ‘believe me’ like you’re some wise mentor. You’re just a pathetic old man who doesn’t even want to fight anymore.”
Bruise shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I’m not right.”
“Doesn’t mean I won’t kick your teeth out and shove them up your nose.”
Bruise shuffled back into the shadows.
The militia went quiet. They hurriedly moved to the sides of the hallway, as if making a path for someone. One of them finally spoke loud enough for Sparks to overhear, “The Captain’s coming.”
Sparks redoubled his futile efforts at slipping his head between the bars to get a better view. Although he wanted more than that — he wanted to fit his whole body through, run past the militia, grab Juliette by her hair and see how well her head fit through the bars.
She strode down the hallway, flanked by two huge brutes who both shared the same square face and blond hair. Brothers? They each looked like they weighed four times Sparks’ weight, and none of their bulk was in fat. Sparks opened his mouth to shout an insult and get Juliette’s attention, but he realized she was already headed straight for his cell.
Juliette stopped just out of his reach, folding her arms as she glared at him, lips pursed. Sparks was pleased to see the side of her face was bruised from where he had slammed her against the wall.
“You’re going to regret bringing me here,” Sparks spat.
She nodded to one of the two militia who came with her. “He’s the one. Take him.”
The man stepped forward and pulled a key from his belt. Sparks stepped back from the door as the man unlocked and pushed it open. Sparks dashed forward, ducking under the militia’s first blow and countered with a punch to the gut. The militia barely seemed to notice, and his fist came around a second time. Again, Sparks was too quick, sidestepping away, then driving his knee into the militia’s groin. That had more of an effect. Sparks scurried around him and lunged towards Juliette.
The second militia tackled him from the side and sent them both sprawling to the ground. Sparks struggled to get on top, but he had a vast disadvantage in size. The militia pinned Sparks’ arms against the floor and drove his forehead into Sparks’ nose.
Sparks felt — and heard — his nose break. Hot, metallic-tasting blood clogged his throat. His eyes watered and his ears rang.
“Grab the other one too.” Juliette’s voice. “We want them both.”
The other one: Bruise. Sparks blinked, trying to clear his eyes and head. His skull felt like it had split into shards that were now digging into his brain. It was impossible to think clearly. She doesn’t need two Adrenalites to power the machine. So what does she want us for?
Why me?
And why Bruise?
Ruby watched Roman enter the Ministry. Don’t you dare fucking die. She imagined her thoughts could reach him. If you do, I’ll never forgive you.
She reached into the quiver hanging from her waist. In one smooth motion, she drew an arrow, nocked it, and pulled back her bowstring. A handful of militia were running back towards the Ministry. She selected the one in front as her next target. Taking a slow breath, Ruby carefully considered how much the arrow would fall mid-flight; how far the militia would have moved by the time the arrow reached him; and how the northern breeze would affect the shot.
It wasn’t easy — at least, it wouldn’t have been easy for anyone but her.
She fired, and was already aiming her next shot when the arrow struck its target between his shoulder blades. He stumbled two steps before collapsing. The rest of the militia hastily spread apart and switched to running in zigzag paths, making her next shot harder.
She released two more arrows; the first missed, the second caught a mercenary in the leg. She reached into her quiver for another arrow but found it empty. Damn. She moved her hand to her second quiver, hung over her back. She wasn’t finished yet.
A gunshot rang out behind her. “They’re here,” Caleb shouted.
Hopefully, she had brought Roman enough time. Ruby turned from the window and rushed to join Caleb crouching behind at the barricade they had set up at top of the stairs. She peered over the top of the overturned desk. A dead militia lay at the bottom of stairs, blood pouring from a hole in his forehead. Another stuck her head around the corner, quickly ducking back when he saw Ruby watching.
“Good shot,” Ruby muttered to Caleb. “That’ll give them pause before they charge us.”
“Won’t take them too long before they take the risk, and I’ve only got two bullets left.”
“Make them count.”
Ruby stood up, drew another arrow, and took aim at where the militia had poked his head around. As soon as she caught a glimpse of movement, she fired. The militia pulled back just in time, and the arrow bounced off the wall with a clang.
Caleb pulled his machete from his belt. “If they get close, just let me do the talking.”
“We shared the cigarette, might as well share the killing too.”