“We need to get Spencer.” Roman pulled Tan in what he hoped was the direction of the gate which led to Gavin’s cells.
“Honestly, I’d rather we get the hell out of here.”
“No. This is our chance.”
Tan pulled against him. “Stupid, stupid idea. We need to go.”
“I’m not leaving without Spencer.” Roman pushed Tan away and ran. He collided with someone, stumbled, and nearly slid over. Was that blood on the floor? He pushed on, barging past another unseen person.
“It’s this way.” Tan grabbed Roman and steered him in a different direction.
Roman felt a rush of gratitude that Tan had followed him. “Thanks.”
“If you’re going to die, at least you’re going to die with me beside you to say: I told you so.”
Roman spared a quick glance behind. An Adrenalite crouched five paces away, the light from its chest illumined the bloody corpse beneath it. Roman spun around and fired. Two shots.
There was no time to check if he had been hit. Ears ringing and eyes blinded by the flashes of light, he turned and fled.
“Over here!” Tan’s voice. Roman followed it.
He ran face first into the wall. The impact made the dozen aches in his body burst back into life. He grabbed his nose, more pain flared — definitely broken. With a grunt, he pushed it back into place.
A hand grabbed his coat and pulled him sideways. “Not there, idiot,” Tan said. “Here.”
Tan pulled him through the gate. The darkness was absolute. Roman ran his hand along the wall as they ran, feeling for side doors. The screams began to fade.
Tan stumbled. “Ugh. Stairs,” he muttered.
They carefully descended. The air grew stale and cold. Roman anxiously thought of Ruby. Hopefully, she had left the Haven before Candle’s Adrenalites had attacked. Surely she wouldn’t have tried to stay, would she? If anything had happened to her…
Below them, the wall was dimly lit.
With blue light.
Roman raised his gun as they pulled to a halt. He slowly stepped forward, brushing past Tan. The light grew brighter. Hurried footsteps echoed against the walls, getting steadily louder. Roman’s pulse hammered in his ears.
“Maybe it’s a friendly, kind, helpful Adrenalite,” Tan whispered.
“I’m not going to take the time to find out.” Roman closed one eye, holding his gun steady.
The Adrenalite sprinted the corner, springing into view just three yards in front of them. Roman aimed into the centre of the light and fired.
The Adrenalite screamed, harsh and guttural. Still he came on. Roman fired again, catching his target in the shoulder. The Adrenalite stumbled, tripped on a stair and collided into Roman. They fell back onto the stairs. Roman’s head hit a step, hard. His vision flashed blinding white. He tried to raise his gun, but a hand grabbed his wrist and held it down.
There was a glint of steel. Warm blood splashed onto Roman’s face. The Adrenalite went still.
“Bloody hell,” Tan muttered. “It takes a bit to kill these bastards sometimes.”
Roman blinked, trying to recover his composure. In the dying blue light, he could just make out the image of Tan wiping blood off one of his knives and onto his pants. Grunting, Roman pushed the limp body off and read the four letters tattooed upon its neck — BX56. It wasn’t Candle. This was just a boy. Roughly Sparks’ age. Dark blood spilled from his neck where Tan had sliced it open.
“Let’s keep going,” Roman said, using the wall for support as he stood.
Tan let out an exaggerated sigh. “I hate to point this out, but there was already one of the devils down here, so there’s probably more. And they’ve probably already released Gaven’s fighters.”
“So we have to hurry.” Roman grabbed Tan by the arm and climbed down the stairs, turning the corner the Adrenalite had come around. No sign of anybody else. Everything was pitch black and silent. He kept one hand holding Tan and the other outstretched ahead of him, feeling his way forward. How deep did this place go?
“Hey, Boss,” Tan whispered, “do you remember when I said that I liked the fact you tried stuff?”
“Vaguely.”
“Well, I take it back. You need to stop trying shit. It’s dangerous. I got my hair cut off!”
Despite their situation, Roman chuckled. “Sorry about that.”
“You owe me a drink for this. A dozen bloody drinks.”
“Wait.” Roman stopped, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Do you see that?”
There was light ahead.
Warm, orange, flickering light.
16
Sparks opened his eyes. His breath came in heavy gasps, lungs burning with each gulp of air. The pounding in his chest resonated throughout his entire body. With each pulse, his pains were brought into sharper focus; the piercing shrieks from the bullet wound in his side; the throbbing in his shoulder; the ache in his left leg.
How long had he been lying here? He remembered the tower falling, but after that, it was all a blur.
Looking down at himself, he had to raise a hand to shield his eyes from the light. His entire body was covered with rivers of it. One of his boots was missing entirely and the light reached the end of his toes. It lit up the wreckage around him with a deep blue aura. He ran his hand down his chest, scraping through the rain, dust, and blood.
He gazed at the destruction. The ground rose and fell in hills of rubble. The steel tower had landed half a dozen yards away, twisted in wires. Sparks noticed one wire inches from his bare foot. He jerked away.
Everything outside his circle of light was lost in darkness. Sparks crawled forward on his hands and knees, hunting for the militia who had shot him. There was no movement, or sound, in the shadows. He felt horribly exposed, lit up like a beacon, waiting to be shot again. Was the militia watching him right now, lining up a shot?
Oh. Sparks stopped when he saw the militia. No, he’s definitely dead. The corpse was tangled in fallen wires, mouth wide in a soundless scream, eyes open and staring at the sky. Sparks pulled a rude gesture at him — it hurt to lift his arm, but it felt worth it.
Slowly, Sparks pulled himself to his feet. One step. Two steps. Which way should he go? The only thing around was rubble. Choosing a direction at random, he set off, struggling not to slip on the wet ground.
He slowed his breathing, calming the thumping in his chest to a steady rhythm. He ran a hand over the bullet hole, grimacing. The pain flared at even the slightest touch, but the bleeding had stopped. Being activated meant he would be healing inhumanly fast.
He heard yelling coming from somewhere to his right. A deep, gravelly voice. Caleb?
He thought about calling back but realized he didn’t need to make himself any more obvious — was literally the only source of light for miles. So he sat, lent against one of the steel cubes that had fallen over, and waited.
His fingers closed over a small chunk of concrete, clutching it tightly. If that voice wasn’t Caleb…
Movement in the shadows slowly began to form the shape of a man, and there was only one man in Legacy that size. Caleb stepped into the light. “You really outdid yourself this time, kid,” he said, frowning.
“I knocked down one wall! Honestly. The rest of it just… um…”
“Fell over in the rain?”
“It was unstable to begin with, I swear. Anyway, I turned the power off, didn’t I?”
“I reckon you did.” Caleb shrugged, kneeling beside Sparks and shuffling through his satchel. He pulled out a defoxican needle.
Sparks pushed the needle away. “Get rid of that shit.”