222. Knife Fight
222
Knife Fight
M aya
“How many times do I have to tell you not to underestimate me?” I respond to his offer to hide me away somewhere safe. My tone is full of bravado, even though I know I should probably take him up on his offer.
I’m only alive because of him. If he hadn’t killed those roaches and thrown me over his shoulder, I’d be dead in that hallway outside the movie theater on the Entertainment Deck. I keep thinking I’m a badass to bolster my courage, but I’m not an idiot. I’m still an Admin Assistant to Elizabeth Brighton in her State Farm Office back in Utah.
“Please, Maya. There are nine enemies left. Let me keep you safe.” His words are so earnest, his golden eyes so filled with concern.
My answer is to clutch his hand more tightly and follow him through the space that reminds me of a big-box warehouse.
The pallets are on hover dollies, and after he settles me behind an enormous stack of what appears to be toilet paper, he moves the dollies, creating a fortress around us. The moment we hear someone’s hand on the doorplate, he dives behind our protective barrier, grabs his gun, and looks out through a little tunnel he created between enormous packs of TP.
“Two males,” he narrates, his voice more air than sound. “Reptilians.”
I have a perfect internal visual for this. I saw them when they first emerged from stasis.
“Emotionless killing machines,” I whisper.
“Aye.”
He’s got a bead on them, his finger on the trigger. Why he’s waiting to pull it is anybody’s guess.
The door slams open as three males enter. Since my view is obstructed by the TP, I watch on my pad. Zedd is filming this from every angle. I imagine I’m getting a better view of this than A’Dar.
One of the newcomers moves to the right, one moves left, and the other stays in the middle. Before I have a moment to assess what’s happening, and before the reptilians have a moment to react, the three throw eight-inch knives at the reptilians.
None of the blades makes a killing blow, but the two reptilians have sunk to their knees and are moaning in pain as they desperately try to remove the blades from their torsos. The three intruders don’t spare a moment before they charge at their foes, retrieve their knives from the mortally wounded males, and make short work of slicing the arteries in their necks.
“Blue blood,” is all I can say, too surprised and horrified to say or do anything else.
A’Dar didn’t have time to tell me his strategy, but I understand why he didn’t pull the trigger. He’s giving our enemies a chance to kill each other before he gives away our location.
“Smart,” I praise as I stroke his thigh with affection. I refuse to allow myself to think, even for a moment, that I might lose him in the next few minutes. Nor do I think of my own mortality.
We’re down from 240 enemies to 7. That has to mean something, right?
Three more males enter. Two sharky guys and a red male who looks like the same species as Jahzara Zedd. They’ve sharpened the edges of metal poles and rush the three males who have retrieved their knives.
The trio of knife holders acts as a well-oiled machine as they cut down the three newcomers faster than my eyes can follow the action.
I raise four fingers to A’Dar, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the action.
“Four,” I breathe into his ear. “Four males remain.” And three of them are right in front of us.