Chapter 13
LIGHT ‘EM UP
Gabriel waited until the truck sped past them before bounding out. His men fanned out, taking up easily defensible positions. Their ammo was low. Their hopes of getting out alive even lower. Still, they would provide all the cover they could, for as long as they could. He prayed it would be enough.
The truck skidded to a halt, the smoking engine finally stalling just as they cleared the dry cleaners. He didn’t have time to focus on what the two people in the truck were doing; he was too busy peppering the first FUD with a spray of bullets.
Judd made it to the other side of the street and was currently engaged with the second FUD. He was shouting directions to Phin. The grenadier had managed to muscle past the two FUDs and was aiming at the Handler, cursing his lack of heavier firearms.
Kneeling behind the corner of a building, Gabriel tried to focus while keeping an eye on each of his men. With no real way to communicate with them, he would have to hope they could anticipate his orders.
Blake’s words were ringing in his ears. The aliens sacrificed agility for their guns. The Handler wouldn’t be difficult to predict, but the FUDs were fast. Chittering and quick, it wouldn’t take much for one of their little T. rex arms to chop a limb off. Or a head.
“Here.” A thick canvas drawstring bag rolled to his feet. It was covered in dirt and blood.
Gabriel turned to see a young man kneeling beside him, wrenching open the bag and handing him fresh magazines. Judging by his uniform, he looked like he was National Guard. Gabriel couldn’t see any more than that because his face was covered in blood.
“Get into the fire station,” he barked, reaching into the bag and taking two magazines, sliding them into the pocket in his pants. “We got medical in there.”
The man had an M16 strapped to his back. He pulled it free and slapped a fresh magazine in. “I can shoot.”
“Can you even see?” he shouted over another burst of gunfire, keeping his eyes on the target.
“I said I can fucking shoot!” he grabbed the bag and took off across the street, head low, blindly firing in the direction of the FUDs.
A blast from the rail gun sent him flying.
The skinny guy didn’t stop, rolling to his feet and limping over to Judd.
He tossed the bag at him, the same as he did with Gabriel, taking up position to cover him while he reloaded.
With one eye on the FUDs, the other on the Handler, he lost track of the kid. But judging from the way Judd whooped with renewed vigor, he’d been resupplied by the quick soldier.
Like a fucking cat, the kid ran through gunfire to make sure they all had enough ammo. Standing beside Phin, he emptied his own gun, eyes wild, his face savage beneath the blood. He must have been one of the guys in the truck, but Gabriel didn’t know where the second had gone.
Phin had the Handler up against a building, but slowing his movement wasn’t a problem. They needed the thing to chase them. Whipping around the building, he jumped the hand railing in front of the nail salon and pounded pavement. One of the FUDs caught the movement, leaping for him.
Slamming on the brakes, Gabriel threw himself backward while the thing slammed into the side of the salon.
Crashing through brick and flimsy drywall, sending a plume of dust and debris raining over him.
Lifting a hand to shield his face, he heard one of the big shoulder guns go off.
Without thinking he rolled into the street, dropping off the curb, and kicking his legs hard to put some distance between him and the FUD.
An explosion rocked him back, sending him flying across the asphalt.
His arm screamed, but he pushed himself up.
Eyelashes thick with dirt, he looked up in time to see the FUD smoking and shaking, whistles turning to shrieks as the Handler’s ordinance ate through its body.
Its arms snapped, shaking, before it collapsed on its face.
“Gabriel, move!” Judd’s voice cut through his haze, and he looked up in time to see the second FUD’s triangular head twist toward him. Its front legs clacked against the pavement, grinding metal across the porous surface.
Getting his feet under him, he lifted his gun just to see the Handler rounding on Phin. It had him pressed back into the alley where he wouldn’t be able to move.
Adjusting his aim, he shot up the back of the Handler. It stilled, head tilting to get a look at him.
The FUD and the Handler were both staring him down, heedless of the bullets pinging off their metal sides.
A spray of water gushed out from the alley, Phin was about to be backed down. Torrential, flooding gallons poured out in a frothy spray only to pool and race across the asphalt. The water drew everyone’s attention, and Gabriel could see the bright red fire tanker peeking out from behind the alley.
Blake appeared holding a pair of jumper cables.
“Get off the street!” he screamed, pressing the cables together so they spat electricity.
The taser.
They made a really, really big taser.
“Get back!” he screamed, running back towards his men. He swung a hand out to grab the bloody National Guard soldier by the front of his plate carrier, dragging him towards the first car he could find.
The spray coming out the back of the tanker slowed. Water pooled down the streets, running in rivulets towards them. The Handler and FUD were soaked by the water, standing in puddles.
Blake dropped the cables.
Electricity crackled across the water, racing towards the confused aliens.
It hit the FUD first. It screeched, head flying back and limbs freezing.
Body tremoring and twitching, its pinchers squeezed until they snapped off.
The Handler tried to move, but it was hit next, frozen in place.
Their noises died off when the current stopped.
The Handler teetered for a moment before collapsing onto the FUD, pinning its limp body to the asphalt.
Gabriel could hardly breathe through the ozone smell and the stench of burning rubber.
Gun trained on the aliens, he tentatively jumped off the car while Judd followed close behind.
He pointed to his eyes and then toward the downed aliens.
Judd nodded quickly, stepping out behind him to surround the bodies.
They didn’t move. Smoke curled into the air, smelling like a grease shop. Swallowing past the smell, he cleared the area, watching the aliens for a long moment before his heart thudded against his chest.
Blake.
Spinning on his heel, he checked the alley.
The tanker filled up the entire space. There would have been no room for Blake to get away from the electricity.
Mouth dry, he raced forward to bound up the truck, slamming the hood down on the exposed jumper cables.
On a knee, he peered into the cracked windshield to find the cab empty.
They’d rigged up the hose from the back of the tanker and zip-tied it to the front of the truck so the water would spray forward, then ran the jumper cables from the battery under the hood.
He didn’t see anyone.
His heart was jackrabbiting in his chest, lungs squeezing. Panic ran down his spine in a cold sweat. Where was he? If he had been shocked, then his body would be—
“Gabriel?”
He jerked at the sound of his name, looking up to see Blake and Phin hanging from an exposed pipe in the crushed wall of the nail salon, just over the truck. They must have leapt off it at the last second to hang from the pipe by their hands.
A sigh of relief punched its way out of his lungs.
His knees felt like jelly. Yanking the jumper cables free, he slammed the hood down and jumped up onto it.
Grabbing Phin’s belt, he helped pull his feet back toward the truck so he could drop down safely.
Grumbling about being ‘too damn heavy for this monkey shit,’ he jumped off to join Judd near the aliens.
Gabriel did the same with Blake. Wrapping his arms around his waist, he pulled him close to his chest, letting his body slide down until his boots touched down on the hood.
His eyes were wide, sweat beading across his temples, brown hair flat against his head.
He was breathing heavily, fingers still curled from where he’d been hanging on for his life.
Like the muscles had permanently cramped in that position and refused to let go.
“That was—” he began, unable to find the words.
“A terrible idea,” Blake huffed, leaning into Gabriel’s grip, his body trembling.
Swallowing thickly, Gabriel realized he was hugging Blake to him. Their bodies were pressed together, Blake’s head fitting nicely just under his chin. He was clutching his wrists, trying to stop shaking.
Gabriel couldn’t stop himself from pulling Blake even closer. He tried to reassure himself by feeling his warmth, the firmness of his body. His hand crept up to the back of Blake’s neck, and he ran his fingers through the soft hairs along his nape. He was safe.
“That was the second time you’ve saved my life.”
Color flooded his cheeks before Blake grinned toothily, pulling away from Gabriel to massage some life into his hands.
He wouldn’t meet Gabriel’s eye. “Make this a habit and I’ll start keeping track.
” He stepped off the truck, landing lightly with a glance back.
“Maybe I’ll make you a punch card or something. Buy ten life saves, get one free.”
Gabriel shook his head. He was so reckless—and damn if he didn’t want to keep him safe.
Gathering himself, he looked past the saucy paramedic to his men standing around the aliens. The injured National Guardsman was holding his side, hunched over as he stared down at the bodies.
Judd grabbed the back of his plate carrier before his knees gave out. Under the blood, his face was deathly pale.
“What’s your name, soldier?” Gabriel asked as he approached them.
Blake muscled past him, lifting the soldier’s head to look in his eyes.