Chapter 19
SANDY
One moment Gabriel was with Tommy, desperately holding a hand to Phin’s bleeding knee while Tommy shouted at him to stop moving, and the next, he was looking up to see Blake streaking through a warzone.
For an insane moment, he thought he was hallucinating. That the haze of heat and the knocks to the head had finally gotten to him, and the thing he desired the most was coming for him. But then he blinked and realized it was no hallucination, and Blake wasn’t running toward him at all.
And in his arms was a propane tank.
“Blake!” Gabriel screamed, but it was too late. The medic had thrown the tank into the fire, and then he’d vanished, hidden behind a rush of fighting aliens. He lurched to his feet; only Phin grabbing him by the back of his plate armor had kept him from rushing to him.
“Ga—Commander! You can’t!” he groaned as he leaned over his bad knee to keep his oldest friend from leaping into the fray.
Gabriel didn’t care. He slapped Phin’s hand away, but then Tommy grabbed his arm, tugging him down with his body weight. “Wait! Look!”
Blake was on his feet, but he was curled around his midsection, one arm wrapped protectively around his ribs. He was shouting at someone. Gabriel traced his line of sight to Judd and Victoria. They had their weapons drawn.
And it all clicked.
“No!”
It was too late. Judd squeezed the trigger, and the tank blew. He lost sight of Blake in an explosion of flames and heat. It was only Tommy who dragged him down that saved him from the shrapnel—fragments of tank and whatever else was in the burning pile rained down on them.
“We have to go,” Tommy said, his voice stern. With strength Gabriel didn’t know the skinny kid had, he hauled Phin to his feet.
Wiping crap from his eyes, he could see Tommy was right. Blake had given them an exit.
The aliens that had congregated around them were blown apart; some injured, others confused. But right there, in the middle of it all, was an open street.
Tommy grunted under Phin’s weight, trying to help him across the street. Looking over his shoulder, Gabriel felt the tug of responsibility. Tommy would never be able to get the big grenadier across fast enough. But he wanted to go to Blake. Needed to get to him.
Swearing, he stepped under Phin’s other arm and partially ran, partially dragged the two across the street.
The asphalt was warped from the heat, large cracks and sink holes dotted around them like land mines.
They couldn’t run in a straight line, and every step that took him away from Blake was agony.
Judd was halfway into the street, one arm extended. He grabbed Phin, hauling the three of them over the curb and behind the wall. They landed in a heap, but Gabriel was up, spinning just as Victoria cursed.
Across from them, a Monkey Cat had been thrown into a wall. Silently, it shook itself free of dirt, legs wobbling as it got to its feet. Sheets of drywall and rebar fell off its sides as it planted its feet to challenge a FUD.
The two quadrupeds circled each other. The FUD was chittering, pinchers snapping with mechanical clangs. The Monkey Cat was quiet, save for its claws scraping on the ground.
And between them, covered in dust, lay Blake.
He was obviously out cold, partially buried beneath the fallen wall. All Gabriel could see were his legs, but it was enough. Running, he lifted his gun and let loose. A spray of bullets peppered the FUD and Monkey Cat.
The FUD, unwilling to turn its back on the Monkey Cat, swerved to the side to watch Gabriel run.
Unbothered by the bullets, it was the opening the Monkey Cat needed.
It leapt, grabbing the FUD by the neck. Its bifurcated jaw clamped on so tight the metal screeched.
The FUD wailed. It sounded like rusty hinges.
Shaking the FUD back and forth, the Monkey Cat’s big, clawed feet stomped closer to Blake’s body.
Gabriel screamed as his gun clicked, empty.
A drone whizzed by, and he heard a Handler begin to brace.
He looked over his shoulder in time to see the Handler aim straight for the battling Monkey Cat and FUD.
Gabriel dropped his gun to the end of its safety strap—pushing himself to run faster. But he heard the rail gun go off.
So did the Monkey Cat. At the last second, it swerved, using the FUD as a shield. The thing shrieked as it was hit with friendly fire. The blow was enough to knock them both backward.
His boots skidded, rubber shredding as he threw himself on Blake. Bits of broken metal and debris rained onto his back. Under him, the medic wasn’t moving. Gabriel grabbed him, hauling him into his lap. “Blake!” he shouted, hands desperately feeling his chest for something—anything.
Blake was limp, his face lolling with Gabriel’s jerking.
Blood seeped from a cut in his hair, dribbling fresh and red through the dust on his face.
He looked serene. Hysterically, Gabriel had the thought that he might be named after an angel, but Blake looked like one.
Even injured and dirty, his sharp features couldn’t be disguised.
Gabriel stroked Blake’s dirty hair back from his face. “Wake up! I need you to wake up!” his voice cracked.
And then he saw it. The dust on his lips fluttered. It was faint, but he was breathing. Brushing his face, Gabriel shook him. “C’mon, Blake. Baby, please. Open your eyes!” his thumbs stroked his cheeks, feeling the grit under his skin.
Distantly, he was aware that the fighting had resumed. The Handlers had taken an offensive position and were pushing the Monkey Cats back under a barrage of concentrated fire. In a few moments, they would be right on top of them.
Blake’s eyes fluttered open, and Gabriel could suddenly breathe. He gasped, clutching Blake to him as he began to regain his senses.
“Ouch,” he groaned.
“Trust me, that’s a good thing,” Gabriel assured him, cupping his cheek to turn Blake’s face to him. His eyes were glazed, unfocused. But he was awake. Whole. Breathing. Alive.
Gabriel could work with that.
Without asking, he hauled Blake up. He crouched, ready to pick him up and carry him, but the medic slapped his hand away.
“Don’t you dare.”
God, he wanted to kiss him.
Instead, he took his hand, fingers intertwining to keep them from shaking. Blake stumbled a little behind him, still not fully awake. They jumped the curb and didn’t stop running until they were around the corner, their breathing ragged.
“Fuck man,” Judd said, running his hands through his hair, eyes wide. “You guys have to stop doing that shit. My heart can’t take it.”
Tommy shoved him aside. His hands were bloody, his face drawn, but he snatched Blake’s hand from Gabriel’s so he could hold them. “Are you okay?” he scanned Blake’s face.
Sluggishly, Blake shrugged. “I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve been hit in the head.”
Tommy whimpered and dragged him into a hug. Blake only grumbled a little.
Gabriel swiped the sweat from his face, heart thundering in his chest. He wanted to knock Tommy aside and take Blake from him. Search every inch of him for injuries. Hold him tight until he could feel his chest breathing under him, and his heart thudding against his own ribs.
“Where’s Scott?” Victoria’s voice was like a slap.
Tommy released Blake and looked away, turning his back to Victoria. She looked between him and Phin, then back to Gabriel.
“Oh,” she said.
“He—” Gabriel began, but Victoria held up a hand.
“I understand, Commander.”
Unfortunately, Gabriel believed she did. He knew he should probably say something, but now was not the time. Maybe never, knowing Victoria.
“We need to go,” he said quickly. Whatever was going on, they had to fall back. Regroup. Tend to their wounds. Victoria and Phin couldn’t walk without help, and Phin was still bleeding.
Tommy and Blake got on either side of Victoria while Judd slung Phin’s arm over his shoulder. The big man’s lips were turning white.
Gabriel took point. His gun was empty, and he had no idea if they had any more ammo, but he still held it aloft. It made him feel better as he swept the streets and alleys.
About a kilometer from the fighting, they found what once had been a nice little neighborhood.
The stone townhouses were fit together snugly with big cement walk ups and mature trees.
Most of the windows had been blown out, and the streetlamps had been ripped up, but they found a decent little basement apartment.
Judd left Phin propped against the black wrought iron fencing and joined Gabriel. Together they took the stairs quietly, easing their boots over the dried leaves strewn across the courtyard. It was empty save for a couple of toppled Adirondack chairs—one was partially melted.
With a nod to Judd, Gabriel carefully reached over and tried the front door. To his surprise, it swung open. Judd covered him as they both adjusted to the gloom of the apartment.
The building was old, probably historical. Someone had clearly renovated it at some point. The apartment was awash in neutral colors, with thick cream carpet. The far wall was exposed brick, and Gabriel guessed it was original.
The rent was probably astronomical.
Stepping into the foyer, he swept his gun across the quiet space.
The living room and kitchen were one big room, separated by a small half-wall.
A white couch was pushed up against the wall with a glass coffee table.
Judd peeled off to check down the hallways.
There were two open doors, the bedroom and bathroom, Gabriel guessed.
A moment later, Judd returned, gun down, giving the ‘OK’ sign with his fingers.
“There’s no TV,” Judd said after looking around. “What kind of psycho doesn’t have a TV?”
“Wouldn’t work anyway,” Gabriel answered distractedly. There were a few personal photos hung up on the wall and set up on a shelf. He purposefully didn’t look at them.