Chapter 49 Gedeon
GEDEON
Ahigh-pitched, shattering sound peeled my eyelids open.
The emptiness in place of two bodies beside me banished any residue of sleep dulling my senses.
I rolled out of the bed, falling into a squat, scanning my surroundings—
Zion sprinted to Kali, frozen in the kitchen. Red dots and smears painted her mouth, my tattoo on her forearm, the space above her chest. On the counters, a thousand colorless fragments glittered in the faint illumination.
Her hand trembled, and a few bigger shards crashed onto the floor. The minuscule glass pieces scattered across the wooden boards—
Time slowed as the wind from the destroyed kitchen window tickled my nape, as crimson flowed down Kali’s body, as Zion collided with her, as they—
The navy cabinet splintered beside them.
I lunged. My feet gaining traction on the floorboards, I dashed toward them. “DOWN!” My throat vibrated with the strength of my bellow.
Another window shattered right as Zion tackled Kali, out of the direct eyesight of the attackers aiming the rifles. Based on the angles, at least two people sought to kill us.
The rattle of bullets reverberated in the night, and splinters of dark blue and light gray flew in all directions—a whirlpool of wood and plastic enclosing Zion and Kali.
Endless cracks, sharp snaps, and dull pops roared their melody of destruction as the tiny cylinders of lead and antimony alloy burrowed into the furniture and walls, shredding wood, plaster and brick like a river would a rock.
My pulse pounded in my temples as I flew toward the light switch near the door. The two sconces exposed our positions in the house, while the gloom outside obscured the enemy’s location.
A flip of the plastic lever, and darkness claimed the open-plan space. The rusted iron shoe rack I had shoved to the door to act as a temporary lock for the night still stood, unmoved, and a plan forged in my head.
If I was certain of something, it was of this: neither Zion nor Kali would be carried out of here. They would walk out on their own two feet.
Inhaling to the full capacity of my lungs, I willed any feelings to leave me. Now was not the time to display weakness.
As I exhaled, cold invaded my brain, dousing the sparking neurons in the areas responsible for my emotions. Logic and reasoning seated themselves at the forefront of my mind.
Whoever was outside, they would need to reload at some point.
All cities’ forces were identical. The government provided the military with two types of firearms: semi-automatic handguns and fully automatic rifles, which could also operate in the former’s manner.
It was far from difficult to determine which one the soldiers currently employed for the task of demolishing our one-story dwelling and puncturing our flesh.
Utilizing the cover the endless strings of bullets provided, I heaved the iron shoe rack aside—
Deafening quiet descended.
Their firearms had sputtered out.
The absence of noise plugged my ears, and I positioned my foot to keep the door closed.
“Gedeon.” Kali’s whisper was as inaudible as the steady drip of scarlet down her front.
I pressed a finger to my lips.
Monitoring the holes where the windows had once stood, I moved my foot an inch from the door. It swung until it hit my leg, but not a creak disturbed the fallen hush.
Her eyes bugged out. “N—”
Zion covered her mouth, well aware of how we had to keep quiet. Grimacing, she jerked away from him. He silently swore at the specks of red littering his palm, and then tilted her head up, inspecting her face and ignoring how she tried to shove him away. She slapped his arm—
His fist hit the ground.
A torrent of wrath raged inside me—a bullet had carved a gorge into his right forearm. The deep tear exposed the muscle, and the walls I had built around myself to remain clearheaded collapsed.
The soldiers had touched him. Perhaps not with their blows, but their weapons answered to them and no one else, identically to how their hearts were soon going to submit to my command, a simple one at that: stop.
Fueled by the fury nagging me to move, my foot shuffled away from the door, widening the gap, and I mouthed to both of them, Stay here.
Before Kali could protest, Zion caught her waist, drawing her closer to the cabinets under the sink.
As the rattle renewed, he used his body to cover her. Fresh bullets, probably still hot from the friction they had sustained during their flight out of the barrel, rained damage on any surface they could reach.
I slipped through the crack in the doorway. The cold attacked me, peppering me with icy pricks. The thick wooden posts creating the railing of the veranda partially masked me as I crept toward the backyard the kitchen windows faced.
Not a single soul roamed the dead-end street we were in, not a single house emanated a yellow light, and I cursed.
The safety precautions we had agreed to with Conall included a condition that we would occupy an abandoned residential neighborhood at the fringes of their compound, as nobody would think to scour such areas.
Or so we had thought.
Now it meant either backup was too far to reach us in time, or that no support was coming at all.
Pausing at the corner of the veranda, I peeked through the gaps in the railing. Recently mowed lawn waved to me, the blades of grass swaying in the night breeze, not a soldier in sight.
The standard-issue rifles had a range of up to five-hundred yards—
They were hiding in the forest bordering the backyard.
Slinking back to the main door and down the four stairs, I thanked the cities for developing weapons as loud as thunder. They were surprisingly effective in concealing my approach.
Dew slickened my bare feet as I sneaked through the yard, digging my toes into the earth to keep my balance and avoid sprawling out for all to see.
The forest welcomed me with twigs prodding my soles and spiderwebs sticking to my nose. The smell of rotting vegetation both soothed and tickled my stomach’s lining.
Following the dull booms of cylinders leaving the barrels, I weaved between pine trees and an occasional oak.
The moonlight filtered through the sprouting leaves and flourishing needles, and a glint of a steel detail on a black, matte rifle poised against a soldier’s shoulder coaxed me to slow down.
A withered branch stabbed my foot, but I stifled a hiss—a curvy soldier was reloading. The weapon’s strap shifted on her shoulder, and the clings and clanks accompanied her steady motions as she fit the new cartridge in place.
The silver patch on her right shoulder revealed her origins to be the city of Coriattus, the embroidered triangle shape identifying her as the leader of a crew of soldiers.
I prayed like hell Zion kept Kali locked down on the floor until I could take care of the threat. This was not his first time dealing with the military, and although rationale sometimes abandoned him, it always returned to him in the end.
But Kali… Not having been in a battle before could cause her to make impulsive decisions, ones steering her toward her demise instead of victory.
The renewed thrum of bullets pierced the rush of my thoughts, and I pounced on the soldier.
She released the trigger, cutting off the rumble of death—
Sparks exploded in my eyes as the shaft of her rifle collided with my lower ribs.
Stricken by my nudity, she paused. But the less-than-a-blink moment was enough to gain an advantage over her.
Because one of the things we drilled into everyone during training was that pain or someone’s looks were not a good enough reason to lose a fight. I had lost count of how many times we had arranged various unpleasant scenarios in group training to ensure nothing surprised our people.
I seized the barrel, turning it away from me, and utilized her shock to rip the gun free—
The strap secured across her back snapped taut, forcing her to stumble into me—
Raising her arms, she ducked, slipping free of what I intended to turn into a makeshift rope to strangle her.
Spinning around, she aimed a kick at my groin. “Fucking filth.”
Dropping the gun, I caught her ankle, tightened my grip on her calf and foot, and twisted. And then repeated it again, breaking the joint and tendons. A snap rolled through the forest, instantly taken over by her howl as I released her ruined leg. It crashed onto the ground like deadweight.
The pulse in my left side intensified as blood rushed to the injured area, and I picked up the gun. “Be a good little soldier and wait for me here.” There was no chance she could go anywhere with a dislocated ankle and severed sinews.
Creeping back into the shadows cloaking the woods, I stalked to where the second soldier must have stood to be able to aim at the other kitchen window.
The forest was thick with disquiet, half a dozen pine trees marking the beginning of the backyard, the perfect location to set up—
A hard edge collided with my lower back.
I stumbled forward, catching a trunk for support. Securing my hold on the rifle I’d commandeered, I whipped around only to come face-to-face with a gloved fist.
Pure reflexes guided me in deflecting the punch and ramming my elbow into the soldier’s solar plexus. He doubled over, his grunt serving as his last sound as I pulled the trigger.
His corpse slumped to the ground. Mushy globs leaked from his right eye socket, the viscous liquid soaking into the yellowish moss.
I didn’t mind this one dying quickly. He was not the leader of the operation, merely the muscle to do a job.
But his buddy? Now, she and I were scheduled for a conversation.
My trek to where I had left the leader was short, but as it neared its finish line, muffled cries caressed my ears.
Yet only emptiness met me in the spot I had last seen her. I rested the rifle on my shoulder, debating whether I should prolong our game or get it over with quickly.
An obvious trail of crushed bushes betrayed her weak attempt at an escape, and I practically rolled my eyes. A person’s survival instincts would make them do anything to increase the likelihood of seeing another day, but she should have realized there was no chance I would allow it.
Paying no heed to the shrubs abrading my legs, I prowled to my prey hiding behind an oak. The crooked angle of her ankle came into view, her shock intensifying as I rounded the tree.
“So.” I smacked the barrel of my rifle against my hand. “Did you know that a million glass fragments have cut my woman up because of you?”
Sitting on her ass, the soldier scrambled away from me. “She deserves to die. Like all of you. Pigs thinking they’re worth more than humanity’s survival shouldn’t—”
She screamed.
Her ankle had snagged on a gnarled root poking out of the earth.
I smiled. Nature itself had decided to shut her up, to fill her with howls instead of the bullshit Coriattus had brainwashed her into believing.
“I should probably also mention that my man’s arm now has a fucking trench in it from your bullet.” I cocked the gun against my shoulder. “So why don’t we make it even?” I aimed. “A hand for a hand.”
The recoil tested the strength of my joint as a single bullet left the shaft. A circular hole appeared in her right hand, her delayed shriek resonating in the forest.
“An arm for an arm.”
The black helmet secured under her chin slid an increment down her forehead, hiding a stray curl of copper hair. “What—”
Scarlet burst from her forearm.
Scanning my surroundings for additional soldiers, despite being certain these two were all that Coriattus had sent for us, I crouched down. Not a leaf fluttered in the wind, and I positioned the opening of the firearm to her right cheek.
Laying on her back, she strained to turn away, pressing the left side of her face into the damp forest floor.
I dug the barrel into her flesh. “A jaw for a jaw.” My forefinger overcame the trigger’s resistance.
Shavings of teeth and strips of flesh flew out of her mouth. Her screams morphed into sobs, then pants, and then convulsions as she succumbed to a fit of coughing. More bits of enamel littered the moss serving as a pillow for her head, too nice and spongy for the feces of Coriattus’ military.
I dragged the rifle down. “A chest for a chest.”
A spasm rocked through her as crimson began to trickle from under her collarbone, and a reddish-brown stain spread in her skintight, dark green shirt.
I positioned the gun at her carotid artery. “And finally, a neck for a neck.”
Blood sprayed, coating my weapon and calves in warmth, quenching the thirst the moss surely had been enduring since the last rain.
Coriattus could not have possibly expected their military puppets to survive venturing into Conall’s compound’s grounds.
Sacrificial lambs—that was what the soldiers were.
Resorting to leaving the corpses in the forest for Conall’s people to pick up later, I strode back to the house, my pace increasing until I was running across the yard, sprinting up the stairs and slamming into the door.
An iron shoe rack grated against the wooden floor, scraping the milky paint and shiny coating.
The kitchen stood empty. No bodies lay on the—
“We’re okay.” Kali peeked out from behind the kitchen island. Slowly rising, she added, “Zion is too.”
He got to his feet beside her, and my heartbeats decreased. Grime coated them in a matte layer, dust blending with blood, the mixture caking up, but they could stand without support.
Then my fears hit me.
“How did you know it was me?” I gestured to the door. “I could have been a soldier, or a someone—”
“Your gait.” Zion walked around the kitchen island. Or more like the ruins of it. “I could recognize it in my sleep.”
Before he could take another step, I rushed over, cradling his head and pressing our foreheads together. His body was still hot, his breaths warm puffs on my mouth.
Alive.
He was alive.
The most exasperating man on the continent was alive.
And I was mush in his hands.