The Sowing

We take off in the opposite direction. My mind is dizzy with disorientation. In the vent shafts I knew exactly where I was going. But the sights and sounds of the unseen invaders are wreaking havoc on my senses.

More explosions rip through the stairwell above. Shards of metal and concrete rain down on us. We burst through the doors of the lower level, narrowly avoiding being skewered.

Through the greenish haze, I can make out the entrance to the crematorium. Part of the wall is caved in. I brandish my weapon and we tear up the distance to the entrance.

Arrah, Drusilla, and Dahlia are struggling against the group of Imps who brought them down here. Corin bursts from my side and jumps into action, flinging rocks and kicking out at those around him. The smothering dark has robbed anyone of an advantage. As I glance off to the side, my elation turns to concern. Cage is lying in the rubble, obviously in pain. Part of him is trapped under a mound of debris. Tristin is hunched down beside him.

Aiming my weapon, I take out the Imposers trading blows with Arrah, Dru, and Dahlia.

“Lucian?” Arrah shouts. A grin rips across her face. “That you?”

“Who else?” Then I’m dashing over. “Take these!” Reaching into the rucksack, I scoop out more goggles and weapons, thrusting them into each of their hands, even Corin’s.

For the next few seconds, everyone’s busy strapping on belts with guns and grenades.

“We thought you were d—” Drusilla stops midsentence, snapping a fresh clip into her gun instead.

I reload my own weapon. “Yeah. Thought you were, too.”

Dahlia’s eyes flit to Cage and Tristin. “Can you move?”

Tristin shakes her head. “His hand’s trapped.”

I squat beside them. Cage looks like he’s fighting the pain. The lower half of his arm is buried in the rubble almost up to the elbow. I reach for the surrounding debris, straining as I try to dislodge it, but I only succeed in making Cage inhale sharply and wince.

“Sorry,” I say.

He tries to smile but it’s a real effort. “S’okay. I’ve still got another one.”

GONG!

Clacketyclacketyclacketyclacketyclacketyclacketyclackety!

The horrid sounds are approaching our position.

Fast.

Tristin hugs Corin close. “What are those things?”

“Right now, they’re our chance to get out of here,” I whisper. The others are crowded around us, trying to lift the rubble trapping Cage’s arm, but it won’t budge.

And the Fleshers are getting closer.

Cage’s free hand locks around my wrist and he pulls me close. “Spark. There’s no time left. This is the chance we’ve been fighting for. Take my sister and get the hell out of here. Now!”

Tristin claws her way between us. “We’re not leaving you behind. We would never do that!” Her shaded eyes search the group, and I try to avoid doing the same so I won’t see their expressions.

And so Tristin won’t see my own.

She clutches my arm. “Don’t you have anything that can blast through this rubble?”

Instead of answering her, I rifle through the duffle bag, searching for something—a low-impact charge to blast the rubble, some sort of chisel—anything.

But there’s nothing. Except for…

My slick fingers brush against the cold metal of the blow torch.

A low hum fills the cramped space. The tip of the torch glows, bathing our exposed skin in purplish orange. It’ll cut and cauterize simultaneously. Destruction and healing all in one slice.

Cage’s firm hand locks around my forearm. He nods. “Do it, Lucian.”

Dahlia rips off one of the rucksack’s leather straps and places it next to Cage’s lips. “Bite down on this.”

He does.

I plunge the laser tip down onto Cage’s wrist. His body convulses. An agonized moan squeezes past the leather in his teeth. He whips his head back and forth. Arrah and Drusilla struggle to keep him steady. The last of the bone gives way and I nearly stumble backwards.

I barely catch a glimpse of the still-smoking stump of Cage’s arm before Tristin is wrapping a piece of torn fabric around it.

BLAM! Something crashes through the wall behind us.

“We gotta move!” Arrah shouts.

Without sacrificing a precious moment to look back, I help her haul the pale and shivering Cage to his feet.

The next few seconds are a blur of strobing lights and discordant sounds. We run, climbing up a mound of rubble to the torn entrance of a vent shaft.

“Arrah!” I shout. “You take point. I’ll take backup and keep you covered!”

Arrah squirms through the opening, helping hoist Corin behind her. Tristin climbs through next, turning to help Drusilla wedge Cage through. Clutching his wounded arm to his chest, he grunts as he squeezes his bulk into the narrow passage and disappears with them inside it, leaving just Dahlia and me.

“After you!” Before she can protest, I push her through the opening.

Slinging my weapon over my shoulder, I grip the edges of the shaft to heave myself inside—

Something clamps my shoulder.