Rhodoreef

42. The Ragtag Kids

"Dea, you okay?" Hima asked for the hundredth time.

"Yeah, I'm alright." Dea flung a glance her way as they dashed through the battle-ravaged city. "Really."

"Okay..."

Underneath the warrior stance, Hima radiated anxiety. She was obviously having serious misgivings about their ability to pull off this mission.

Their route took them past the town hall, its dome rising into the heavens. Dea knew it was now occupied by Callian forces. As she skirted past a destroyed tank, she spied a van in the distance, mounted with what appeared to be a satellite dish antenna.

After a while, Muda barked, "Nadie's updated the route. Turn here."

The mini force of three altered the course to a tightly-packed residential road. Then Dea jolted to a stop, prompting the others to follow suit.

This was where the girls' shelter was located—except now, it looked like a cyclone had struck.

Dea stared at the wreckage and empty husks of buildings. Tremors shot down her system. She was too far away to spot the shelter itself.

Hima's voice cut into her thoughts, "Dea?"

"Let's go," she hissed and propelled herself forward.

They barely gained a dozen meters before her friend shouted, "Humans!"

Sure enough, humans scattered at their approach, disappearing into hiding places. A burning bottle arced into the air, heading right at them. Muda dodged, and it crashed into a dented car. Flames bloomed on impact.

"What the heck was that?" Hima yelled, bumping over debris as she darted behind a pile of rubble.

"Molotov cocktail," Dea said, heart thumping. "Nadie warned us that some civilians are staying behind and defending themselves."

"Let's go!" Muda jumped back to action. "Watch out for the bottle bombs."

"Gee, thanks for that piece of advice, superwoman," Hima mumbled under her breath as she hurried to catch up.

The whir of the Cypods carried down the road. The humans might have detected something odd about this unexpected trio appearing out of the blue, because no more attacks came their way. In the corner of her eye, Dea spied a curtain close in a four-story condominium that stood intact.

Up ahead, the girls' shelter lay in ruins. The yellow interior popped out from the greys, broken and exposed like a gaping wound. A current of shock sizzled through Dea.

"Dea," Hima's voice snapped her to her senses. "C'mon!"

As they drew near, two humans scampered away.

"What were they doing?" Muda wondered aloud, slowing down.

"Rescue efforts! There might be people trapped in there." Dea headed straight to the collapsed building. "Muda, can you help get this beam out of the way?"

Muda hesitated but rushed to comply, Hima following at her wheels. Dea wasted no time activating the Flamingo's robotic arm. It hummed and unfolded to its full dimensions.

"Gawping groupers," Hima said, moving out of the way as Dea maneuvered the arm into position.

Together, they lifted the beam, which groaned in protest. They dragged it aside and let it drop. Vibrations rippled as it thudded down. Dust ballooned up, motes shimmering in the light.

Dea barely had time to indulge in the small victory. Over the skyline, lights flashed through the glowering clouds—an alarming display that made her heart constrict.