A Smidge of Magic

Chapter 4

Ian propped himself up on his arms and took stock of his situation. Jagged scraps of metal were peeking out from a pile of detritus, like a shark's ravenous maw. He'd landed with only a few inches between himself and the rust monster. He backed away and scrambled to his feet, coughing and waving a hand to clear away the choking cloud of dust.

As the air cleared, Ian could see nothing more than a shadowy silhouette looming over the ruins of the office. It couldn't possibly be as massive as it looked, Ian was sure that the low light was playing tricks on his eyes. His first instinct was to call out to his partner, but he had to be cautious for both their sakes.

A faint whistle was Ian's only warning as a thick piece of rebar came spinning through the air. He whipped his head around, following its course as it spun off into the darkness. Ducking low, he looked for cover while another wildly flying projectile whizzed past. Then another, and another. Until the air was almost humming with concrete blocks and metal shards, all aimed in his general direction.

A sunbeam shone down through a skylight on a grimy old forklift, putting the machine into a halo of light. He thanked whatever god was helping and dove behind it. He took a breath trying to slow the chaos of his mind, hoping that Anders had found a similar refuge. As he leaned against the cab he called out to his partner.

"Anders!" His voice came out strained and hoarse.

He trembled as he struggled to grip his gun properly and steady his cumbersome form. He wanted to make himself as small a target as possible. Hearing no response from Anders, he risked a quick glance around the side of his cover. He was barely beyond the reach of the dust cloud. The sunlight struggled against the impenetrable miasma, preventing Ian from seeing his adversary. Indistinct shapes formed and faded as Ian watched heavy sections of wall come flying out from the roiling cloud, leaving wispy dust trails in their wake.

Ian heard a faint groan that was unmistakably Anders'. He did not think, he simply reacted with the urgency demanded by the sound and scrabbled around the side of the cab. As the pained groan faded away, he was left only with the sense of rising panic. His advance was repelled by another round of projectiles. The roof of the cab caved in as a mammoth chunk of wall collided with Ian's meager cover. Glass rained down around him and forced him to retreat behind the ruined lift once more.

Don't panic, Ian. Just focus damn it! His mind screamed. It simply wasn't possible. There was no way that a man could hurl such weight around, no matter what kind of drugs or rage trip he might be on. The chunk that had mangled the cab had to weigh at least a ton.

Ian bobbed his head around what remained of the vehicle's frame to scan for new cover. Off to his right, he spotted a staircase leading up to the maze of catwalks. Reasoning that some high ground might give him a better chance at survival, and having no other brilliant ideas, he went for it.

"Hang on buddy, I know exactly what I'm doing," Ian shouted over the crushed cab. With gritted teeth he dove for the stairs, dodging another salvo of rocks along the way. He was passively aware the stairs were squealing in protest under his weight. He craned his arm around and fired off a few pot-shots at his attacker, aiming high to avoid Anders. Ian hoped this would force whoever he was fighting to take cover.

Rock-Chucker McGee had apparently missed the memo on the dangers of bullets. Ian glanced back over his shoulder and saw another hunk of wall, bound for the space that he currently occupied. He ran as the staircase buckled and shook from the impact. He gripped the rail to avoid losing his balance and spilling back down the stairs. He pulled himself up the final step and gained the catwalk.