The middle Bird, the one who seems to be their leader, orders them down, and like a well-oiled machine of one mind and body, they react, armored bellies smacking off the concrete. Propped on their elbows with guns aimed, they canvas their surroundings. The leader's jaw tightens as his finger closes around the trigger and he fires. The bullet whizzes through the air, shearing off the tops of grass before it finds its target.
A few feet from us, a man, similarly dressed like the ones accompanying Matthew's sister, falls back, his now lifeless body slumped over scraps of metal fencing. A bullet pierced his left eye, taking with it almost the entire left half of his face.
Within seconds, three more men, dressed in black fatigues marked by red lines, give away their positions to rally beside their fallen comrade.
Mara clenches Sam's hand in hers.
The leader of the Birds stops his assault, gets to his feet and points his weapon plateward."This doesn't have to end in a bloodbath." Slowly, he lowers his gun to the ground, giving it a hard kick that sends it sliding on the concrete. "We were only following orders."
Jonathan leans in and whispers in my ear. "Do those guys look familiar?"
I glance at the trio, kneeling before the corpse. Red markings, black fatigues. They remind me of the Collective, but nothing strikes at the kindling of my memory.
One of them reaches out a gloved hand and closes their fallen companion's eyes, before revealing his location to the dozen rifles that swivel to meet him. His lips part into a smile as he peers down at the execution squad itching to pump a hundred bullets in his chest. "The El Accosta promised to give you the goupe of kids," he says.
Mara gasps. "They're working with the Law?"
I shake my head. "It appears they had some deal, but judging by the body count, I'd say that agreement's been blown to hell."
"And you didn't," the Bird responds. "Your men went rogue, escalated the situation-"
"Shouldn't you be elite enough to have vetted your spy more thoroughly?" He points at the wreckage of the Hall. The Bird swallows hard. "Homemade bomb planted in the Homestead as insurance." He snorts. "Should have had him working for me."
The Birds' leader motions to the body near his feet. "You've had your revenge. Two of mine for two of yours."
The El Accosta sighs and waves his gun. The Birds stiffen, their arms going rigid as they hold their positions, weapons never wavering.
"Afraid not. I have three bodies needing buried and," he leans forward and places a hand over his eyes. "Seems you only have one. That guy on your left only got a little nick on his arm."
The Bird commander's mouth pulls deeper into a frown. "So?"
"So?" He hunches over. "I'm owed bodies and I'm not leaving till I collect."
Before the Birds can fire, the El Accosta take cover. They open gunfire and a slurry of bullets spit out of smoking barrels. My hearing rings, the sound deafening, making my head throb.
Jonathan pulls my arm. "Hurry!"
I nod. "You don't have to tell me twice!" I point toward the way we came. "Head toward the Tram."
Mara's face wrinkles. "You sure?"
Be what they need you to be.
I nod.
She shakes her head.
....
We head for the maintenance port, our legs kicking up dust and blown apart bits of brick as we bolt down the street, taking cover behind turned over trash bins, fences, and homes. The sound of the gunfight being waged between El Accosta and the Birds dies down the further we escape it. We turn, come to the road where it had split into three. Chests heaving, lungs on fire, pain emanating from every inch of muscle and flesh.
"We're almost there," I say, exhaust dwindling my words to little more than whispers. Mara nods. Sam straightens, lowers enough to wedge himself under my armpit, and places an arm around my waist.
"Thanks," I say. He nods, too out-of-breath for words. We make for the main street, round the corner, and freeze.
Red eyes.
The El Accosta soldiers all had red eyes. Like two dozen matchsticks burning in the dark, they stared at us, hands wavering above their guns, fingers dancing in the space between. There weren't any stars. Just their eyes, narrowing, locking-on. Targets acquired.
My heart leaps in my chest. Without preamble, the El Accosta raise their weapons, train them on us. A swish of arms, acting as one, slices through the air.
One of the El Accosta smiles at me. Black hair tied behind him with a thick black cord. One he could use to lynch me. I take a sharp inhale. Langford. His smile twists into a snarl as he pets the gun he's got aimed at my gut. "We meet again."
I nod. "So we do."
Sam and Mara send me confused glances. Marava claws at Jonathan's shirt. "Should I call you Langford or is there another name you prefer?"
His snarl splits into a grin as laughter spills out of him. He shoulders his gun. "I could ask you the same thing, Miss Ivy." His eyes roam over me, his gaze turning hard, cold. He's studying me with scientific interest, nothing more. "Ten suits you better."
Around us, family complexes jut skyward, their tops brushing the underside of the mid-level umbrella. A few plants, plastic shrubs and grass dapple the ground. This part of the Homestead's been cleaned of debris, made to look picture-perfect.
I frown. There's not much to hide behind. We were fish in a barrel, able to be picked off one at a time if the El Accosta decided to. But, we had to try. We couldn't just die. Not after everything.
"There's nowhere to run," Langford says, giving me an almost disinterested gaze. Thanks for regurgitating the obvious.
"There's plenty of places to stick you with a bullet while keeping you alive." He gives the barrel of his gun a languid caress. None of the boyish charm resides in his face. "There's over twenty organs and bones I can take from you and still be able to deliver a functioning you to the Law." Fury glimmers in his eyes. "Let's face it. You're going back one way or another."
My heart thuds in my ears. "That might be true," I swallow down that nagging fear and clear my throat. My fingers grip the black bag Langford has given me earlier. The plastic crinkles. "But I don't have to make it easy for you."
With a jerk, I launch the bag into the air. "Go!"
Jonathan, Marava, Sam, and Mara scatter like the cockroaches they are. I stumble on my bum leg. The splint tears as I settle too much weight on that leg, amplifying my dread. If I slowed now or fell, I wouldn't be getting back up.
I whip around the corner of a house. Row after row of shuttered windows blur by. I sprint past their sidewalk, hunch behind a fence, catch my breath.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. My eyes dart back and forth. El Accosta spread outward, in a half-moon around the house, their movements short, quick, precise. I take one last inhale, enjoying the much-needed air even as it causes my lungs to burst into fire and push myself forward heading in the direction of another house.
From behind, someone shouts, "Over there!"
Shit.
Nails dig into my skin as I'm pulled behind a hedgerow. As a scream makes to escape my mouth, a hand clamps over it. "Be quiet, for once," Marava says.
I turn toward her - sweat-soaked and out of breath. Her hands tremble, even the tips of her nails bob up and down. Her face pales as she studies the three El Accosta as they weave themselves between yards. Her teeth clench together. Her eyes narrow.
"We split up," she says before taking another inhale of breath. "Jonathan's hiding over there."
Her shaking finger points over to where the El Accosta are. "I'm sure he'll be-"
The El Accosta surround a dumpster behind the house, guns trained. "Out! Out now!" one of them shouts.
Marava's bottom lip quivers. The men pull Jonathan to his feet. He says something to them which they award with a punch to the gut. They shove a gun into Jonathan's back and force him forward. A Blackhole bag engulfs his head.
Tears well in Marva's eyes. "They got him. They'll kill him."
"No, they won't."
She whips around to meet my gaze. "What do you mean?"
Feeling unusually daring, I grip her hand in mine. "We'll rescue him."
She scoffs. "How?"
I rub the dot at the base of my ear. "I think I have something." Static crackles in my ear. "Jonathan, if you're listening - I've got a plan. Don't let them know you have a comm on you."
Marava bares her teeth. "You really-"
"Oh, and try not to die. Marava's too much for me to handle. Further instruction to be sent your way. Over and out."
Marava scowls. I turn toward her and make toward where the El Accosta took Jonathan.
"They're probably going back to their van. We should head them off before they regroup. Two versus three are much better odds."
Suddenly, Marava's scowl shifts to a look of surprise. "Two?"
I nod. "Yeah. He's your--" I scrunch my nose. "Whatever he is. Figured you would want to help rescue him. Besides," I glance at my tattered splint, trace my tongue along the inside of my mouth where the swollen flesh throbs. "You're the only one here not a walking miracle."
Marava frowns. "You do look like shit."
"There's the Marava honesty," I reach out, grab her arm. "Now let's get Jonathan back so you can coddle him to your heart's content."
She nods and we head down the side street.