Page 17 of Beastly Armory
Derichs creeps up beside me in a crouched position. He pushes his back against the wall and slides down it on weakened knees. His left hand presses against his shoulder, but he still clutches his handgun. Blood weeps through his T-shirt around where he’s keeping pressure.
“Hang on,” I say through gritted teeth.
His eyes frost over, but he nods.
We have to get out of here. Now. Footfalls from the rest of Strauss’s men bellow from around the corner. Quickly, I shove against the exit door nearest us, but it’s bolted shut. “Fuck!” In desperation, I heave with my shoulder against it with everything my strong frame gives me, but it won’t budge. As I scan the small area behind the pillar, I come to the horrible conclusion that there’s no way out. Our only escape route is across the open warehouse floor.
Snatching my phone from my pocket, I hit the number I was given for communications with Holland, our tank on the outside.
Heavy breaths answer me. “I’m on the move. Aries had to switch positions. You’ve got about six left standing—” A ping, then a loud groan interrupts him.
“Holland?” There’s no answer. Ending the call, I stuff the phone back in my pocket, placing my back against the wall next to my man.
Strauss’s men are moving in closer. Sliding out my magazine, I count three left, one in the chamber.
“I’ve got a few left,” Derichs manages to say as sweat drips from his forehead, now paling to the color of ash.
“Slide behind that pillar.” I point to one farther in the corner. “Hunker down over there.” Concrete explodes near my head as someone picks off my location. Dipping into my pocket, my fingers grasp the heavy grenade. This could backfire, but I pull the ring with my teeth anyway.
If I don’t die from the explosion, I’ll die from a heart attack. My chest thuds from the panic desperate to escape from within as I grip the body and lever together as tightly as my fist will allow. I rear back my arm and launch it across the room to the other door and drop to my knees, covering my head with my arms.
The impact shudders the room until the floor tilts as if we’re in an earthquake. Instead of bullets, crusts of plaster and dust plummet around us, splattering to the floor. When I look up, Derichs is still in position and the men moving in on us are down and rolling around, their moans of agony piercing through my almost deafened ears. The wall has opened for us enough to get through.
Rushing to my partner, I heave him up underneath his good shoulder. “I’m okay. I got this. I’m fine, Max,” he grunts. His feet kick repeatedly until he stumbles with me across the warehouse and out into the safety of the night.
“Rendezvous,” my voice commands steadily, so he knows where we’re heading. Darting through the alley next to the buildings, my body begins to relax as we approach my untouched Barracuda. Once I unlock thedoors, Derichs collapses into the passenger seat and immediately slumps down, passing out.
The engine roars to life as I turn the key. With a squeal of the tires, I press on the accelerator fully, steering in the direction of the old car wash. Our safe harbor, one of the old armories. Holland should meet us there in a retreat.
Before I get out of the city streets, headlights blaze in my rearview mirror, blinding me for a moment. We’ve been spotted by a black Mercedes. Fortunately, I have a better car. Darting through some side streets, my enemy keeps up easily, even when I skip past red lights. Pedestrians dart out of the way, diving for the sidewalks as we speed past. The Mercedes keeps up close with a gun sticking out of the passenger window.
“Oh, hell no!” They better not hit my Barracuda. Switching pedals, I rapidly slam on the brakes and yank the steering wheel to the left. The Mercedes keeps moving forward as I pull a sharp turn, heading for the highway. I need an open road.
Once I reach it, the black car can’t keep up with the amount of muscle I’ve put into the engine. Flooring the gas, I leave it behind as we head almost beyond the city limits before I turn sharply right onto an exit ramp.
Eventually, I make it to the car wash on the east side. It’s well into Freidenberg land, but mainly abandoned now. The earth has reclaimed a lot of the buildings in the area, the asphalt cracked so deeply, I have to stop before easing over the bumps. Pulling through the old bay, I park in the middle of the ragged, dirty wash brushes.Solid concrete walls refuse a peek inside, and the door to the office hangs sideways on its hinges. It’s completely dark.
“Derichs!” I yell to wake him.
With a snort, he raises his head with some effort. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” He’s mainly talking to himself.
“Come on. Get out.”
I jump out of my side and slide to his, pulling open the passenger door as he struggles to set himself upright. Throwing a shoulder under his uninjured one, I help him stagger into the office.
“I got a girl,” he grits out. “Her name’s Hannah.Fuck!Don’t tell her I got shot.” He groans again. “She’ll just do something stupid.” I toss him on an old waiting room bench.
“You’re not fucking dying. Stop that. First time shot in the shoulder?”
He nods, his eyes trying to search me out in his dazed confusion.
“You’ll be okay. I just need to get in touch with a healer.” Other cities have their hospitals and doctors; I had never learned about such things until after we moved away. Gnarled Pine Hollow has always relied on alternatives; at least, the clans have their own. Those outside the families have their medicine people as well, but the coveted position of healer is to serve the head of a prominent family.
My finger shakes violently as I pull up Markus’s number with some effort. After telling him about the situation, he says he’s sending one to meet us in a worriedtone. I haven’t met any of my healers. Guess now is as good a time as any.
While I wait, I search the shop for any supplies. It’ll take a lot of work to get the place back in shape, just like everything on the east side of Gnarled Pine. A creaking sound comes from my right, and I immediately draw my weapon. I didn’t see any headlights approaching, but someone could have followed us.
Holding up my gun, I creep down the hallway. All the doors are closed, except for one to the old men’s bathroom, which is cracked ajar. I flip on my pistol light and flash it over the open door until two shiny eyes peek out from behind it.