CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Keryn and Adam broke for the nearest doorway, as gunfire erupted around them. Packed clay from the road erupted in sprays of shrapnel, biting into the backs of the pair’s arms and legs as they ran. From behind them, Keryn could hear Cardax’s rumbling laughter over the din of weapon fire. Snarling, Keryn turned and fired a couple rounds in his direction, causing the Oterian to dodge for cover. Adam grabbed her around the waist as he passed, pulling her toward the unmarked, two-story wooden building.
“Not now!” he yelled as he dragged her away. Though lifted from her feet by his powerful arms, Keryn continued to fire wild shots at the retreating smuggler.
Setting her back on her feet without breaking stride, Keryn and Adam bound up the two wooden stairs that led onto the building’s porch. Taking the lead, Keryn counted her blessings that the townsfolk seemed poorly trained with their weapons. Though they had filled the area around them with bullets, not a single one had as of yet found its mark. As they neared the doorway, it was suddenly flung wide. A stout Pilgrim blocked the entrance, a double- barreled shotgun held in the crook of his arm. Surprised, the man hesitated as Keryn bounded up the stairs. Lowering her shoulder, she caught the Pilgrim in the stomach. Together, they tumbled into the room, their bodies regressing into a mass of swinging limbs.
As they rolled across the floor, Keryn immediately regretted her decision to grapple with the much larger man. Though stocky and overweight, the Pilgrim held a surprising storehouse of strength, one that he levered to his advantage. Thrown onto her back, the air was forced from Keryn’s lungs as the man threw himself on top of her. One hand closed over her throat as another settled over her mouth, blocking her attempts to cry out in pain. The Pilgrim’s hand felt crushing on her throat as she struggled for air. Realizing her dangerous predicament, Keryn bit down hard on the fleshy skin between the man’s thumb and forefinger. Shaking from side to side, she held her grip even as the man howled in pain and a coppery taste filled her mouth.
Easing his grip on both Keryn’s mouth and throat, she brought her knees up tight to her chest and launched her hips skyward. The force of her double-footed kick caught the Pilgrim under the chin, rocking him to his feet as he reeled backward. A room-shaking explosion jarred Keryn as the first round of Adam’s large caliber rifle shattered through the man’s shoulder. Staggering backward toward the door, Adam stepped protectively over Keryn and fired again. His second shot lifted the man from his feet and flung his body onto the front porch. Slamming the door, Adam pushed a nearby dresser behind the door, barring the entrance to the building.
Turning, he hurried to Keryn’s side. Kneeling down, Adam reached out and gently wiped the side of her face. As he pulled away his hand, Keryn could see the rich, red blood on his fingertips.
Keryn shook her head. “It’s not mine,” she said hoarsely. She wiped away more of the blood as Adam helped her to her feet.
With her assistance, Adam turned over a heavy wooden table in the center of the room and they took cover behind it. From the street, the townsfolk, with Cardax in the lead, shifted and began firing heavily into the building. The thin glass window shattered, littering the ground with broken shards. Though behind cover, they could hear slivers of wood breaking free and flying across the room.
She rubbed her throat, feeling the bruises where her throat microphone had bit into the flesh as the Pilgrim tried to strangle her. Her knees felt weak and unsteady. Wearily, Keryn leaned against the cool wood of the table and slowly began filtering out the overwhelming sounds of devastation from all around her.
A cursory glance around the room told Keryn what she needed to know. There were no other exits from the building in which they were trapped. Dozens of townspeople, if not more, filled the street outside, advancing quickly on their position. The insignificant amount of furniture they had hastily thrown in front of the door wouldn’t last. The already decimated window would offer easy access into the room for Cardax’s minions. And, as far as Keryn could tell, they had no exit from the building aside from going through the middle of an angry, armed mob.
“Keryn,” Adam asked as he peered around the corner of the table, “what do we do?”
Keryn didn’t reply and, instead, closed her eyes and tried to disappear within the grain of the wooden table. She had never felt so unsure of herself. It was her fault that her team was now trapped and facing their deaths. Clenching her eyes shut, she felt anger well in her chest. She had always had the Voice to fall back on; a pinprick of wisdom that cut through the chaos of her life. But now, a bitter silence prevailed in her head. No advice was shared, though she yearned for help. She was on her own. Alone. And it scared Keryn to death.
“What do you want us to do?” Adam asked sternly.
“I don’t know,” Keryn whispered.
A roar from Rombard’s heavy rifle split the air, the massive round striking the support beam beneath one of the nearby balconies. The wooden balcony buckled and collapsed, spilling the Uligart gunner onto the hard ground. As he tried to stand, Keeling shot him twice, dropping him dead to the ground. Groaning, Keeling slid back behind the crates they were using for cover, holding his abdomen. Dark blood soaking his shirt and ran between his fingers.
“Keeling’s been hit,” Rombard rumbled into the microphone, foregoing any pretenses of call signs. “They’ve got us pinned. What are your orders?”
The radio was strangely silent; he heard no traffic from either Keryn or Adam. Rombard ducked as a round splintered the crate near his head. Looking toward the rooftops, the Oterian spotted not just the shooter who just nearly shot him, but also a number of others taking up positions on the tops of nearby buildings.
“Cerise, this is Rombard. I could use some help with those guys on the roofs.”
“I see them,” came her haughty reply.
A dark shadow passed over Rombard and Keeling as Cerise glided down from her high perch. Her machine gun was firing before she touched down on the roof, spraying the crouching rifleman. Turning, she fired again, catching a surprised Oterian in the chest. The fur covered sniper staggered backwards before falling over the side of the building. He caught the railing of the balcony under his chin before flipping and collapsing onto the hard-packed ground below, bloodied and broken. She continued firing into the other rooftop townsfolk, covering Rombard and Keeling below.
“Talon Six, what do you want us to do?” Rombard asked as he looked down at his Uligart counterpart. Keeling winced at the pain as he alternated stretching first one leg, then the other in an attempt to alleviate some of the burning sensation in his abdomen.
It wasn’t Keryn who answered. Instead, a thick, gravelly voice cut into the radio traffic. “This is Penchant. We had some trouble at the port. McLaughlin is hurt pretty bad.”
Rombard frowned and shook his head. Without waiting for a reply from anyone in the town, the Oterian preemptively responded. “Penchant, I can’t raise Keryn on the radio. Secure the
Confirming his fears, he watched the Avalon launch from the roof and fly toward the port on the far side of town. With both Keeling and McLaughlin injured and Cerise gone, the Oterian knew he was on his own. His fears were even more reinforced by the fact that neither Keryn nor Adam had responded during any of the dialogue between the rest of the team. Rombard cursed loudly into the radio before reaching down and scooping up Keeling in one of his enormous arms. The Uligart curled into a ball and groaned at the sudden movement. Breaking their cover, Rombard sprinted down the street; Keeling’s screams growing increasingly louder as the Uligart tried to stop the shaking in his intestines.
The town’s blocks flew by in a blur as Rombard’s massive legs picked up momentum and he charged toward the rear of the town. Around him, muted only by Keeling’s yells of pain, the gunfire increased. He felt the sting of rounds grazing his muscular legs and arms and felt the bite of a round connecting with his left shoulder. Through it all, he continued moving, knowing that to stay in one place was certain death.
Though the air was full of the sound of gunfire, Rombard heard a single round echo through the air louder than any other. The town seemed to grow suddenly quieter as blood splashed across the Oterian’s face. Staggering to a slow walk, Rombard looked down at the now silent body cradled in his arms. Keeling’s head lolled forward, drooping limply and rolling from side to side. The entire back of his head was split open; his dark blood splashed across the Uligart’s clothing and staining Rombard’s fur.
Snarling, Rombard dropped the body and swung back toward the approaching townsfolk. Clutching his heavy rifle, the Oterian switched the selector switch to fully automatic as he braced himself for the impending recoil. As
