“Thanks,” Dorsey said as I extended a hand to help him up.
I watched as the Mexican team easily took out the scrab. It hit the ground with a thud, and they turned away from it, practically in unison. They stuck close together as they ran away from it. They had clearly practiced staying together in battle.
Where was my team?
The area immediately around me had cleared out some—it looked like most of the scrabs were down the street where Grayson had been. Recruits ran in that direction. Civilians ran opposite. A lady bumped my shoulder as she went, blood dripping from the claw marks across her chest.
I spotted Edan a few yards away, spear in one hand, baton in another. He swung his baton at a scrab’s belly. He missed. It swiped at him. Edan easily ducked it. Behind him, a different scrab, this one with blood on its fangs, spat out what was left of the person it had just torn apart. My stomach turned over.
“Come on!” I yelled to Dorsey as I took off. The scrab behind Edan had its gaze on him. It lunged.
Edan noticed in the nick of time, hitting the ground and scrambling away so that the two scrabs ended up swiping at each other instead. They both spun to face Edan.
I shot forward, surprising the bloody scrab. My blade slid across its belly, and it lurched forward, front claws hitting the ground. Dorsey darted in from the side and stuck his machete into the scrab’s neck. It slumped lifeless to the ground.
The other scrab was dead too. Edan pulled his spear from its neck, his gaze catching mine.
“Thanks,” he said breathlessly. His eyes widened suddenly, and he grabbed my waist with one hand, spinning me away from something I couldn’t see. With his other hand, he thrust his spear into the air.
The scrab batted it away. It slipped from Edan’s hand and clattered to the ground. I dove forward, reaching for the Taser on my waist. I aimed and fired.
The scrab jolted. Edan grabbed his spear, darted right under the scrab, and thrust it up. He scampered away as the scrab started to fall.
“Damn, that dude is fast,” Dorsey breathed.
A crash made all three of us jump. Half a block away, two scrabs had just tipped a car over. Another scrab fell on top of it, shaking from the Taser darts in its chest. Grayson sprang forward, swinging his bladed club so hard the scrab’s feet left the ground.
Edan took off down the street, Dorsey and me at his heels. We had to dart around bodies, both human and scrab. I swallowed as I passed a dead recruit missing several limbs.
A French team was fighting a scrab not far from Grayson, and I watched as three members used their blades at once. They were also sticking together, fighting as a team. Julian hadn’t mentioned us staying together during battle.
I took a quick look around, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. That scrab had popped up so close to him. Had he been killed?
“That one!” Grayson yelled, pointing at something down the street. He was talking to us, I realized. A scrab ran down the street toward the French team, limping slightly. Edan had already taken off.
I ran behind him, skidding to a stop when he did. The scrab lumbered toward us, showing its mouthful of fangs as it roared. I gripped my baton tighter.
“You go for the belly, I’ll go for the neck,” Edan said. I nodded.
The scrab’s feet left the ground as it dove for us. I darted to one side. Edan went to the other. I thrust my blade forward. Its claws swiped my arm above my armor, and I gasped at the sudden pain. I tightened my grip on my baton, plunging it forward until it tore into the scrab’s belly. A spear went straight through its neck. It crashed into the ground face first.
Edan stood on the other side of the scrab. His eyes flicked to my arm. Blood oozed from claw marks.
“It’s just a scratch,” I said, wiping the back of my hand across the sweat on my brow. I turned to look for another scrab.
It was quiet, I realized. The roars had stopped. On the other side of the street, Grayson pulled a blade from a scrab he’d killed. There were three more in his immediate area, sprawled on the ground, blood seeping out of their wounds.
There were dead scrabs everywhere. I counted at least twenty, just on this street. And up ahead, at the intersection, I could see several more.
But there were way more human bodies. Dead recruits up and down the street, blood staining their uniforms and spilling onto the asphalt. A few yards away, a man pressed down on his badly bleeding leg, several people surrounding him to help.
“Where’s the rest of team seven?” Edan said. His voice sounded strange.
“I don’t know.”
Sirens sounded in the distance. Grayson stood amongst the bodies, both hands in his hair. He was searching for something. He finally found it, his face practically crumpling with relief. I turned to look. Madison. She was covered in blood, holding the handle of a machete that had somehow lost its blade. She tossed it aside and gave Grayson a tired thumbs-up.
“Team seven!”
I whirled around. It was Julian, in the middle of the intersection where I’d last seen him. He was OK. Blood covered his hands and arms, and his shirt was torn down the middle, like he’d narrowly escaped claws, but I didn’t see any injuries.
“I said I don’t know!” he yelled at an American team leader next to him. The man’s shoulders sagged, and he quickly walked away. “Team seven!” Julian yelled again. He didn’t see me and Edan. We started toward him.
As we entered the intersection, I saw recruits headed to him from all sides. Relief coursed through my veins as I spotted them. Priya, breathing heavily. Patrick, holding a hand to his bloody
