The door of my stall shook, like Julian had kicked it, and then I heard his footsteps recede as well.
I pressed my back to the wall, closing my eyes as I let out a slow breath. I was almost five thousand miles from home, and I’d managed to end up in the exact same place. Locked in a room.
The anger and panic rose up so suddenly that I had to crouch down and bury my head in my knees. Tears slid down my cheeks. Outside, the voices grew distant and then faded. I was alone.
42
The silence was strange. I’d been surrounded by people, constantly, for weeks. Silence reminded me of home, of tiptoeing around in the morning so I wouldn’t wake Dad. It reminded me of sitting on the porch that last night in Dallas, watching Laurence lug the painting across the yard.
It felt different, though. I’d felt so helpless, so trapped in that silence at home. It hadn’t occurred to me until now how rarely I’d felt helpless since joining the teams.
I stood, wiping the tears off my cheeks. I had to get out. Julian was coming back, and he mostly likely planned to feed me to a scrab. And the team would be here soon. I wasn’t going to just curl into a ball and cry while they fought off thirty scrabs.
I kicked the door, but it was far sturdier than the one in my bedroom. I wasn’t going to be able to just a kick a hole through it. I stood back, considering for a minute.
The ax strapped to my calf tickled my skin.
Right. I had weapons this time. I said a silent thank you to Edan.
I grabbed the ax, unfolded it and locked the handle. I swung it at the door.
It lodged in the wood, and I had to pull hard to free it. I swung again. And again, and again.
I heard a yell from outside.
I swung faster.
I finally made a hole big enough to stick my hand through, and I fumbled around, searching for the lock. I twisted it free. The door swung open.
I launched out of the stall, tripping on the door frame and almost face-planting in the dirt. I found my balance, ax still gripped in my hand. It was the only good weapon I had at the moment.
I burst through the door of the stables. The field in front of me was empty, the shipping container next to the barn now closed. The sun was completely gone. There were lights on either end of the barns and at the back of the house, but they cast only a faint glow over the area.
I broke into a run.
A scream sounded from the front of the house. My feet pounded the grass harder.
I raced past the barn, to the house, and skidded to a stop. Two police cars were on the street behind the truck, doors ajar. The bodies of four officers littered the front lawn. Two scrabs stood nearby rigidly. Another was next to one of the bodies, breathing heavily and snarling.
Julian stood on the porch, tablet in hand. He was completely still, staring at the scene in front of him.
“What did you do?” Webb yelled. He burst out of the house, staring at the dead officers. “Did you order them to attack the cops?”
“They had guns!” Julian’s voice was shrill, panicked. “They were yelling at me, and—”
“They had scrab Tasers, you moron!” Webb shouted. “The police here don’t carry guns!”
Julian’s face was oddly blank, and he hadn’t noticed me standing to his left. “They saw the scrabs.” His voice was calm as he pointed to where ten scrabs stood in front of one of the trucks. “So I think the words you’re looking for right now are thank you.”
Webb reeled back a little. “Damn, kid.”
“Stop calling me that,” Julian snapped.
A hand landed on my shoulder, and I jumped, a gasp escaping my mouth. I whirled around to find Madison.
She tugged me to the side of the house before Julian saw us. I squeezed her hand, nearly weak with relief.
“Where’s the rest of the team?” I asked.
“They’re here. We didn’t think it was a good idea to just roll up to the front door. Are you OK? What happened? Did they lose control of the scrabs?”
I shook my head, tears welling up in my eyes. I wasn’t even sure why I was crying. I felt overwhelmed. “Julian did that. He sent the scrabs after those officers.”
“Christ,” Madison muttered. She lifted her phone to her ear. “Yeah, Grayson? I’ve got her. You’re clear.”
“What’s he doing?” I asked.
“Explosives. He’s blowing up those transports. He wanted to make sure you weren’t nearby first.”
“They’re releasing some scrabs at north and south checkpoints, wherever that is.”
Madison’s fingers flew over her screen as she typed. “OK. I’m letting everyone know. UK team thirteen went for the other truck, and we’ve got another American team close behind, but that’s all we could get on short notice.” She read something on her screen and cursed. “They’ve got scrabs on either end of the street. Those must be the checkpoints. American team four is getting slammed.”
Movement caught my eye. Laila was jogging toward us, machete in one hand, a weapons pack in the other. She tossed it to me. “Come on. Grayson’s handling the explosives. He wants us to get out of here and go help the team down the street.”
I grabbed a machete and my sword baton out of the weapons pack, and then strapped it to my back as we ran.
“Hey!” The hoarse, angry scream belonged to Julian. I dared a glance over my shoulder. I stopped.
Julian was running away from the house, furious gaze on something across the field. Edan. He was backing out of the big barn, his phone in front of him like he was taking a video. He shoved the phone into his pocket and took off, machete swinging in one hand. Gage and Dorsey were behind
