Marked
Chapter 47

She couldn’t move.

They emerged from the White House and into a cloud of smoke where the streets remained littered with unmoving bodies. Some of them were still within their techy cars, others lingering in outdoor restaurant tables, all sleeping as if the world had shut off the lights only to them in that moment.

Hector didn’t miss a beat as he stood, Rachel still in his arms, scanned the city and decided on the best course of action.

“That way,” he jerked his chin. His companions nodded their agreement. Together, they wound around the Marked Ones, careful not to step on any of them. The masks apparently kept them safe from the dizzying effects of the fog.

Hector’s face, through his mask, was set, all angles and sharp features. Her cheek rested against the curve of his neck as she worked on breathing through the pain. Her extremities were tingling and her lower back was on fire even though Hector had already yanked the dart from her body.

The fog around them made it difficult to see much but she could hear her breathing, all distorted through the plastic of her mask, Hector’s heartbeat, wild, sporadic, a cacophony of all these sounds blending together into a ringing in her ears.

“We’re almost out of here, just hang on tight,” Hector said to her. She looked up to where the twisting spires of the city buildings reached into the sky, all tinged a green color as if they’d eaten something that had upset their stomachs.

Everything was a blur of colors, of wind slapping her face as they stormed through the city, of gunshots echoing somewhere far away.

At least the pain in her foot was gone.

Each step Hector took vibrated in her skull, and rattled her teeth. She felt nauseous and wondered if her cheeks were turning as green as the fog.

Somewhere in the distance, she could hear a gentle whooshing sound as if a flock of birds was flapping their wings in unison. She searched the patches of blue that managed to escape the fog but she could see no birds.

“Poachers up ahead!” Someone shouted.

Hector hitched her up higher in his arms, cursed under his breath, and ducked behind one of the buildings.

“Put me down,” She slurred. “I gotta help...”

“Not a chance.” He replied, sounding winded. She strained to see a group of poachers-- now clad in special suits and masks of their own--approaching them, their grey uniforms weaving in and out of the fog.

The ground beneath them hummed with electricity. A few blue sparks rose up between the cracks in the sidewalks and she sucked in a breath, expecting everyone to go down in a fit of convulsions but Hector and the others continued to jog as if nothing had happened.

“The electricity--” she said.

“It’s the rubber on our shoes.”

“This is bad.” The feeling was beginning to come back to her fingertips. Still, her hand felt like a weight as she lifted it to touch his cheek.

“What do you mean?” He was out of breath now. She could hear Aaron shouting out orders as gunshots bounced off from wall to wall. The fog was beginning to dissolve as if it was being sucked into the ground and the flapping noise had grown stronger, alerting her that they were closer to whatever was creating it.

A bullet chipped a piece of concrete next to them. Hector recoiled, shifted his shoulders so that the pieces of rock and dust hit his back. He winced; the metal of his gun bit deep into her thigh where it hung uselessly because of her.

“The fog is starting to let up. An army of poachers will be here soon. You should just put me down and go. I know Nicolas won’t hurt me but I can’t say the same for you.”

“No—no way. We worked too hard to get you out of there and I’m not letting anyone take you away from me again.”

“Just put me down, I think I can feel my legs now.”

“Rachel, please stop asking, it’s not gonna happen.”

He threw himself back onto the streets, hopped up onto the moving beltway beneath him, and allowed it to propel them forward, his boots striking the rubber conveyor belt with hollow thuds.

Gunshots beat the ground and walls around them, coming oh so close. Rachel buried her face against his neck, too afraid that any moment one of the bullets would strike him and he would fall to ground dead.

“You can’t do this for much longer,” She exclaimed. “You need to put me down.”

“It’s okay,” He rasped. “My dad’s idea of a game when I was a kid.“—He sucked in air— “Was making us run around the back of the farm shooting paintballs at each other. Perks of having a cop for a dad, I guess, and it helped me get really good at running.”

They were close enough to the city’s edge now that she could see the break coming up ahead between two buildings. Aaron and the masked men were a few yards away trying to clear a path for them to get through while poachers littered their escape route. Behind them, a giant object hovered above the ground, looking like a massive, metal bird.

“That’s our ride,” Hector told her.

Long, shining blades sat on top of it and whipped furiously, emitting the noise she’d confused with flapping wings before. The masked man who had been stunned by the dart in the leg was struggling to run; one of his companions came up behind him, slung his arm over his shoulder while continuing to shoot with his other hand.

They used the cars for cover, jumping behind them to avoid the onslaught of bullets. These poachers were not shooting darts and she figured maybe Nicolas’s plans had changed and now he just wanted them all dead instead.

Hector ducked behind a metal trash bin, and gulped down big mouthfuls of air as he set her down next to him. He rummaged through his vest as she watched him with panic-filled eyes.

“They’re blocking the way!” Aaron shouted from a few yards away, to their right. He had his back pressed against the sleek metal of a car, face drenched in sweat, gun hugged tightly to his body. “And there’s more coming up around the south side, that way.” He jerked his gun behind him.

“I’ve got two left, how bout you?” Hector asked while holding up two little, green grenades.

“All out.” The fog was all but gone now which meant the rest of the poachers would have no trouble reaching them—if they didn’t get out of there and soon they’d all be in Nicolas’ possession.

As she waited, she tested her limbs—they seemed to be working just fine. “Robinson’s got one left, though. Hey Robinson, can you hear me?”

“I hear ya,” The one named Robinson shouted back. He was somewhere in front of them though she couldn’t see him. “Man, listen, Tony’s been hit; shit, I—I don’t even know if he’s breathing.”

“Fuck,” Aaron muttered. “Cover me.” Aaron peered around the car and Rachel resisted the urge to do the same. Hector readied his weapon, stood for a moment, and shot out a round of bullets. When the poachers retaliated, he ducked back down, pressed up against the trash bin, and couldn’t quite keep the concern from his eyes.

“It’s gonna be okay.” He said to her. His face was sweaty, the dirt washed away by perspiration. She could see poachers coming closer through the reflection in a bakery window—at least twenty of them on one side and another five coming to merge from a southbound street.

She moved up onto her knees, and realizing that her legs were now functioning, she made a rash decision.

There was no way Hector was getting out of there alive unless she did something about it.

Without a second thought, she yanked the grenades from his vest and jumped out onto the middle of the street. Except her legs weren’t as strong as she’d anticipated and she fell hard onto her knees.

“Rachel, what the hell are you doing?”

Hector followed after her and as soon as he came into view, bullets began to pelt the ground where he stood, missing him by mere inches.

Rachel scrambled to her feet and jumped in front of Hector, shielding as much of his body as she could with her own.

She spread her arms out and faced the poachers. Almost immediately the bullets stopped, though she could still hear their echo ricocheting down the city block.

She wondered if Nicolas had broadcasted her face to every poacher so that they knew not to shoot her. At least, she hoped that was what was happening now or else they were both dead.

“Stop!” She screamed. “Everyone stay where you are.”

The poachers were lined up perfectly across from her, about fifty feet away, in a uniform way that only the voice in their heads could command them to do. The buildings behind them began to glitter as rays of sunlight hit them at an angle, depositing gentle golden rays upon their uniforms, turning them from a dove gray to an incandescent taupe.

She held the grenades high in the air so they could get a clear look.

“Hector, go replace cover. Please, just trust me.”

“I’m not leaving you alone—”

“Please,” She begged. “They won’t hurt me.”

“Rachel—”

“I can’t focus on what I need to do while I’m worried about you being killed. Please.”

“Damn it, Rachel.”

She heard him shuffling away and saw him step safely behind the metal of a car although part of his body remained uncovered as he kept his gun trained on the poachers.

She’d never been a gambler but on this, she was willing to bet that Nicholas’s love would be enough to keep the poachers before her from shooting her dead.

“I know you can hear me, Nicolas,” She shouted. She glanced around her, watching the massive screens change from advertisements to an image of the man who claimed to be her father.

His temple where she’d struck him was still bloody; he hadn’t even bothered to clean up.

“You let them out of here now or I swear I’ll take the pins out of these babies and take as many of you as I can with me.”

“You’re being unreasonable,” Nicolas said to her.

“No, I’m being realistic.” She spat at him. “Guess I got that from you. So you either let them out of here, unharmed or you can watch me die.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Nicolas said gently. “If you kill yourself, Rachel, who is going to keep your boyfriend safe? With you gone, he is just another forehead to mark.”

Rachel glanced at Hector, still crouched by the car, his gun trained on the dozens of poachers across from her. It was a mistake. When she looked back at the screen, Nicolas was tilting his head, studying her.

She gritted her teeth and cursed herself. She took a few more steps toward the poachers, keeping her target in mind. Just a few more feet, just a few more steps should do it.

“But...if you come back, willingly, and stop fighting me I promise you that no harm will come to either one of you. I will keep you both safe.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Fine, then you leave me no choice. Grab him," He ordered. Rachel imagined an image of Hector traveling through each of the poacher’s minds and fear swept fast and harshly through her stomach.

Because Nicolas had realized, in that brief glance, that Rachel would stop fighting if Hector was in danger.

Several things happened at once.

A poacher neither she nor Hector had spotted rounded the opposite side of the car and dove for him. This gave the other poachers the courage to burst forward.

Rachel unpinned and chucked the grenades, not at the poachers but at a giant, flashing billboard suspended above them. The grenades exploded and the screen burst, sending glass and metal raining down on the soldiers below. They scattered in different directions while she flung an arm over her face, the debris nicking at her exposed skin.

A ringing in her ears left her momentarily dizzy and confused but when she searched for Hector, she found him on the ground.

The poacher had knocked his gun from his hands and they were struggling, the poacher’s hands on Hector’s vest.

Rachel grabbed a piece of scrap metal.

“Get off him. You can’t have him, he’s mine!”

Rachel slammed the piece of metal against the poacher’s back. It gave Hector enough time to recollect his weapon and shoot him.

He swung to look at her, breathing hard, his eyes scanning for injuries.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Two strides brought him in front of her. He gripped the sides of her face and pressed his forehead to hers. “Don’t try to be the hero again, you hear me?”

“I’ll stop when you sto—”

He pushed her out of the way just in time for a round of bullets to punish the earth. Like she’d done a few moments before, he shielded her with his body and tucked her head under his chin for protection.

This time she saw that the bullets were not coming from the poachers. Instead, they were streaming from the metal bird that had careened in a circle so that it now faced the city, peeking through two parallel buildings.

“Come on,” He grabbed her hand, and together they sprinted towards the metal bird.

As soon as they came into view, the bullets stopped. They passed poachers, some dead, others injured, others scrambling still to gather their bearings.

Aaron and the man she assumed to be Robinson carried another man—Tony—by the arms and legs. The other two came barging down from their own hiding spots.

They ran together—freedom was now in sight.

The soaring metal contraption floated in the air, disturbing the scorched grass that now covered the clearing leading up to the city’s entrance, the only evidence that the bunker people and their bombs had ever been there.

No poachers patrolled this area, not this time, but the wall of electricity still rippled like always. The metal bird was waiting right on the other side of the wall.

The closer they got, the more the flapping of its blades caused dirt to slap her in the face and lodge in her eyes.

That’s when it happened. The ground around them exploded. The explosion sent Aaron, Tony and Robinson flying into the air, made Hector tackle her to the floor as a wave of heat passed over them.

Looking behind them she saw a poacher holding a tubular object that was easily as tall as he. Smoke was still rising from it and he readied to shoot again, this time aiming for the metal bird.

The metal bird shot at him and bullets beat against the ground, sending dirt spraying up into the air. In the next moment, the flying piece of metal let out a wave of blue light, like an explosion of its own. The wall around the city stammered momentarily, letting the bird through.

“Go, I’ll hold him back!” Hector exclaimed. Before she could protest, she felt a hand wrap around her elbow, began pulling her away.

“What-no! I thought we’d agreed on no more hero stuff!”

“I said no such thing," Hector shot her a tiny, rueful smile and then he disappeared into the smoke created by the explosion.

“Don’t,” Aaron warned. “He’s trying to protect you so don’t you go get him killed by being stupid.”

She felt glued to her spot on the ground until she realized Aaron was right. Hector would never stop trying to protect her. She was his liability. He was hers.

Turning, she let her legs beat the earth as she ran, each step sending a shooting pain through her foot but bringing her close to the metal bird where a rope ladder now hung out from. The dust it kicked up made it difficult to see where she was going but she counted on Aaron to lead the way. Up ahead, Robinson struggled to get Tony onto a blue stretcher hanging beside the rope.

“Hector,” She called out, her fingers reaching through the storm of dust but replaceing nothing.

Aaron ushered her onto the ladder. She wrapped her fingers against the coarse rope, climbed as fast as she could manage and when she reached the top, a pair of hands pulled her in the rest of the way.

A man with a red cross over the back of his jacket was pumping Tony’s chest while the other masked men trained their guns out of the gaping hole on the side of the metal contraption.

“We’ve gotta go,” the pilot announced.

“You can’t!” She exclaimed. “Hector’s still down there!”

“If we don’t get this helicopter out of here now they’ll know where we are and we won’t be able to camouflage under their radar!”

“Please,” She dug her nails into Aaron’s arm. “Tell him to wait, please, we can’t leave him behind.”

Aaron smacked his lips together into a thin line, his eyes trained on the dust ridden ground beneath them.

“Come on, Hector, come on. Come on, man, where are you?”

The helicopter began to ascend, jerking and rumbling as it moved. Rachel threw her hands out to catch onto the first thing she could replace—a metal bar, attached to the side of the opening. Her heart thudded against her ribcage; yanking her mask off, she bent forward, willed herself to see Hector among the cloud of brown dust.

The helicopter tilted slightly and then they were moving up into the sky. The same flash of blue erupted from the surrounding metal, though from inside the helicopter it looked much different, like a flash of lightening.

“No, no, no, no. Let me down! Let me down!” She tried to move forward but Aaron wrapped his arms around her shoulders, effectively holding her down.

The sky around her became blue, no longer littered by buildings. Each foot they put between them and the ground was another foot away she was from Hector. She sat back onto her ankles, unable to believe that she had lost him again after only just being reunited with him. Her mouth hung open in a little ‘o’ of shock, her mind unable to process anything, numbed by disbelief.

The rope hanging from the helicopter rattled. She scrambled forward and saw him, saw Hector dangling from the second to the last wrung, his entire body covered in dirt again.

“A little help guys,” He shouted up.

“Oh, thank God!” She cried. Aaron laughed beside her as he and his friend began lugging the ladder back into the tiny space.

“You lucky son of a bitch.” Aaron shouted down to Hector.

Once he was close enough, Aaron held out a hand that Hector clasped and used to tumble into the helicopter. As soon as he was inside, he collapsed onto his back, stared up at the ceiling with dirt-coated eyelashes, and let out a deep sigh.