Page 74 of I Will Mend You
He freezes twenty feet away, raising his palms. His chest heaves like a bellows, but the panic won’t last. In a minute, he’ll work out that the weapon is useless. Then he’ll tackle me to the ground like he did at the airport and carry me back to the bus.
I could run, but the past few days with X-Cite Media have sapped my strength. Either way, I’m screwed.
Pressure coils around my chest, threatening to crush my lungs. The forest is silent, save for our labored breathing. Grunt’s gaze flickers to the gun, then back to my eyes, his jaw moving behind the white mask.
Xero places a hand on my shoulder, but it does nothing to ease the tension. “Take your finger off the trigger. Time to switch up tactics.”
Grunt takes a tentative step forward. “Put down the gun, Amy.”
My throat tightens. He knows. Knows the gun is useless. Knows I’m powerless. Knows it’s only a matter of time before he bundles me back onto that bus.
Leaves rustle overhead, mingling with the whir of tiny helicopter blades. Imagining them as a hallucination, Ignore the sound and focus on the immediate threat.
“I told you to stay back,” I snarl.
“What are you doing?” he asks. “Delta is on his way. We have to get out of here. Now.”
My stomach plummets like a lead weight to the forest floor, hitting it with a painful thud. The mere thought of spending another minute in Delta’s company makes my spine stiffen with dread. Every nerve ignites, sparking with the idea that I might be able to steal the bus.
Gathering lungfuls of courage, I charge at Grunt, still pointing the gun at his chest.
“Don’t do this, Amy.” He steps back, widening his stance, bracing himself for impact.
I pick up speed on a collision course, powered by adrenaline and fear. He twitches, ready to scoop me off my feet. At the last minute, I duck beneath his arm and sprint through the trees, back toward the road.
“Follow me and I really will shoot,” I scream over my shoulder.
Trees whizz past in a blur. The bus is only seconds away, its door left open. If I can get to the driver’s seat before Grunt, then I’ll finally have a chance to escape.
My breath comes in ragged gasps, my muscles screaming with each painful step. I keep pushing forward, fueled by a heady cocktail of desperation and terror.
Grunt’s heavy footsteps rumble after me as I reach the road, making every hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I’mgoing to fail. This detour will have meant nothing. Then Delta will catch up with the bus and kill us both.
Gunshots ring out from above, making my steps falter. I glance back to see Grunt falling to the ground in a rain of bullets.
My jaw drops, and my heart tumbles into my stomach. What the hell? How did Delta send that drone so quickly? It’s hovering above the treetops, its cameras turning on me.
“You’re next,” Xero snarls. “Run!”
I whirl around, finding a black car racing toward us from the direction of the asylum. Panic kicks me in the heart. It’s probably Delta, come to drag me back to die.
Pouring every ounce of energy into my legs, I charge at the bus. Its faded yellow exterior glints in the sun like a last glimmer of hope. The drone follows me, raining gunfire. I’m so numbed by fear and cortisol that my body doesn’t even feel the bullets. I clamber up into the bus and jump into the driver’s seat.
But when I grab the steering wheel, its ignition key is gone.
“No!” I cry out loud.
Grunt must have pulled it out when he stopped the engine. It’s probably in his pocket.
“What am I going to do now?”
“You know what to do,” Xero growls and nods toward the tree.
He’s right. There’s a gun battle outside, but something’s off. The drone and the man in the car—both sent by Delta—are shooting at each other. Why? I pause, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. Could they be working against each other now? Fighting over who gets to take me down? Or is my brain malfunctioning again and conjuring up a savior? It’s possible. I killed Xero, yet he’s at my side, helping me escape.
Either way, I need to prepare myself to fight whoever’s left standing.
I slide off the driver’s seat and stay low, crawling toward the vehicle’s rear. Every nerve flares on red alert, making me super sensitive to the gunfight. The drone’s firing is relentless, with bullets hitting metal, but the person in the car fires back with precise shots.