“The second you go orange, you fall back,” I say, looking at each of them in turn, remembering what Jackson told me about Richelle and what she ought to have done the night the Drau killed her. “We all get pulled together at the end of this. I’m not leaving anyone behind. I don’t know what’s waiting for us up there, and I don’t know if we’ll get separated. But my standing order is that if you go orange, it’s defensive position all the way. You hang back. You stay alive—” A horrific cry carries down from above us, making the little hairs on my forearms stand on end. “You stay alive,” I repeat.
And then we’re going up, our feet carrying us toward the death cries that float down from the floors above.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE DRAU RUSH AT US FROM ALL SIDES, FLASHES OF LIGHT and deadly threat. So many of them, like locusts swarming a field. There’s no grace to my movements anymore, no vestige of smooth kendo footwork. There’s only the leaden weight of my arm as I hack and slash, the sweat dripping in my eyes and down my back. The fear chewing at my soul. Cries echo all around me, and from the corner of my eye, I see someone from another team drop and lie still.
Panting, I aim and shoot at any glowing thing that moves as I sidestep toward the fallen body. I am in the midst of pandemonium. Screams. Howls of agony. The smell of blood and burning flesh. Pressing my back to the wall, I squat and lay my fingers on the side of the girl’s throat. I don’t see her chest moving. I don’t feel a pulse. Without looking down at her, my gaze scanning back and forth for any threat, I grab her shoulder and roll her onto her back. Her arm flops down and I glance at her con. Red, like Richelle’s was red. She’s gone.
I want to mourn even though I didn’t know her at all. I don’t dare take my eyes from any possible threat to look down at her face. I don’t know what she looks like. I never will. But I mourn her nonetheless. I mourn all of them. We’ve been here for hours, or maybe it’s been days, moving floor to floor, clearing out the Drau, gathering remnants of the other teams.
My team has their orders. I gave them those orders. Pair up. Stay together. Try to keep each other in sight. That was the best I could do to ensure their safety. I’m working alone. Luka argued about that, but my will prevailed—one of the perks of being the one in charge. Actually, the only perk.
To my right, I catch sight of Luka and Tyrone. They’re side by side against the far wall, taking cover behind an overturned metal filing cabinet, shooting out anything that glows and moves. The sight of them gives me hope that we’ll somehow get out of here alive.
Retreat isn’t an option.
This group of Drau is stronger, faster, and far larger than what we encountered on our previous missions. We can’t let them go back and send reports to their mothership, or whatever it is they report back to. We can’t let them escalate the threat. I hadn’t thought of that until Luka pointed it out, but once he said it, I knew he was right. I think of the people I love: Dad, Carly, Kelley, Dee, Sarah, my aunt Gale, my cousins. So many people counting on us.
I think of Jackson and the fact that I didn’t tell him how I feel, didn’t tell him how angry I am for what he’s done to me. Didn’t tell him how much I care.
But I don’t dare think of that. It hurts too much. We left it with him thinking I hate him, that I couldn’t forgive him. But I think I can. Especially after seeing what I’ve seen today. The Drau will kill us all—every human on the entire planet—if they get the chance. If I can help make certain that they don’t get the chance, then that’s what I’ll do. My grandfather taught me all about loyalty and bravery and honor. If Sofu were standing here right now, he would fight.
A boy tears across the open space of the empty office and drops down to skid across the floor like he’s sliding into first base. A streak of light follows him, and I see the Drau’s weapon—fluid and jellylike, metallic, smooth, deadly. My own weapon is deadly, too, cold in my hand. I will it to fire. I shoot. I miss. The Drau’s attention shifts to me.
Terror clawing at me, I aim, I fire—
The Drau is pulled into the darkness.
The boy who was running is on the floor at my feet now, panting, his black hair slicked to his skull, his expression grim. He doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t thank me for saving his life. He doesn’t need to. Any second now, the tables could turn and he could be the one saving me. He keeps his gaze on our surroundings, ready to take out any threat while he reaches down and feels for the fallen girl’s pulse. I don’t say anything, even though I could tell him there’s nothing to find. The way he came tearing in this direction, risking so much, tells me that this girl was part of his team. Maybe she was something more to him.
Like Jackson is to me.
I wonder again if he’s here somewhere. On another floor of this building, facing the wave of Drau.
Or maybe his trade worked. Maybe the Committee set him free.
I want to believe that because I don’t want him anywhere near this. I want him safe. I want him free.
But he’s not. In my soul, I know it.