out—and, at the first available opportunity, to run.
The machines finally cease firing, but I still hear their signature whirring some distance off. Ulrich lobs a few grenades in their direction—as a distraction, I suspect, more than anything else—and I take the opportunity to make a break for where they’re huddled. The plan is to run away, but I can’t just abandon Ulrich and Samuel to save my own skin.
As soon as I’m out in the open, I realize my mistake. Gunfire tears up the ground around me, showering me in frost. I don’t stop moving. If I stop moving, I’m dead. One shot grazes my shoulder, but I keep going, trusting the damage can be dealt with later. If there is a later.
I hazard a guess as to the machines’ locations, haphazardly firing while I kick up snow. The energy passes between the dissected trees, and I hear the sizzle of frying wires.
Score one for the good guys.
Samuel reaches out and pulls me behind the boulders with him as soon as I’m close enough. “What
was that
?” His voice has taken on a high, shrill quality. “You almost just got yourself killed!
Again!
”
“Almost,” I answer, wheezing and still short of breath. “But not quite. Can we argue about this later?”
“No more time!” Ulrich nearly has to shout to be heard above the racket. The pained edge in his voice grates on my instincts, and I realize what’s wrong—Ulrich’s been shot. Something’s punctured his side, judging by the way he’s hunched over, but I can’t tell how bad the injury is because his dark jacket is soaking up most of the blood. “Go. I will distract them. I will cover your escape.”
A terrible, nameless feeling grips me. I search his eyes for the goodbye he isn’t saying. “And who will cover yours?”
He shakes his head. “I can handle myself.”
“You’re already bleeding!”
“So are you.”
My nose again. I reach up, smearing blood onto my glove.
Dammit.
I’d hoped it was just a fluke. Clearly I’m still far from a hundred percent. But right now, that’s not important.
“It’s suicide. There are God only knows how many of them and only one of you. One
wounded
you.”
“Even wounded, I am worth at least five machines. Six on a good day.”
The joke upsets me for some reason. My eyes burn.
“No,” I state firmly. “Samuel, tell him.”
But Samuel, with his apologetic-doe look, is all reason. “It’s Ulrich’s call, Rhona. He’s right. Someone has to stay back or we’ll all die.”
I refuse to let cooler heads prevail when it means death for one of us. I look helplessly at Ulrich. “There has to be another way.”
“If they take you alive…” Samuel begins to say.
“They will not take me alive,” Ulrich assures him.
In the lull as the machines reload, Ulrich shoves both Samuel and me in the direction of the shallow end of the embankment, where it might be possible to climb.
“
Go!
” he commands.
My body betrays me, my sense of fight or flight overriding everything else. Forced back into the open, we probably have only seconds to get on top of the embankment, or we’ll find our graves beneath it. With one push, Ulrich took away all other options and condemned himself.
Stupid, selfless bastard.
The embankment is hard, making for an easier climb, although I still slip twice. It’s possible Samuel was a squirrel in another life, because he scrambles up with surprising agility, then gives me a hand. His timing is impeccable. As the machines come within sight and the snow beneath us lights up with red dots—targeting reticles—we’re out of range.
I have time enough for one last look at Ulrich, and I make the most of it, trying to memorize his face and posture. I don’t want to forget his bravery.
I don’t want to forget
him.
Ulrich sees me, nods, and crosses an arm over his chest. I don’t recognize the sign, but I guess its meaning. It breaks my heart. Samuel tugs at my sleeve just as I’m returning the gesture. We have to go.
We
The machines finally cease firing, but I still hear their signature whirring some distance off. Ulrich lobs a few grenades in their direction—as a distraction, I suspect, more than anything else—and I take the opportunity to make a break for where they’re huddled. The plan is to run away, but I can’t just abandon Ulrich and Samuel to save my own skin.
As soon as I’m out in the open, I realize my mistake. Gunfire tears up the ground around me, showering me in frost. I don’t stop moving. If I stop moving, I’m dead. One shot grazes my shoulder, but I keep going, trusting the damage can be dealt with later. If there is a later.
I hazard a guess as to the machines’ locations, haphazardly firing while I kick up snow. The energy passes between the dissected trees, and I hear the sizzle of frying wires.
Score one for the good guys.
Samuel reaches out and pulls me behind the boulders with him as soon as I’m close enough. “What
was that
?” His voice has taken on a high, shrill quality. “You almost just got yourself killed!
Again!
”
“Almost,” I answer, wheezing and still short of breath. “But not quite. Can we argue about this later?”
“No more time!” Ulrich nearly has to shout to be heard above the racket. The pained edge in his voice grates on my instincts, and I realize what’s wrong—Ulrich’s been shot. Something’s punctured his side, judging by the way he’s hunched over, but I can’t tell how bad the injury is because his dark jacket is soaking up most of the blood. “Go. I will distract them. I will cover your escape.”
A terrible, nameless feeling grips me. I search his eyes for the goodbye he isn’t saying. “And who will cover yours?”
He shakes his head. “I can handle myself.”
“You’re already bleeding!”
“So are you.”
My nose again. I reach up, smearing blood onto my glove.
Dammit.
I’d hoped it was just a fluke. Clearly I’m still far from a hundred percent. But right now, that’s not important.
“It’s suicide. There are God only knows how many of them and only one of you. One
wounded
you.”
“Even wounded, I am worth at least five machines. Six on a good day.”
The joke upsets me for some reason. My eyes burn.
“No,” I state firmly. “Samuel, tell him.”
But Samuel, with his apologetic-doe look, is all reason. “It’s Ulrich’s call, Rhona. He’s right. Someone has to stay back or we’ll all die.”
I refuse to let cooler heads prevail when it means death for one of us. I look helplessly at Ulrich. “There has to be another way.”
“If they take you alive…” Samuel begins to say.
“They will not take me alive,” Ulrich assures him.
In the lull as the machines reload, Ulrich shoves both Samuel and me in the direction of the shallow end of the embankment, where it might be possible to climb.
“
Go!
” he commands.
My body betrays me, my sense of fight or flight overriding everything else. Forced back into the open, we probably have only seconds to get on top of the embankment, or we’ll find our graves beneath it. With one push, Ulrich took away all other options and condemned himself.
Stupid, selfless bastard.
The embankment is hard, making for an easier climb, although I still slip twice. It’s possible Samuel was a squirrel in another life, because he scrambles up with surprising agility, then gives me a hand. His timing is impeccable. As the machines come within sight and the snow beneath us lights up with red dots—targeting reticles—we’re out of range.
I have time enough for one last look at Ulrich, and I make the most of it, trying to memorize his face and posture. I don’t want to forget his bravery.
I don’t want to forget
him.
Ulrich sees me, nods, and crosses an arm over his chest. I don’t recognize the sign, but I guess its meaning. It breaks my heart. Samuel tugs at my sleeve just as I’m returning the gesture. We have to go.
We
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