The 88th Floor by Benjamin Sperduto Page A

pushed into the
crowd. The terrified mob pressed in on them from all sides as Lyov
shoved people aside with his free arm. He spotted a gap between the
flames on the far side of the street and jostled through the human
sea to reach it before the Dikarie closed in on them. Finally, he
emerged from the crowd with his family in tow. They raced through
the gap before burning debris fell to cut off the passage.
    Screams filled the air behind them only
seconds after they escaped.
    Lyov guided them between the rows of houses
and slipped past the stables, where the Dikarie slaughtered the
horses to prevent anyone’s escape. They turned south once they
cleared the stables and made their way around another row of
burning buildings to reach the clearing on the edge of town.
    The fighting there had not been as fierce as
at the main gate, but dozens of bodies still lay strewn across the
mud, some armed, some defenseless. A few, surviving militiamen
struggled to fend off the Dikarie packs on the near side of the
clearing.
    For a moment, Lyov admired their
courage.
    Then he realized that the Dikarie were
toying with them, each one darting in to land minor blows and
prolong the bloody, inevitable outcome. The fiends made a horrible
sound as the spectacle went on, something like a cross between a
dog’s barking and a mule’s braying.
    It might have been laughter.
    On the far side of the clearing, Lyov saw
the palisade’s south gate standing open and unguarded. If they
hurried, they might be able to make it there before the Dikarie
could converge on them.
    “ This way,” he
said.
    They ran into the clearing, dodging past
overturned wagons and leaping over the dead bodies strewn through
the mud. For a moment, Lyov thought they might escape notice, but
then he heard one of the fiends cry out, and he turned to see a
small pack assembling to run them down.
    Lyov cursed and tried to turn his family
back toward the town. The Dikarie would surely catch them before
they crossed the clearing. They would have to try to lose them
amidst the burning buildings and make for one of the other
gates.
    But before they could fully come about, a
large group of townsfolk poured into the clearing, fleeing the
flames and killers at their heels. The Dikarie hesitated before
many of them broke away to chase after the new arrivals. They fell
upon them mercilessly, bashing in skulls and shattering limbs with
each swing of their clubs. Dying screams mixed with elated war
cries created a frightful death song.
    Lyov made the most of the distraction and
led his family toward the gate. Once outside, they would be able to
make for the forest and get to a more fortified settlement. Kver
was only two days to the east on foot.
    If they could reach its walls, they would be
safe there.
    Anushka’s sudden cry snapped Lyov’s
attention back to his surroundings. He turned to find Ilya crumpled
on the ground, his head slick with blood. A Dikarie stood over him,
raising his club to deliver another blow. Lyov drew his sword and
charged before the savage could attack again. Rage lent extra fury
to Lyov’s assault, and he overwhelmed the surprised Dikarie with a
flurry of crippling strikes. The club fell from his hands as Lyov
knocked him to the ground, but the savage drew a small, spiked
weapon from his belt and lunged forward to stab the point into
Lyov’s thigh. The pain did not register immediately, and Lyov sent
the Dikarie sprawling backward with a strong kick. A final,
powerful stroke half-ripped the savage’s head from his
shoulders.
    Lyov tried to help his son stand, but the
effort was wasted. Although Ilya still drew breath, his skull was
cracked and bloodied. Lyov eased the boy down as Ilya’s body
twitched violently. Anushka fell over her son and cried out,
hysterical.
    Just a few dozen yards away, the Dikarie
finished their slaughter of the unfortunate stragglers. Luckily,
only a few of the savages had spotted them and the path to the
south gate remained open. Lyov