He couldn’t stop his eyes darting over in Zeke’s direction every few seconds. But both Zeke and Frankie held their own better than he could have ever imagined, dispatching monster after monster as they flung themselves at them.
“I’m all out of juice,” Splat shouted.
Every muscle in Noah’s body went rigid. If Splat was out of ammo, the rest of them wouldn’t be far behind. Noah ran over to Splat, who unsheathed his dagger. He slashed out at a type, plunging it through its rib cage with an audible cracking sound as he twisted the knife. At the same time, it bent its neck and bit deep into Splat’s forearm.
As he heard Splat’s shocked cry, Noah knew he was too late.
He lunged forward. Sharp fangs dragged themselves across naked flesh, making deep lacerations.
Noah cut the typeA’s throat with his dagger before sending it flying off the roof with a round kick.
“Where… what…?” Noah said, staring at Splat’s arm, where the black protective fabric of his undersuit should be.
“It tore it a few minutes ago.”
“But Stephen said it didn’t need replacing,” said Noah, as if that would magically fix everything. Their conversational tone masked the unspoken truth neither of them wanted to face.
Splat pulled something from his belt. His last bomb. His shaky hands clipped it to a chain wrapped around his stomach.
“Splat…”
By this time, the others surrounded them. Luo, Frankie and Zeke formed a defensive semi-circle, firing their last few rounds at the relentless wave of types. But Meredith dropped her weapon on the floor and stared at Splat’s arm, shell-shocked.
“I’m going to get as close to my kit box as possible,” said Splat, his voice even. “The rest of the gear in there should create enough of an explosion to turn this joint into a small crater for you guys. I’ll set it up so Zeke can detonate it when you guys have cleared the area. Let’s aim for sixty seconds max, Zeke. There won’t be much left of me after that, and you’ll have types leaving the feast to come after you.” Splat pressed something into Zeke’s hand before pulling his helmet off his head and throwing it to the side.
Meredith dropped to her knees, eyes downcast and Splat scooped his arms under her armpits, pulling her up and to him. Then Splat reached under his chest armour and removed his metal chain, his dog tags glinting in the light. He pressed them into her hand.
There was a moment of fuss where Meredith fought to get her helmet off and Splat fought for it to remain on her head. Eventually, she won, and Noah grabbed her helmet as Meredith threw her arms around Splat, burying her face in his neck.
He whispered something into her ear. She pulled back, lifting his chin up with her palms to gaze into his eyes.
Noah almost turned away. The look of pure love—twinged with regret for what could have been—that was passing between them was so intimate and intense it burned his soul.
It could have been a lifetime of happiness, of shared jokes, of Splat pulling on Meredith’s braids, of Meredith rolling her eyes at him.
But instead, it was this.
It was Splat stepping back.
It was Meredith pressing her knuckle to her lips, biting down, hard.
It was Splat crying out, “Sixty seconds!”
Splat teetered on the edge of the gaping mouth. He raised his dagger to his already injured arm. With a single slash, he created one long, grim, red line in his flesh, then jumped into the pit of hungry, frenzied monsters.
Meredith’s anguished scream only added to the pit of nausea that threatened to overwhelm Noah as types wrenched the armour from the body of one of his closest friends using brute force, like a starving man desperate to get at the flesh of a crab.
A small, faraway part of his brain told him,fifty seconds.
Splat’s blood now attracted every nearby type into the interior of the spacious warehouse. Hissing, grunting and snarling sounds rose from below them as the hungry beasts fought each other for a taste of his flesh. Zeke gripped his arm, swaying—woozy from seeing Splat’s blood?—as he pulled him towards everyone else, who were already at the edge of the roof. Luo wrapped his arm around Meredith, dragging her to the precipice.
“We have to jump to that branch,” Luo said, and Noah nodded. A jump at this height onto the concrete was risky, even in their suits.
Noah urged them all forward, moving to the very back of the queue. There were no types on the roof now—the angry sounds of the beasts told him they were preoccupied below.
He watched each one of his squad scramble to grip onto the rough bark before making the fifteen feet drop to the ground. Once he’d reached the floor, they hurried off, pushing and pulling each other away as fast as they could. Noah’s eyes scanned for further clusters, but found none.
“Ten seconds.” Meredith stole Splat’s line in a choked, out-of-breath whisper. The six of them sprinted through the foliage like their lives depended on it.
