It was all happening so fast but not in Arsen’s head. Whenever he was in these situations, it was like time slowed down to give him an advantage, even though he knew it was simply the body’s response to stress.
Asa pulled a vicious knife from his belt. It looked like something out of a horror movie. “You want a picture for the boy first or are we good?”
Arsen’s stomach churned. “Do what you have to do, man.”
Asa’s laugh was chilling as he grabbed a man by the hair, taking the knife across his neck in one smooth motion. Arsen watched the man’s skin part before turning away. There was a sick, squelching sound but Arsen couldn’t bring himself to look.
“Fuck!” Lake shouted, sounding pissed. “That fucker shot me.”
“You let them get the jump on you?”
“Seven shot me.”
“You literally jumped in front of my gun, bro. You shot yourself.”
“How bad is it?” Jericho asked.
“It’s bleeding pretty bad. It might have hit an artery.”
“Fuck!” Jericho shouted. “We need you, Freckles.”
Arsen’s eyes went wide. “We can’t leave Ever out there alone.”
“You want him in here? With this?”
Arsen looked at the horror show Asa was creating in the living room. “God, no.”
“He’ll be fine. In about fifteen minutes, you can take him to open that shipping container and be the hero.”
Atticus busted through the door. “Where is he?”
“Back room,” Seven called. “It’s his right thigh.”
Ever could hear nothing but the sound of his own labored breathing. It sounded like he’d run a marathon, even though he was only sitting there, waiting for the others to finish slaughtering people in his name. A tiny giggle escaped him, drawing Atticus’s attention away from his granola bar.
Ever stifled the next laugh threatening to bubble up from some place deep inside him. Why was he laughing? None of this was funny. People were dying. Ever should care about that. He should feel something. Did it make him a bad person that he didn’t?
He was just numb. That perfect, lovely numbness he usually only got from trauma. But this didn’t feel traumatic. It was…exhilarating. His heart was pounding, and his breath sounded like rushing water in his ears.
Maybe this was why people jumped out of airplanes or climbed mountains without ropes. Maybe it wasn’t trauma that caused the numbness but the adrenaline that came from the danger? Even with his earplugs and headphones, as soon as the first shot was fired, his stomach clenched. It sounded muffled, like he was hearing it from underwater, but he heard it nonetheless.
The gunfire sounded like fireworks. The ones he’d seen kids playing with that made a cracking sound when you lit one end. Then they would just…pop, pop, pop. Then silence.
Ever looked at Atticus, who seemed unfazed. Until he didn’t. He spoke, but not to Ever. To someone in the house talking to him from that little button in his ear. The world was a strange place, and Ever didn’t think he’d ever fully understand the technology available, but if it helped keep Arsen safe, he was grateful for it.
Atticus gently removed Ever’s headphones. “Stay here. Don’t move. Lake is hurt. I need to go help.”
He didn’t give Ever any time to process that information, just started to run across the lawn with his backpack in hand. Ever pulled the earplugs free, grateful for the almost eerie silence that followed. Until he realized it wasn’t silent.
At first, he thought it was an animal—this high-pitched sort of keening wail, like it was injured. Ever frowned, moving towards the sound without thought, making sure he stayed behind the cover of the treeline. The closer he got, the louder the sound grew, until it dawned on him that it wasn’t an animal at all, but a baby. A human baby, crying hysterically.
Ever looked back to the house, then at the shipping container where the sound came from. There was a baby in there. An actual baby. There was no more gunfire. It had to be safe to open the doors. What if that baby was alone? No. Cherry had said there were two women and other children in there. He couldn’t leave them in there.
He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, before marching across the lawn to the container, lining up the bolt cutters against the lock and squeezing. Nothing happened. He tried again. And again. But he wasn’t strong enough.
The people inside heard him attempting to open the doors. They were banging on the metal sides, speaking in a language Ever didn’t understand. A knot formed in his throat, tears pricking his eyes as he tried and failed again and again.
“What have we here?”
