Ever froze, trying to see who was behind him. The man made it easy, taking a step to his side so he could place the barrel of his gun directly against Ever’s temple. He wore a dirty black t-shirt and baggy ripped jeans. He had three teardrops beneath his left eye. He smelled sour.
“I’m guessing you’re with them?” he asked.
Ever couldn’t speak. He vaguely noted the bolt cutters in his hand falling to the ground and the racket they made when they bounced off the metal side to land at his feet.
“Yeah,” Ever said, his mouth a desert.
“Good, then you can come with me and maybe I’ll make it out of this alive.” He gave a gruff laugh. “Probably can’t say the same for you.”
Ever couldn’t move. He wanted to, but he was frozen in place, aware of nothing but the barrel of the gun cold against his sweaty temple. Arsen was going to be so mad at him.
“I—”
“Ever!”
Arsen. The man swung his gun in Arsen’s direction, clearly intent on firing. Ever cried out, then grabbed for the man’s arm. But it was too late. His head just…exploded. Not really, but that was what it felt like. Bits of blood and bone hit Ever’s face as the man beside him dropped. He stood there, trembling so hard his teeth were clacking together.
“Ever? Ever? Can you hear me?”
Ever could hear him, but it was hard over the ringing in his ears. “There’s a baby in there,” he whispered.
“What?” Arsen said, gripping his shoulders and turning him around. “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you? This isn’t your blood, is it?”
“There’s a baby in there,” he said again, this time more frantically, trying to shake Arsen off him to grab the bolt cutters. When Arsen fought him, he made a growling sound, wrenching himself from his grasp.
He tried to pick them up, but his hands wouldn’t cooperate. It was like his brain was giving the wrong signals. He gave up on the bolt cutters and just started clawing and pulling at the lock until Arsen was physically dragging him away.
He fought with everything he had, but he was no match for Arsen. But Arsen wasn’t alone. Jericho was there. And Seven. Jericho grabbed the bolt cutters, cutting through the lock in one clean motion.
They moved out of the way, swinging the doors wide but staying behind them in case there was another threat within. When nothing happened, Arsen peeked around the door, gun raised. He dropped it almost immediately.
Ever ducked under his arm, stopping short. There weren’t just two women but four, all filthy and in various states of undress. They were young, some maybe even younger than Ever. One was breastfeeding a baby that looked to be no more than a few months old. The one he’d heard crying.
Jericho held up his hands, holstering his weapon, as they all cowered against the back, shielding the children behind them. Once more, Ever tried not to cry. They were protecting them even if it killed them. Seven was still scanning the perimeter, gun at the ready.
“You can come out now,” Arsen said.
“They don’t speak English,” Ever said.
“I do.”
A tiny little body wiggled between the women’s legs, dodging them as they tried to grab him. He was small. Like a toddler. He had brown hair and brown eyes and a dirty face. He seemed surprisingly chipper given the circumstances.
“You do?” Jericho asked. “Is one of those ladies your mommy?”
He shook his head. “No mommy. Brother.” He pointed to a small, filthy boy cowering in the back, eerily quiet. We stay with Ms. Tracy, but she gave us to bad men for the med-cine.”
Jericho flinched, but then hid it behind a smile. “Oh. Well, you don’t have to go back to Ms. Tracy,” Jericho assured him, gathering him into his arms. “How old are you?”
The little boy held up three fingers.
“You’re three? You talk like a grown up,” Jericho gushed.
The women moved forward, one of them picking up the boy at the back. As Arsen helped each of them out of the container, they looked around, blinking like they were standing in the noonday sun and not the early morning. How long had they been in there?
The woman handed the frail boy to Arsen and said something none of them understood. Jericho attempted to speak to her in Cantonese, but she frowned at him in confusion.
“Shit,” Jericho muttered.
