Erik grabs the man’s hair and slams his face down onto someone beneath him. Then his left fist bangs against the chest of the next man in the line.
There’s a popping sound, like a firecracker exploding.
“Gun!” someone shouts.
I don’t know if it’s a warning for them to duck so they can shoot us, but I drop low and pull on the back of Erik’s coat. He doesn’t drop, and the coat pulls from my grip as he stands and grabs the last upright guy within reach.
The guy screams and tries to jerk back just before Erik’s big hands slam his head into the bricks.
A light flashes in our direction, and I can see enough of the man holding it to recognize Shane Moran. He has a gun in his other hand.
For a moment, there’s no sound except the moaning, gasping breaths from the pile and our own panting.
“How’s it look?” Shane asks, so freaking calmly you’d think he was asking about the brickwork.
Erik nods, slamming his fist down several more times. “Pull in closer. I’m gonna climb over.” Dropping his head to look at the pile, he says, “Move and you’re fucking dead.”
As if they’re a mound of dirt, Erik climbs over the top of the writhing bodies.
“Arya, Octavia, come here.” The light shines in, illuminating Erik’s bloody handprints on the brick.
“Go ahead,” Tavi says, giving me a little push.
A pair of hands from the pile reach out in my general direction. I freeze even though I don’t think the guy’s reaching for me; he’s trying to grab the ground to crawl away.
Erik leans forward to push down on the stack. “Keep your fucking hands down, or I will empty the gun’s clip into this pile.” Glancing back, he says, “Watch your six, Shane.”
“I’m good,” Shane says.
Erik holds out his hands. “Come on, Arya. Right now.” His commanding tone sets me in motion.
I’m still holding my boot, but I don’t stop to put it on. I start forward, half climbing onto the human pile that’s shifting and breathing. It’s like a nightmare. A depiction of hell.
Something wet soaks through my bare sock, and my stomach twists.
Without realizing, I start to draw back. Octavia presses against me, and then Erik steps forward so his shoulders are between the walls again. He leans in and grabs me under the arms to lift me like I’m a child. My feet bang and scrape over the men as he steps back.
He lowers me to the cement walkway and turns around. “Here, Tavi. Come to me.”
She doesn’t hesitate. Octavia crawls up just enough for Erik to reach her and then holds out her arms.
Apparently, someone grabs her leg because she shrieks and jerks to free herself.
Erik pulls her forward and lifts her out, backing up. She hugs him as he sets her down and then turns and hugs me.
“Did you call the police?” Erik asks.
“I couldn’t find it. My phone—it’s in here.” She raises her giant tote bag to illustrate the difficulty, and then starts to dig through it.
“No. Just hold it open.” The Viking, who has blood on his face and hands, starts dragging the men out. He rifles through their pockets, collecting wallets and cell phones that he drops into Tavi’s bag.
Shane slides his gun away. “Step aside a second,” Shane says.
Erik moves, and Shane snaps several photos.
“Get the masks, too. Let’s get some faces,” Shane says. “Hey, knife, three o’clock.”
“I know. I felt it during the fight.”
