Lark bared her teeth, taking the second’s reprieve to level her crossbow. The wiry wildling doubled over as steel penetrated his flesh, blood jetting from the wound. She pushed him aside, heard him crumple to the floor as she bashed the stunned wildling with the butt of her weapon. The primitive woman toppled over beside the one she’d shot. Harlan pushed the last one through the open elevator door, braced a foot on his hip, and yanked the knife from his gut. Filed fangs flashed in a grimace as he fell backward.
Smoke clogged the passage, and, for an instant, Lark feared they’d be cut down by friendly fire.
The pop of a handgun to their left. Harlan motioned with his chin, handing Lark’s knife back to her. Gripping his rifle in both hands, he led the way. “Two hawks coming through,” he called out, ensuring they weren’t killed by mistake.
Smoke curled, rocks clattered off metal, and Skye and Wes crouched behind a gurney turned on its side, being pelted with rocks. One struck Lark in the shoulder—hard. “Damn, that hurt!” She dropped to her hands and knees, crawling beside the others. Harlan fired a shot through the smoke cloud, then slid down the wall behind the barricade.
“Where’s Luke and Diego?” he asked.
“Other side,” answered Skye. “This is pure chaos. Can’t see a rustin’ thing!”
“Diego went a little overboard,” Wes groaned. Gripping his odd handgun, he popped above the gurney for an instant, squeezed his trigger, and a burst of light flew down the hall. She would ask later.
The sound of stampeding feet rumbled toward them. Lark sprang up, fired straight ahead. A growl of pain and a solid body flew over their makeshift barrier. Despite Skye and Wes’s attempts to brace it, the gurney toppled over. In a blink, they were in hand-to-hand combat.
A spear jabbed toward Skye. Lark clutched her wrist, yanked her away. A hand crushed Lark’s throat, slamming her into the wall. Her attacker’s muscular body pressed to hers.No room to kick. Can’t breathe.His hot, stale breath puffed in her face. Blood draining. She wiggled her hands up between them, above hisshoulders, and pressed her thumbs into his eyes—human eyes, not so different from Tommy’s.No.Can’t think. Can’t hesitate.Lark increased the pressure. His grip loosened.
A crackling noise. Her attacker fell limp. Wes had taken him down with another odd weapon. It shot sparks until the wildling lay quivering on the floor.
“Watch out!” Lark yelled.
Wes ducked and spun. Crossbow back in her fingers, Lark impaled a woman wielding a fiery torch. It toppled onto the padded gurney, which burst into flames.
Lark’s eyes flew wide when she spotted an oxygen tankrolling down the hallway toward it. Enemies still on their feet fled in the opposite direction.
“Run!” Skye shouted, beating Lark to giving the same command. The four of them raced away just as an explosion sounded.
Rust is all,Lark cursed to herself.That better not destroy what we came to get.She remembered the drug cabinet on the third floor. The fire wouldn’t ruin everything—if they could put it out in time.
Lark skidded to stop, taking a step back. “An extinguisher!” She smashed the glass with the butt of her crossbow, pulled it out, and pushed it at Luke. He slung his shotgun over his shoulder and took it.
“Scout ahead. I’ll put this out,” he directed. This time, Diego accompanied Lark, his heavy gun at the ready.
“Ammo’s running low,” Diego admitted, voice thick with worry.
“There can’t be many of them left.” Lark stopped at a corner, held up a hand, intuition nagging her like a harpy. She crouched, picked up a random bedpan lying on the floor, and tossed it around the corner. Battle cries and smashing sounds boomed from the next hallway. Diego readied his machine gun, burst around the corner, and opened fire. Dust fell from the ceiling. A soft shuffle. Lark glanced up in time to see the wildling leader plunge through a hole above to land on Diego’s back. His gun sprayed wildly before he could release the trigger. Lark ducked, rolled. The muscular, bearded man in the wolf cloak, sharpened teeth bared, bone talisman rattling, raised a knife, a sliver of sunlight flashing off its blade.
“Hey, you creak-ridden son of a glitch!” she yelled, catching his attention for an instant. “Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you, worm food. I saw how you treat your women, and I don’t like it. Not one bit.”
Her tirade gave Diego a second to spin, throw off his attacker. But the wildling’s blade bit, slicing a gash in his deltoid.Better than his throat,Lark breathed.
The two men grappled in combat. Kicking, gouging, punching. The wildling cur bit Diego, sinking his jagged teeth into her comrade’s forearm. The image of Tommy’s bite flashed across her mind, stirring rage in Lark. Diego reached for the hatchet on his belt, his fingers just missing. The two scuffled tightly together, twisting this way and that. Lark couldn’t get a sure aim, afraid she’d hit Diego.
“Oh, rust it all!” she swore, and jerked the knife from its holder. She rushed into the fray, aiming for the wolf hide. The leader yowled when her blade sank deep. When he spun toward her, snarling, blood dripping from his lips, she sprang clear. She watched his vicious visage go blank and pale as Diego slammed his hatchet into their enemy’s neck. A fountain of blood sprayed the wall, and the big wildling sank to his knees before falling forward, forehead smacking the littered floor.
Frantic shouts rang out from the others. They snatched up children and ran, vacating the property. Luke and the rest of the team arrived in time to see Lark and Diego yanking their blades from the leader’s corpse.
“Fire’s out,” Wes supplied. “Guess you don’t need our help.”
“They fled once they realized their warlord was dead,” Diego said. He winced, glancing down at his ripped sleeve and bleeding arm.
“Here,” Skye offered, waving toward a dusty exam room. “Let me fix that up for you. We are in a hospital after all.”
Diego laughed and shook his head, taking a step toward her. Then he glanced back at Lark. “We make a good team, kid. You’re all right.”
His appreciative smile struck pride in Lark’s heart. For an instant, she felt like a victor, a hero, a warrior. Then, the night of the raid on Saltmarsh Reach crashed back into her mind, dousing the feeling, leaving her resolute.
“Is the medicine here?” she asked. “I saw some on the third floor.”
