It’s not death that comes first, but the ginger man. This time, mercifully, he doesn’t slap me. There’s blood on his clothes and blisters on his face and arms, courtesy of me.
But he looks fierce as he says, “Get on.”
He has brought along one of the floating mine carts that we used to clear the rubble in the tunnels. How does he want me to climb on a cart? I’m fucking dying.
He kicks me in the ribs. “Get in!”
I grunt. A few of those ribs might be broken. I hope one pierces my lung, so I can die faster.
I glare at him with all the hate I can muster. “I can’t move… you dipshit…”
He kicks me again, this time on my dislocated left shoulder. White light explodes behind my eyelids from the pain.
I might have lost consciousness because when I come back to myself, the ginger is dropping me on the cart. He’s stronger than he looks; I must be twice his weight. He leaves me on my side, one leg dragging on the ground, as he pushes me out of the room. I spare one last glance at the large pool of blood on the floor. It looks as dark as oil. A normal human would have died already. But I’m not normal. My mutations make it hard for me to die. Sharing genes with a monster of legend is a blessing and a curse.
Another mighty roar echoes in the mountains, followed by an earthquake. The ginger swears and pushes the cart faster down the stairs and through dark corridors. I almost fall off twice. The emergency lights are our only guides.
“Which god dwells in those mountains?” he asks me.
I say nothing because I don’t know. This place was supposed to be secure. No old god was ever seen wandering these parts in more than twenty years.
The tunnels are deadly quiet. Everyone has already evacuated Bunkertown. Not one of my men thought to come and rescue me. So much for loyalty…
We pass a few corpses. All guards. Helios’ devil cleaned the place up before reaching my quarters.
My captor finds his way to my secret exit without my help. He must have learned all the twists and turns. There is a small door that looks like a closet. The lock is already broken. He pushes the floating cart inside, walks over disregarded tools and cleaning supplies, and opens the second hidden door. It leads us to a cavernous room under a waterfall, where a state-of-the-art aircraft is waiting for us.
TheFireflywas an army prototype before the Rise. It’s a slick vessel, painted all black except for the gold lines along the hull. Four aero engines allow it to fly at low altitude. It can’t go high. Its only purpose is to allow fast travel over difficult terrain. It’s supposed to be undetectable by other aircraft. Not that it matters nowadays.
The ginger opens the cockpit’s vertical door. “Give me full control.”
My cheek rests on the side of the cart. I can’t move.
“No…” I say.
If he thinks I’m offering him my aircraft on a platter, he’s sorely mistaken. He’s staying here with me until the underground city caves over our heads.
He pulls out an army knife and angles it under my chin. “Give me control.”
I chuckle faintly, blood on my tongue. “Or what…? You’re going to kill me? Please, do me the favor…”
He stares me down. Most people would be panicking by now. But he’s just… calculating.
He hits me on my dislocated shoulder again with the butt of his knife. I let out a string of insults as pain shoots through my entire body.
He pushes the cart around the cockpit, to the other side, and pulls me over the co-pilot’s seat.
“Okay then, you’re coming along, Sparky,” he says.
For fuck’s sake…He really can’t let me die in peace. And I hate when people call me stupid names. Some have tried to call meOliveinstead of Oliver over the years. They’re all dead now.
As he sits on the pilot’s chair, the interior lights up, and a male voice says, “Identification, please.”
The man turns to me, waiting. I keep my mouth shut.
“You know,” he says after a while, a wicked smile on his beautiful face, “if you don’t start this aircraft, I’ll make sure to keep you alive and let you die slowly. So slowly, you’ll curse the day your men captured me and brought me here.”
I offer him a weak smile of my own. If he thinks I’m that easy to—
