Christian cast his gaze across his three comrades. “Keep fighting. Keep moving. Don’t give up. I’ll see you all afterward.”
He gave Gemma’s arm a soft squeeze then heaved open the door.
The scene was even worse than Gemma imagined. Here, sunlight blared through the glass walls of the foyer below, its rays broken by thick smoke. The air was ripe with the smells of blood, gunpowder, and burning metal. What had once been a shiny, white floor was now painted crimson and littered with the bodies of Dissent and Zion soldiers alike. Some writhed in pain; others didn’t move at all.
It was horror personified.
A shudder swept through Gemma as she faced the onslaught of warriors on the balcony. Her teammates jumped right into action, but she couldn’t move.
This was nothing like the tests they’d undergone in their simulator. The hatred in the faces of enemies as they shot and stabbed each other made Gemma’s blood run cold, and the eyes of the dead seemed to stare at her, asking why she’d let this happen.
I should’ve stopped it. I should’ve saved them.
Gemma backed against a wall, her pistol falling from her hands.
Christian glanced over his shoulder then backpedaled to where she stood, never taking his eyes off the battle. “You can do this,” he shouted over the noise of war. “You’re braver than you know, Proctor.” A shotfrom his rifle found its mark, protecting them from a Dissent member who’d headed their way.
Gemma took a deep breath, picked up her pistol with a trembling hand, shoved it in its holster, and touched Christian’s back. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Step by step, they picked their way through the enemy as they traversed across the balcony that overlooked the lobby—the same balcony from where Rami had welcomed them. It was where the door to the first floor had opened, and it was from here they would descend to the main level, where the majority of the battle took place.
They weaved between corpses, heading for the staircase, and Gemma kept her eyes on Christian’s back to keep from freezing again. He twisted right and left, his shots never missing their targets.
They reached the stairs, and Gemma’s legs quaked. Corpses splayed across almost every step, making descent nearly impossible. And up this high, they were easy targets for those on the ground.Stars, help us.
Rapidpops sounded from Christian’s gun before he led them down their first step. “Stay close!”
Twice more, he volleyed a series of shots—then yelped as blood sputtered from his right thigh.
Gemma’s heart skipped a beat before frustration burned deep within her, shoving aside her trepidation and fear. She didn’t care if the alien inside killed her—Christian was not getting hit again.
Nostrils flaring, she stepped around him and flung her hands out in front of her. Pulling on the memory from the desert, she pictured the shield, and it exploded from her palms.
The familiar, purplish sheen surrounded them like a bubble. Christian shouted for her to stop, to not let that side of her have control, but she refused to listen. His life mattered far more than hers.
Realizing she wasn’t giving up her chance to protect him, Christian nudged her forward, limping down the stairs and replacing his magazine. As they neared the bottom, he started firing his rifle again, and then they were on even ground with their enemy, no longer an easy target.
Gemma tucked them behind a barrier and whipped off her backsack, her shield falling away with the lowering of her hands. “Let me see your leg.”
“It’s fine,” Christian complained, but Gemma moved her hand across his thigh until he yelped. At least it wasn’t near an artery.
She tried to peer closer at the wound, but Christian grabbed the shoulder of her vest and hoisted her up. “There are people in worse shape who need you.”
Gemma ground her teeth, heaving a heavy sigh, but grabbed her backsack and stepped into the fray.
To their left were many fallen Zion soldiers. Gemma hurried to their sides, triaging and helping the wounded as Christian stood guard over her, his movements quick and his aim perfect. Her courage increased despite the headache that had begun to form.
Thisis what she was meant to do.Thisis who her mother had raised her to be.
Not a person bent on vengeance, but one driven to save.
She tended to at least ten of Zion’s military as the minutes passed, her soul warming with every smile and tear of thanks—
Christian cried out in pain.
Gemma snapped her head in his direction. Her heart stopped as he stumbled backward, his hand pressed right above his hip bone.
Another shot hit him in the chest, knocking him to the ground—a fatal blow if it hadn’t been for his vest.
