She was wheezing, bloody foam dripping from her mouth. She still looked expressionless with her black goggles, but Blake could see the fine tremors in her muscles when she finally gave in. Her legs locked, and she wobbled for a second before crashing to the roof in a plume of dust.
Above her, the tendrils were twanging against each other. As they darkened, they ripped from her body, twisting and whipping through the air with a hiss, raining dark fluid on Queen Dolly’s body.
Clutching his bleeding arm, Blake forced himself to turn away. He saw Phin’s gun caught up on some pipes. He prized it free and ran to the other side of the door.
Phin had his foot on the Monkey Cat’s head, ripping a Kabar knife from the Monkey Cat’s cracked goggle. It came free with a splash of eyeball goo and blood.
Blake grimaced. “I…I brought your gun.”
He wiped the blade off on his filthy pants. “Would have been nice five minutes ago.”
His boots squelched with blood and viscera as Phin stepped off the Monkey Cat. His clothes were hanging in tatters. Even his plate carrier was dented, the nylon covering shredded, and the metal beneath shining dully in the sun. His dark skin was awash with blood—it was hard to tell which was his and which was Monkey Cats.
“Well, you know,” Blake said, handing the gun to Phin. His arms trembled under the weight, but Phin hefted the gun with ease. “I was busy.”
Phin grunted. His nose was clearly broken, and Blake wondered if he could lift his arm to fix it. Or if Phin would even let him.
He appraised Blake, eyes lingering on his arm. It was still sluggishly bleeding. “You need a medic.”
“Yeah,” he looked over at his arm. “Know any good ones?”
Phin’s lips quirked. “No.”
“Dick.”
He was about to ask Phin about any other injuries when an ear-splitting crack tore through the air. Blake grimaced, looking back at Queen Dolly. She was still lying on her side.
Phin scanned the roof with his gun. Blake couldn’t see anything wrong. Was it the Ground Team? He knew they were setting off bombs, but that sounded like thunder. He could feel it in his teeth.
Something caught his eye. “There! The filaments!”
The blackened filaments were falling. They’d pulled away from the Queen, and now they were collapsing under their weight like an empty hose. The first half dropped through the junk wall, cutting through it like a hot knife through butter. The entire building shook as the wall began collapsing in on itself, falling onto the roof and the street.
“Fucking cowboy! He said there werenotentacles!” Phin shouted, grabbing Blake and running for the opposite side of the roof. They huddled under the chassis of a burnt-out Volvo as the filament kept dropping.
It had felt flexible in Blake’s hands, but the weight combined with the long drop built up velocity. They cut through everything in their way, crushing buildings as they fell from the sky. Blake’s feet rattled out from under him, and he collapsed onto his ass, throwing his arms up around his head to protect it from flying debris and dust.
Peeking out from under his arm, he watched as the filament stretched across the street and crashed into a building. The four-story structure teetered for a moment, then toppled…right into the street, and into the oncoming team’s path.
He was running before he knew what was happening. The building rocked under his feet, nearly sending him to the ground. Phin yelled after him, but the words were lost to the cacophony around him.
Blake made it to the fallen portion of the wall to look down at the street. It was covered in rubble, their pile of ‘safety’ tires obliterated. The crushed building had fallen, completely blocking the Ground Teams’ escape.
They were going to be trapped.
With every alien in the city on their tail.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Gabriel choked on dust. It was so thick it coated his teeth and tongue. Every breath felt like he was swallowing shards of glass. He tried to open his eyes, but he couldn’t keep them open—it hurt too much.
Blindly, he pushed himself to his hands and knees. His ribs throbbed, and he felt the sharp sting of a fresh wound on the back of his shoulder. Hot blood seeped through his shirt. Trying to breathe through closed lips, he swiped his forearm against his eyes, trying to clear them. Blinking, he lifted his head to see some of the debris cloud had dissipated.
He was lying against the building he’d been using as cover, waiting for the Ground Team. Brick prickled against his fingertips, and he used the wall to help him get to his feet. Leaning against it, he secured his weapon. He wasn’t sure he could even see a target, but he felt better with it in his hand.
What the fuck just happened?
