“I hate you!” Pandora screams as we drag her out. “Stop it!”
George and Sven are a few steps ahead of us.
The door to the murder theatre closes.
And then the world explodes.
31
PANDORA
My ears are ringing.
It’s the only sound I hear at first, the world strangely muted except for that strange, high pitched whine.
That’s not my usual auditory hallucination.
The next thing I notice is how hard it is to breathe. There’s something on my chest, something warm and heavy.
I push against it: it’s soft, somewhat pliable.
When I look down, I see buzzed blond hair. It takes me a second to place it.
George Bouchard’s bodyguard.
He inadvertently shielded me from the blast. He’d been behind us, right? Or was he in front? I don’t remember.
I grunt and try to push him away, but it doesn’t work. He’s too heavy.
Why the fuck can’t I move?
“Ares? Kratos?” I say, hoping one of them can hear me through the mic.
But there’s no response. The explosion must have taken out the whole Wi-Fi setup.
I hope they got out. I hope they got Mel out.
Papa’s going to be so fucking mad at me.
Blaze and River have to be around here somewhere.
I turn my head. It’s dark in here.
It’s really dark, actually, and everything smells of blood. Like somebody got disemboweled.
Not me, I hope.
I lift my hand. I’m still wearing the gloves I’d been using, but they’ve been shredded in places. Blood everywhere, and I don’t know if it's Allers’ blood or mine.
I blink, wetness hitting my cheeks.
Was it enough? Did I make him suffer ten times as much as Rachel suffered?
“Pandora?”
I turn my head in the direction of the sound. There’s a beam of some sort in the way, but through the cracks, I see a small light. Somebody’s cellphone.
“River?” I respond.
