His calmness in this chaos strikes me anew.While I hold a weapon, ready to take lives, he fights to save one, his hands steady despite the danger surrounding us.The contrast should feel jarring, but somehow it doesn’t.
“Clear,” my father reports, returning from the adjacent room.His voice is tight, controlled.“But they can’t be far.Blood trail leads to the east stairwell.”
Xavier reaches for a packaged needle on the cart, tearing it open with his teeth since his other hand is occupied keeping pressure on the wound.“Kelly, help me roll her slightly.I need access to the second intercostal space.”
The assisting nurse moves to help, her hands shaking but determined.I reposition myself to shield them both, my back to Xavier as I scan the doorway.The weight of my weapon is reassuring against my palm, the grip worn to the exact shape of my hand.
“Do what you need to do, Doc,” I say over my shoulder.“We’ve got you covered.”
I hear the tear of packaging, the quiet of Xavier’s voice as he explains the procedure to his semiconscious patient.“This is going to release the pressure, help you breathe better.Small pinch now…”
Professional to the end, even with killers stalking the halls.
Another burst of gunfire erupts, followed by shouts.Closer still.My grip tightens on my weapon, index finger moving to rest lightly against the trigger.
“Grey,” I call softly.“They’re circling back.”
He nods, expression grim.“Butcher, take the south exit.I’ll cover the main hallway.”
My father moves into position, the leather of his cut creaking slightly with the movement.He gives me a quick nod, silent communication honed over decades.I won’t leave Xavier’s side, not while those bastards are still in the building.
“Almost done,” Xavier says behind me.“The needle’s in.Air’s releasing.”
I risk a glance back.The wounded nurse’s color is improving slightly, her breathing less labored.Xavier’s scrubs are soaked with her blood, his face spattered with crimson droplets, but his hands remain rock steady as he secures the chest tube.A smear of blood marks his forehead where he must have pushed his hair back at some point.
“We need to move her,” he says, meeting my eyes.The intensity in his gaze hits me like a physical force.“She needs surgery, blood products.I’ve bought her time, but not much.”
Before I can respond, the door at the far end of the hallway slams open.A man in a Reaper’s cut appears, weapon raised.I catch the flash of metal, the wild look in his eyes, the red trim on his cut marking him as one of the shooters.
“Down!”I shout, turning and tackling Xavier to the floor as gunfire erupts.
The impact knocks the breath from both of us.I feel Xavier’s body beneath mine, the solid warmth of him, the rapid rise and fall of his chest.Bullets punch into the wall where he’d been standing seconds before, sending fragments of drywall showering down on us.I roll slightly, keeping my body over his while bringing my weapon up to return fire.
The Reaper ducks back around the corner, my shots splintering the doorframe where his head had been.
“Stay down,” I order, rolling off Xavier and into a crouch.My knee throbs where it hit the floor, but I ignore it.“Both of you, behind that lead barrier.Now!”
Xavier and the nurse scramble for cover, dragging the wounded woman with them.The radiology room’s lead-lined walls offer some protection.Designed to contain radiation, they now shield from a different kind of danger.
Footsteps pound down the hallway, multiple sets approaching from different directions.Voices call out in harsh, urgent tones.I catch snippets of conversation, enough to know they’re coordinating, trying to trap us.
“Slaughter!”My father’s voice reaches me from the south corridor.“Three coming your way!”
I position myself at the doorway, weapon at the ready.Xavier has managed to get both nurses behind the massive X-ray machine, its bulk providing additional protection.His eyes meet mine across the room, steady, determined, trusting me to keep them safe.
The first Reaper appears at the end of the hallway, moving fast but carelessly.I don’t hesitate.Time slows as I exhale, aim, then squeeze.My first shot catches him in the shoulder, spinning him around.The second finds his knee, dropping him to the floor with a howl of pain that echoes off the walls.
“Zach!”Xavier shouts in warning.
I spin just as another Reaper crashes through the side entrance.He raises his weapon, a 9mm with an extended magazine, but I’m faster, years of training taking over.Two shots.The impact lifts him slightly off his feet before he crumples without firing, his weapon clattering to the floor.
The third appears behind him, using his fallen brother as cover.He manages to get off a shot that shatters equipment inches from my head, the sound deafening in the enclosed space.Glass and plastic fragments spray across my cheek, stinging like tiny knives.I drop lower, adjust my aim, and fire twice more.The first shot misses, the second finds its mark.He falls forward, weapon sliding from lifeless fingers.
In the sudden silence, I hear only my own breathing and the quiet whimpers of the wounded nurse.The acrid smell of gunpowder hangs heavily in the air, mixing with the copper scent of blood.My ears ring slightly from the close-quarters gunfire.
I move carefully to check the downed Reapers.Two dead, one incapacitated and no longer a threat.The wounded one glares up at me, recognition dawning in his eyes as he sees my cut.
“You’re dead,” he spits, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth.“All of you.The whole fucking club.”
