The Girl Who Broke Free (Death Fields 5)

I feel the adrenaline, spiky and strong, coursing through my veins. I flex my fingers and toes and although it seems crazy, my arms feel leaner, stronger. I shake my head. “I think I’ve got it.”

He grabs my arm. “I’m sorry for everything. I never should have left that day. I should have trusted you—trusted the team.”

Emotion flares in my body. A mixture of anger, love, and sadness. I have no doubt the injection is working because the feeling is so intense. I pick one to focus on and touch Cole’s cheek. “It’s not too late. We know better than anyone Chloe has to be stopped. I think we can do it together.”

Another shell drops and the rapid fire of an automatic weapon ruptures the sky above us. The battle is already in full swing and I don’t wait for Cole to respond. I bend my knees and leap for the lip of the hole. I have zero fear I’ll miss or stumble and I don’t, quickly climbing out and immediately tense for action.

I’m ready but not.

No. Not for this.

The landscape around us is on fire. Two approaching armies from each side. The bridge, right in the middle. Hybrids, Mutts and Eaters rumble across the highway below. It’s a surreal sight, like something out of a horror flick. Everyone here is genetically enhanced. Movements are faster, almost blurred with speed. Howls clashing with grunts merge with the cries of death. I tighten my hand around the handle of my hatchet and process the scene, faster and more calculated than ever before.

Paul disappeared before I surfaced but I see the band of skull-faced Mutts skirmishing below. I’m sure he’s already joined in the fight. He’s never been one to hang back for strategy. I look around. Cole is gone too.

Freaking Mutts.

Vehicles roll in the masses firing guns and larger, explosive devices. The sides seem evenly matched. Two tanks face off as they bear down the middle of the road. Doing anything but running is suicide.

“If we run she’ll keep coming.” Jude anticipates my thoughts. His eyes are a deep, disturbing black. From the weird look he’s giving me, mine must look the same.

“Erwin said we were a distraction…well, let’s fulfill his prophecy.”

I scan the area, looking for the best tool to get their attention. We’re all out of fire and rockets. I do spot a row of rocks and grab one—it’s more like a boulder—and hoist it over the side. They’re large pieces of granite used to shore up the foundation of the bridge and with enhanced strength, easy to dislodge.

The others follow my move, dropping stone after stone over the edge. They crash onto the first unsuspecting Hybrids below, smash

ing skulls. But it gets their attention and soon, the soldiers rush up the hills and it’s time to fight.

There’s little time to react, the first Hybrids reach the bridge in seconds. I flex my fingers and jump into the fight.

At first it’s like a rugby scrum, everyone fighting for the same space. But the changes in my body cause an escalation I couldn’t have predicted. My punches are deadly. One Hybrid’s head snaps back, broken from the impact of my fist to his forehead. Another’s arm dislocates when I toss him over my shoulder. The earth quakes when he hits the ground. I stare at my hands for one brief moment of awe.

This. Is. Awesome.

My glee is short-lived as a hybrid kicks my feet out from under me, forcing me on my back. I’m not stronger than they are but I am equal. I roll to the right and then the left, but feet, bodies, and limbs surround me. I take the nearest arm, severed from its body, and use it like a bat against the evil-eyed bastard trying to take my life.

This manages to surprise him, and I stick my knife in his gut. He falls but I’m crushed by too many people to get out of the way. I poise my feet above me, prepared to kick him out of the way, but his body stops mid-air, clutched by two hands at the shoulders. Blood spills onto my chest from his wound, his jaw gapes wide. I take the opportunity to get on my feet. The dead Hybrid is tossed to the side and I come face to face with a man. A hazel-eyed ninja covered in blood and bruises.

“You’re here,” I say, which is not what I want to say.

“I’m here.” He touches my chin and holds my eye. I don’t think it’s what he wants to say either. Then his eyes flick over my shoulder. “Duck.”

I feel the movement behind me and follow directions. He fires his gun over my head, three times. Bodies fall and we fall into the fight, back to back, slaying Hybrids as they rush us with an unrelenting pace.

Down the bridge I spot Jude, then Jane in the same predicament. There’s no time to breathe. No second to adjust. Punch, kick, stab. Over and over until my hands are coated in blood. Sweat drips into my eyes and I fight through the stinging blur.

I lost track of Finn and Mary Ellen. My ears ring from the roar of fighting, the howls of the Eaters. It’s like the whole world has come to an end at this tiny, little bridge in eastern Kentucky.

Wyatt clutches the neck of a Hybrid and twists, snapping his neck in two. He spares me a glace, a weary, worn-out, human glance before diving back in.

Another explosion rips through the air, screaming overhead. It lands too close to the bridge, creating a ripple of vibration across the concrete. I’m flung forward, away from my defensive position at Wyatt’s back. Bone-chilling howls pierce the air as Eaters are crushed, steamrolled by the massive tanks. I assume Chloe is hiding inside one. Erwin in the other. Neither like to do much fighting. They prefer the dramatics of their minions doing it for them.

The Mutts fire another rocket and this one streaks over the bridge in a fiery arc. I look away from the Hybrid I’ve just cut down and watch it stream overhead. It lands feet from the tank. I push aside the scrambling Hybrids to look over the side. The vehicle has come to a stop and the fighting is pushed in a circle outward. I spot a blip on the road, a figure not involved in the brawls but headed toward something—the tank.

My brain clicks, calculating speed, height, frame. I know who it is and where they are going. My body moves before my mind and I climb onto the barrier overlooking the highway. A quick glance over my shoulder brings me face-to-face with Wyatt.

It’s a frivolous moment in the middle of immense danger. An Eater charges at us and Wyatt cold-cocks him in the face, then flips him over the side of the railing. I zero in on his face. The sweat dripping down his neck, the blood smear over his eye. Even in the hyped-up, sensory-overloaded moment I swear I can hear his heartbeat raging beneath his chest.