We kept moving, going from one landing to the other, the physical efforts beginning to take a toll on all of us. Once we reached the very bottom, there wasn’t any time to stop and process or discuss a next course of action. Our pursuers knew we’d gotten away and exactly where we would’ve come out.
A few feet away from the final set of stairs was Chip. He lay in a puddle of blood with visibly broken limbs and a large portion of his head dented inward. I don’t think any of us stopped to consider where to go, we just kept moving, putting much needed space between us and the complex.
Coming up on an intersection we slowed as another two women dashed across it, attempting to cross the road. Within a moment of me blinking, one was hit by a blacked-out truck. Her body lifted entirely off the ground, going up onto the hood before bouncing off and landing in a motionless heap on the street.
Her companion began to scream hysterically, all the while smart enough to back away from her friends’ body.
“Over here,” Grace breathed harshly, just loud enough for our group to hear.
She positioned herself between a storefront’s two walls and awning, her body obscured from view. We joined her, placing our backs flat against the glass windows. I placed a hand over my mouth to try and quiet down my breathing, thinking if anyone heard me that I’d give away our location.
The girl must have retreated because her screams and the eventual sound of the truck’s engine faded simultaneously.
“What the fuck do we do now?” Mel asked, her voice raspy and dry.
“How do we get to this carnival place with all these freaks prowling the streets?” Dion followed-up with.
I almost pointed out that we too, were freaks, ultimately deciding against it.
Our overall position wasn’t the greatest. Standing beneath an awning that provided dismal cover at best wouldn’t keep us in the okay for long. We couldn’t stand here until the fireworks Ciaran mentioned started. There was also this Helios thing with Grace to figure out. She had yet to mention it and Chip clearly wasn’t going to be of any more help—not that he was much of any to begin with.
Mind racing, I scanned our surroundings. The road was empty and fragile silence reigned once more.
“We shouldn’t hold still,” Mel voiced the obvious.
“Does anyone know how to hotwire a car?” I asked.
A few solid beats passed before Dion answered. “I know which access point to go in at.”
“Um, I’m sorry. Access point?”
“Yeah. Most cars don’t get hot wired like they did back in the day.”
I glanced over at him. “So, yes?”
“…I guess?”
“Good. There’s our temporary solution.”
“Won’t that draw too much attention to us?” Mel questioned.
“It’s better than being completely in the open, and we’ll cover more ground.”
“Let’s just do it,” Grace intervened. “I can’t run all over this city like a track-star.”
When Mel took a good look at her, I think she had the same realization that I’d had—something wasn’t right. It had her changing up her tune and agreeing that a car was a better way for us to travel.
I don’t know why no one ever suggested this back in Goetia. Maybe it was due to the way we had to go from place to place. Those checkpoints had been way closer together than the ones inside Devil’s Playground.
I stepped forward and poked my head out from behind our faulty cover to get a better look at the street and surrounding area. I didn’t see anyone—silence still lingered, but here nothing could ever be taken at face value. We may not have been in open view of anyone happily playing along with whoever was responsible for this, but that didn’t mean an audience wasn’t still tucked safely away watching us partake in round after round of mayhem.
“Okay.” I stepped back and swiped my hair out of my face before turning to face Dion. “Pick one and do your thing. We can keep watch.”
He used the edge of his shirt to wipe excess sweat from his brow and inched forward to peek out like I had.
“Any of them?”
“Preferably one with a quiet engine and that doesn’t have an alarm,” Mel replied.
“Oh, and has a full tank of gas,” Grace quickly added.
“Any specific colors?” he retorted bemusedly.
“I’ve always been a fan of sky-blue,” I joked.
“Cool. That black 150 should do the job then.”
He darted across the street, using the other few vehicles as makeshift shields. We followed him in a triangular-like formation, making sure we had eyes on both ends of the road and the intersection that was now completely empty. Not even the woman’s body remained. Whoever ran her down must have taken it with them.
Unsurprisingly the truck Dion chose was locked. He wasted no time rounding around to remove its antenna and then begin breaking and entering. As he worked at securing our ride the familiar feeling of being watched crept down my spine.