That thought spiked some anger into my terror.
Not happening.
I’d die first.
The fire-thing hesitated, maybe confused - or amused - by my fighting stance.
My breathing and pulse picked up again. Like I was ready to fight. “Screw you!” I yelled at the creature.
I’m insane.
I’m going to die right here.
But I had to try.
And I had to protect the patients if I could.
It squared off with me and bellowed.
The sound rattled through my insides, ripping my courage to shreds. Somehow I kept my arms bent, fists raised, mind madly reeling through possible weaknesses I could exploit.
If I hit the fucking thing, I’ll combust.
Silvery light flashed, and John Doe was suddenly standing between me and the creature.
Oh, thank God. Not dead. Barefoot and wearing only jeans — but he had a sword now. And wings.
Wings?
The feathers were singed. His shoulders were singed. His green eyes were wide, filled with fury, and he bared his teeth at the fire-thing. I wished I could build a wall around him, around us, to keep us safe from the flames, but John Doe never slowed as he swung his giant sword. The massive golden grip flashed, and the long, double-sharp blade whistled as it tore through the air.
The fire-thing lurched and banged against the firmly secured back door, barely keeping its big ugly head. Its black eyes literally spit sparks as it snarled. Fire blasted towards us, all around us, but something repelled it, as if we were standing inside a giant fireproof bubble.
Or behind a wall . . .
I gasped once, twice, finally getting enough air to still the spinning in my brain. My energy felt even more drained, like half my blood had just dumped onto the soot-streaked hospital floor.
“Run,” John Doe told me again, but I felt melded to my spot against the wall, and to him.
“Can’t,” I said, and took a limping step backwards to prove it. The pain in my knee told me I’d never make it, and I absolutely couldn’t leave him here to face this creature alone. I might not be much help, but even injured, I could fight.
John Doe swore and took another swing at the fire-monster. It jumped sideways, giving ground. Fire shot from its massive clawed hands, again streaming around us - but the air shimmered, seemed to bow inwards.
I felt so weak I could have collapsed, would have if I hadn’t had my hand pressed against the wall.
A jet of flame broke through whatever had been protecting us and blasted into John Doe’s bare chest.
“Damn it!” I shouted as he fell backwards and hit the tiles hard, feathery wings splaying outwards. The sword skittered out of his hand, spinning in my direction.
I jumped towards it.
Pain flared through my injured leg, and I crashed to the tiles as a blast of fire singed more of my long hair. No stopping. Couldn’t stop. If I stopped, I’d be dead. John Doe would be dead - if he wasn’t already.
Teeth clenched, I crawled forwards and snatched up the sword with both hands.
Fire-thing gave me another blast, but I rolled away from it and staggered to my feet - well, foot - lugging the sword, tip down. It would blast me. I’d be burned to ashes, just a lump of teeth for the Medical Examiner to identify.
“Come on!” I screamed at the thing, hoisting the sword. “What are you waiting for?”