The Black Tide (Outcast 3)

I trudged on, keeping my eyes on the ground but acutely aware of the rising rumble behind me. If that noise was anything to go by, they were no longer just coming directly along the road but had spread out, possibly to cut off any prospect of a double back.

I unclipped one of the guns and held it by my side. I doubted it would have the power to cause much damage to any of the vehicles I’d seen on the cliff top, but short of running me down, they couldn't actually harm me, as none of them had been armed.

A small oversight I was fervently grateful for.

Then the engine noise stopped. I paused, listening. There was no indication that anyone was coming after me—no bouncing rocks or crunch of leaf matter to indicate we were being chased on foot.

And yet they were coming.

Fast.

Shifters, an inner part of me whispered. I closed my eyes and hoped it wasn't true. Or that the shifters belonged to one of the groups who still lived in these mountains rather than from those who pursued us.

But it wasn’t like I dared hang around and uncover the answer.

I called to the shadows, let them wrap around me, then raced on upwards, taking the most direct route rather than following the tangled, meandering road.

Just as I hit the ridge, I felt the unraveling begin. I quickly called to flesh and fell, twisting as I did so that it was my back that took the force of it rather than Raela. Déchet were made with very strong bones but we were not unbreakable. And break I did—the snap was loud, and seemed to echo across the night.

But for several rather terrifying seconds, there was no pain—absolutely nothing—and the fear that I’d broken my back surged. I moved my neck, my arms, my right leg... but the moment I tried to move my left, the pain hit, and so fiercely I had to bite my lip against a scream.

I wrapped a hand around Raela to ensure I didn't squash her, and somehow found the strength to push upright. And discovered that I'd broken both my tibia and fibula—a nasty break at the best of times, and certainly not one I could recover from in a matter of minutes.

Which was all I had left.

I tried to ignore the throbbing, heated agony that threatened to consume me, and looked around. I'd been fairly lucky when I'd fallen—three feet in either direction and I would have landed on top of a range of wickedly pointed rocks. Those same rocks formed a semicircle-shaped cave behind me, and were probably my best—and really, only—place to make some sort of stand. If I could reach them, that was.

I unclipped my knife, cut a small section from a nearby tree root, and shoved it into my mouth. I needed something to bite down on—something that would smother the screams, if only a little.

And scream I did. Moving was agony itself. My body went hot, and then cold, and sweat slicked every bit of skin and made gripping the rocks and pulling myself backward even harder. The blackness of unconsciousness loomed large and it was tempting—so very tempting—to give in to the serenity it offered. But the minute I did, any hope of freedom—of a future for Raela—was gone.

Somehow, I reached that cave. But I was a quivering, sweating, stinking mess, with little strength to do anything more than lean back and close my eyes.

They were near.

I couldn't hear them, but I could feel them.

And I could do nothing. Nothing more than grip my weapons and hope I had both the strength and time to use them.

They were not going to take me alive.

They were not going to take Raela back to her prison.

If nothing else, I would ensure that.

I waited.

Closer and closer they came, a wave of determination and anger that burned my skin and made breathing even more difficult.

Sound scraped across the night—a rock, bouncing lightly across the ground only ten feet away from the entrance of my small cave.

I opened my eyes and raised the guns.

For several heartbeats, nothing happened. They were out there—I could smell them now. There was six of them, and they tainted the air with the thick need to kill.

But they didn’t. Not immediately. Maybe they were waiting for someone, or maybe they were simply being cautious. After all, they had no idea what weapons I might yet have with me.

A tremor ran through my arms, but I locked them in place and kept my fingers pressed against the triggers.