Chapter 280: Chapter 279 - Come With Me
Cena stared at her through the smoke.
Iyisha lifted one trembling hand toward her. "Cena, please. We need to go."
Cena took one step.
Her foot struck the stone hard enough to shake grit loose near Iyisha’s feet. Her torn mouth moved, but no word came out. Blood ran over the tattoo on her clavicle and down her chest. Her eyes stayed on Iyisha, even while bullets hit her back and made her shoulders jerk.
The helicopters came lower. Rotor wind pushed smoke across the yard. Dust skidded over the stone. Morning light hit the broken gate, the wet ground, and the bodies near the entrance. Red emergency lights still flashed along the walls.
"We need to move," Arnulf shouted.
A voice cracked from the first helicopter speaker. "Subject confirmed. Iyisha Clarke is in the open. Recover alive."
Iyisha’s hand dropped.
The voice continued. "Heavy subject confirmed. Cena Clarke active in the yard. Contain if possible. All released biological assets are to be recovered. No one leaves the grounds."
Cena Clarke.
Iyisha stared at her sister. "Malcolm," she said, her voice breaking. "Don’t let them take her."
Malcolm’s arm tightened around her waist. He grabbed the young doctor by the back of the coat and shoved him in front of them. The pistol went under the doctor’s jaw.
"Tell them to hold fire," Malcolm said.
The doctor raised both hands. "They won’t listen."
"Make them stop long enough."
The doctor swallowed against the barrel and shouted toward the soldiers. "Hold fire! The subject is here! You’ll hit the subject!"
Some soldiers slowed. Others kept moving. They spread from the broken gate in a wide line, rifles up, shock poles ready, nets carried between pairs. Trucks idled behind them. One helicopter stayed above the wall while the other lowered with its gun angled toward the yard.
Phillip stood ahead with his son close behind him. He looked past the yard toward the waterfront. "There’s a patrol yacht at the dock."
Arnulf turned. "Where?"
"Past the service road," Phillip said. "Down the stone steps. Long pier. It’s tied near the end."
Aljun looked through the smoke. "That’s too far."
Marybeth held Lance against her side. "Can it run?"
Phillip nodded. "They use it for patrol. It should."
Arnulf looked at him for one quick second. "Good catch. It’s good to see you, man."
Phillip gave a small smile, then pushed his son behind him again when a soldier shifted too close.
They started backing toward the left side of the yard. It should have been a straight walk to the waterfront, but the wounded, the children, and the soldiers made every step slow. No one could run. If one person broke from the line, the soldiers would fire.
Iyisha tried to walk. Her knees dropped with every step. Malcolm kept one arm around her waist and dragged the young doctor with his other hand. Marybeth and Aljun hauled Lance between them. Phillip pushed his son ahead, then turned back to aim when soldiers moved too close. Cedric staggered with one burned hand pressed against his chest. The survivors followed barefoot, limping, crying, and holding on to each other.
"Cena!" Iyisha shouted.
Cena followed.
Three steps.
Then five.
Iyisha saw her moving after them and nearly sobbed. "She’s coming."
Malcolm kept his eyes on the soldiers. "Keep walking."
A soldier shouted from the gate. "Separate them!"
Malcolm shoved the young doctor forward. "Talk."
The doctor screamed toward the soldiers. "Hold fire! The subject is exposed! You’ll hit the subject!"
The soldiers slowed again.
Cena stopped whenever Iyisha stopped. She stood behind them with a bent sheet of metal in one hand. Her shoulders rose and fell. Wounds on her back pushed bullets out as the flesh closed around them. Every time a soldier raised his rifle too high, her head snapped toward him.
One soldier lifted his weapon.
Cena raised the metal.
The young doctor shouted before Malcolm ordered him. "Lower it! Lower it now!"
The soldier lowered his rifle.
Cena’s hand dropped.
Iyisha gripped Malcolm’s arm. "She understands."
"I know," Malcolm said. "She’s protecting you, so keep moving."
They backed down the first stretch of the road. The fort yard opened behind them as the soldiers kept their distance. The road curved down toward the waterfront, with low walls in some places, a tipped maintenance truck near the side, and service carts near the wall. Long gaps stretched between every piece of cover. The dock was still far beyond the stone steps.
The helicopter above the wall shifted lower.
Cena stopped walking.
Iyisha stopped too.
The helicopter gun turned toward the road.
Cena bent her knees and lifted the metal sheet with both hands.
The helicopter pulled sideways.
The soldiers held.
The group moved again.
The retreat dragged on until Iyisha’s feet hurt against the concrete and her legs shook under her. Malcolm carried most of her weight now. The sheet and lab coat clung to her with sweat. The young doctor’s voice started failing as he kept shouting the same warning.
"Hold fire. The subject is exposed. Hold fire."
A soldier near the trucks shouted, "Doctor Stevens, step away from him."
The doctor shook his head fast. "I can’t."
Malcolm kept the pistol under his jaw.
They reached the tipped maintenance truck, but Arnulf did not let anyone settle behind it.
"Keep moving," he shouted. "Use it for cover and cross."
The survivors crowded behind the truck and the low wall beside it. Ahead, the service road opened toward the stone steps. Beyond the steps, Iyisha could see the wooden military pier pushing out over the water. The yacht rocked near the far end, tied hard against the dock while waves hit the posts beneath it.
Cena stepped closer to Iyisha’s side of the truck. The bent metal sheet dragged over the concrete in her hand. One soldier lifted his rifle too high.
Cena’s head snapped toward him.
The shot struck the pavement near her foot.
Everything broke.
Cena roared and hurled the metal sheet at the nearest truck. It hit the windshield and folded into the cab. Men scattered. The helicopter above the wall swung its gun toward the road.
Malcolm lifted Iyisha against his side and moved before the gunfire reached them.
They ran, but Iyisha kept looking back at Cena.
Cena swung one arm through the first line of soldiers behind them, and the men flew off their feet, slamming into the truck, the wall, and the pavement while rifles tore into her back.
"Cena!" Iyisha screamed.
Cena looked back once.
Then she turned and hit the next group before they could fire into the road.
The stone steps came into view. Arnulf reached them first and waved everyone down.
"Keep moving."
The steps were wet with spray and grit. Survivors grabbed the rail, the wall, and each other.
The helicopter circled back.
Cena saw it from the road. She picked up a broken axle from the maintenance truck and lifted it over one shoulder.
The helicopter pulled away before firing.
Iyisha sobbed through clenched teeth. "Cena!"
They reached the bottom of the steps.
The wooden pier stretched ahead over the water. It was wide enough for supply crates and patrol crews, but it still moved under the waves. The planks were dark with spray. Thick posts held the sides. The yacht rocked near the far end, its dark hull hitting the bumpers with every wave.
Everyone moved onto the wood.
The pier dipped under the weight of the first survivors. Water slapped against the posts below. A woman screamed when the planks shifted under her feet. Phillip shoved his son ahead and caught Lina before she slipped. Harry ran for the first rope. Bert jumped onto the yacht and almost fell before grabbing the rail.
Arnulf climbed onto the deck and went straight for the hatch. "Engine room. Cedric, with me."
Cedric stumbled after him.
Malcolm shoved the young doctor toward them. "Help them."
The doctor looked back at the pistol.
Malcolm stepped closer. "Now."
The doctor ran.
Gunfire cracked from the road.
Iyisha turned.
Cena had left the road.
She was running toward the pier.
Her feet hit the stone steps hard enough to chip the edge of one. Soldiers poured after her with nets and shock poles. Rifles fired into her back. Her shoulders jerked with every hit, but she kept coming toward Iyisha.
The first helicopter lowered over the fort wall. Its gun turned toward the pier.
"Down!" Arnulf shouted.
The helicopter fired.
Rounds tore across the wooden pier. Planks split behind Cena. Water burst up through the gaps. The whole structure tilted hard, and Iyisha grabbed the port rail before she fell. Malcolm caught her waist from behind.
Cena ran into the line of fire.
Bullets ripped into her chest and shoulder. Her body jerked under the hits, but she stayed upright. Iyisha saw her chest tear open. Blood ran down her stomach and legs while the torn muscle started pulling together too slowly.
"Cena!"
Cena grabbed a metal crate from the side of the pier and hurled it at the helicopter. The crate struck near the tail. The aircraft spun sideways. Its gunfire cut across the fort wall instead of the yacht. It clipped the upper ledge and dropped behind the wall with a hard crash.
Fire flashed up behind the stone.
The second helicopter came lower before anyone could breathe. Its gun turned toward the yacht.
Arnulf, Phillip, Harry, Bert, Archie, and Chanse fired from the pier and deck. The helicopter kept coming. Marybeth kept Lance low while Aljun leaned out and fired twice before ducking back down.
Cena reached the pier.
The wood dropped under her weight. The posts groaned. Water slapped higher between the gaps, and the yacht hit the bumpers harder. Cena grabbed a torn section of railing and threw it at the second helicopter.
It missed and spun into the water.
The helicopter gun turned back toward the yacht.
Cena grabbed another piece of metal, part of a broken mooring frame near the steps, and threw before the helicopter finished lining up.
It hit.
The helicopter lurched. Smoke burst from its side. It tried to rise, dipped toward the fort wall, then struck the stone edge and dropped behind the yard with a heavy boom.
The pier rocked under the blast.
Iyisha held the rail with both hands and turned back.
Cena was close now.
Close enough to see the wounds closing under torn skin. Close enough to see her ruined mouth working around sounds that would not form.
Soldiers rushed onto the top of the pier behind her. Nets dragged over the wet planks. Shock poles lifted. Rifles aimed. The wooden pier dipped under Cena’s weight as the water struck the posts below, and the yacht slammed against the bumpers hard enough to make everyone on deck grab for something.
"Come on," Iyisha sobbed. "Please. Come on."
Malcolm climbed onto the yacht and turned back, one foot braced against the rail. "Iyisha, get on."
She shook her head hard. "No. Cena first."
Cena reached for her.
For one second, Iyisha thought she was coming aboard.
Instead, Cena bent and grabbed Iyisha around the waist. Iyisha cried out as her feet left the pier. Cena lifted her over the gap and pushed her toward the yacht with both hands, careful enough not to crush her, rough enough to drive pain through her ribs.
Malcolm caught Iyisha under the arms and hauled her over the side.
Iyisha hit the deck on her knees. Then she twisted back at once and lunged for Cena.
"No."
She caught one huge finger with both hands. It was too thick for her to hold properly, but she clawed at it anyway, nails scraping against blood and torn skin as she tried to pull Cena closer.
"Come with me," Iyisha sobbed. "Please. Please, Cena. Come aboard."
Cena stayed at the edge of the pier with one hand stretched toward the yacht. Blood ran down her arm and dripped onto the planks. Iyisha clung to one huge finger with both hands, too small to pull her closer, but still trying.
Cena’s finger curled once around Iyisha’s hands. It could have crushed them if she forgot herself.
She did not.
Behind Cena, soldiers raised their rifles.
A net opened wide between two men.
The yacht engine coughed under the deck.
Then it started.
Iyisha pulled harder on Cena’s finger. Her nails scraped against blood and torn flesh. "Please. Please, just step in. We can go together."
Cena looked at the yacht.
Then at the soldiers rushing down the pier.
Then back at Iyisha.
Her torn mouth opened. Her jaw shifted wrong. The first sound came out rough and broken, barely more than air forced through damaged flesh.
"...sha..."
Iyisha stopped breathing.
Malcolm grabbed her around the waist because she was leaning too far over the rail.
"No," Iyisha cried. "She said my name. Malcolm, she said my name."
Cena’s huge finger tightened once around her hands.
Iyisha shook her head and clung harder. "Please. Don’t leave me again."
Cena’s free hand lifted to her hair. The movement was slow and broken. Her clumsy fingers pushed the wet strands away from her face.
Iyisha’s chest hitched. "No."
Cena looked at her one last time.
Her mouth opened again.
The word came rough and broken.
"Go."
