Chapter 79: Chapter 79 - Malcolm To The Rescue
The sound that followed was not a command.
It was a shot.
The leader’s head snapped sideways as if yanked by an invisible hand, his body folding before the echo finished rolling through the square, knees buckling, his rifle slipping from his fingers as he hit the frozen concrete hard and did not move again.
For half a second, no one understood what they were seeing.
Then the compound exploded.
"Leader’s down!"
"Find the shooter!"
Gunfire erupted from windows, doorways, and blind corners between the buildings, uneven and frantic, shots slamming into concrete and metal as glass shattered and raiders shouted over one another, some diving behind people and walls, others firing blindly down snow-choked alleys thick with smoke and confusion.
"Return fire!"
"Move, move!"
Iyisha was grabbed violently.
Hands tore her from the line, dragging her across the open ground toward a vehicle that roared to life, its engine screaming as bodies rushed it from every direction.
"Get to the car!"
She stumbled, her shoulder slamming into cold metal as someone shoved her forward.
A man yanked her back against him, locking an arm around her chest as he leaned out to fire, using her body as cover while others scrambled for the vehicles.
Gunshots rained down.
People ran in every direction, slipping on snow, crashing into one another, some falling and not getting back up. Iyisha’s vision jumped from face to face, from movement to movement, trying to make sense of the chaos tearing the square apart.
She saw Mary and Ester near the edge of the clearing, both of them struggling to drag Lando across the ground. His body jerked once, a sharp, involuntary twitch, before his head fell back and he went limp again.
Mary froze.
Her hands stayed on Lando’s coat, but her eyes lifted, wide and empty, locking onto Iyisha’s as if searching for something she couldn’t name.
For a moment, no one moved.
Iyisha swallowed.
She nodded.
Mary’s breath shuddered. Ester tightened her grip. Together, they pulled again, harder this time, as gunfire tore into the ground around them.
She shut her eyes.
Not from the noise.
From the fear that they would not make it. That Mary would keep pulling. That Ester would keep trying. That Lando would not move again.
The sound collapsed inward.
Gunshots blurred into a piercing ring that split her head, drowning everything else as heat tore across her shoulder, pain distant and unreal, as though it belonged to someone else entirely. She could not hear herself breathe.
A rush of air snapped past her face.
So close it lifted strands of her hair, stole the warmth from her skin.
She gasped and her eyes flew open.
"Move!" the man behind her shouted, dragging her faster, yanking her hard against him as he used her body to shield his own.
Her feet barely touched the ground.
Figures poured out from between the buildings, silhouettes cutting through smoke and falling snow, weapons raised, voices shouting over one another.
Then her breath caught.
Across the square, through the chaos and the ringing in her ears, she saw him.
Malcolm.
The same shape she had dreamed of the night before.
Standing there as if the world had narrowed to a single point between them.
She drank in the sight of him as if it were air, as if looking at Malcolm could steady the chaos clawing at her chest, emotions colliding too fast to name, relief and terror and something fragile and hopeful twisting together until one thought rose above all the others, sudden and overwhelming.
She could live.
The realization hit her so hard it almost hurt.
"Malcolm," she shouted, her voice tearing out of her before she could stop it, thin and desperate against the roar of gunfire.
The man dragging her swore and yanked her harder, his grip bruising as he used her weight to shield himself, pulling her sideways as boots pounded past them and bodies rushed for cover.
Malcolm did not move closer.
For a terrifying second, she thought he would.
Then she saw him plant his feet.
People ran between them, shadows cutting across her vision, raiders shouting, civilians screaming, the square breaking itself apart in motion and noise, and still he stood there, unmoving, his rifle lifting with deliberate calm.
Too far, her mind screamed.
They were too far.
Her breath caught painfully in her throat as fear surged, sharp and absolute. Was he really going to shoot from there. Was he really going to risk it with her body in the way, with the distance, with the chaos.
Her knees began to shake.
Her breath came fast and shallow, chest tightening as instinct begged her to shut her eyes, to turn away, to protect herself from what might come.
She did not.
She stayed still.
Her body trembled, fear screaming through every nerve, but somewhere beneath it all her mind made a choice, quiet and unshakable.
She trusted him.
Blindly.
Malcolm’s gaze never left her.
The world seemed to narrow around him as he exhaled, steady and controlled, the rifle settling into place as if everything else had finally fallen away.
The shot rang out.
And in that instant, with her heart hammering and her breath suspended, Iyisha waited.
Her weight vanished all at once.
The arm around her chest slackened, then disappeared, and the man behind her collapsed backward, dragging her down with him as his body hit the ground hard.
Iyisha fell.
Her knees struck first, then her hands, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs as her body shook uncontrollably. Snow and grit burned into her palms as she twisted, heart pounding, and glanced back before she could stop herself.
The man lay still.
There was a dark, perfect hole in his head.
She gasped.
The ringing in her ears surged, sharp and overwhelming, the world reduced to flashes and motion without sound. Through it, she saw Malcolm.
He moved with frightening calm.
He raised his gun and fired.
Another man fell.
The recoil barely shifted him. His steps were measured, unhurried, as he advanced through the chaos, firing only when he needed to, each shot clean, deliberate, final.
Iyisha could not look away.
The square burned around him, people running, bodies dropping, gunfire cracking from every direction, but her world narrowed to Malcolm alone, to the way his face never changed, to the way he moved as if fear had no claim on him.
Her body trembled harder.
Tears spilled without warning, hot against her cold skin, her breath breaking into sobs she could not stop as the ringing in her ears screamed louder than the gunfire ever had.
Then Malcolm ran.
The calm shattered as he broke into a sprint, boots pounding against frozen concrete, his weapon lowering as he closed the distance between them.
"Iyisha," he shouted, his voice cutting through the ringing at last.
He reached her and dropped to his knees, arms wrapping around her as if she might disappear if he let go.
She clutched him back, fingers digging into his coat, sobbing into his chest as the world finally caught up with her.
She was shaking.
She was crying.
She was alive.
And for the first time, she let herself believe it.
