Shadows Ablaze

Chapter 16- Jaxon

A white board with scribbles, arrows, and an amateur drawing of a house clings to the yellowing brick wall, attempting to make its presence smaller, but failing miserably. The board is the only thing any of us can focus on. Zieb leans into it, making the marker squeal as he draws the last arrow toward the house.

"Everyone got it?" He spins to face the team he's assembled. I'm surprised he's actually letting me join. I'm not nearly experienced enough to be of any help, but maybe Zieb felt bad rejecting my request. After all, I am the one who provided all the information.

"What if the dealers aren't in the house?" The humid air drenches the words, making them damp and heavy by the time they reach our ears. Lynni flips her short, blond hair over her shoulder as she waits. Her petite frame makes me think she's part of the lowest tier of Elites. No Skiddy who looks the way she does would find themselves being recruited for the force. She's unorthodox in the normal mannerisms of a cop. It makes me wonder why she chose this career instead of a driver or server or any of the other options. Did she bribe her way here? Is this really where she wanted to end up?

All valid questions that maybe one day I'll be able to ask her. Another day. One that doesn't consist of us raiding and arresting three drug dealers who have managed to infiltrate the community, spreading addiction and death.

"Then we go back tomorrow," Zieb's strong words reply. "And the next day. And the next. And the next. Until we catch them."

He's right, of course. This might not be the last time we conduct the raid. As much as I hope they're not at the warehouse, I know it would be easier to get this done all at once. We need answers and the dealers can provide them.

"If that's all, it's probably time to pack up our things and head out," Zieb says, placing his hand on the door and pulling it open to reveal the main lobby. An orange glow surges through the room, draping sheets of color over everything it touches. The remaining officer and the Sheriff lean against the reception desk at the entrance of the building discussing something we can't hear. Their gazes shift to us as we step into the open and allow the sun to paint us in its colors.

"All ready to go?" The Sheriff speaks first, his attention sliding over each of us in equal time as he analyzes the team.

"Yes sir," Zieb replies. "Just need to collect artillery and gear. Then we're headed out."

The Sheriff grunts, extracting a key from the ring on his waist belt. "Then I assume you'll need this to unlock the room."

Zieb reaches for it, but the Sheriff pulls it to his chest, just out of grasp. "Only take what you need. And don't waste any bullets. We can't afford to replenish them, so don't be stupid."

"Of course, Sir," Zieb agrees, taking another step toward him and wrapping his fingers around the key. The Sheriff doesn't try to pull away this time. Zieb leads the team to the artillery closet. Unlocking the door, we all walk inside.

My eyes widen, darting around the room. I've been in here before, but only for a couple seconds. I wasn't allowed to touch the guns or feel the bullets. This time, it's all at my disposal. My fingers graze the cool metal as I amble past each weapon. I stop at the basket of bullets. I place one in my palm, folding my hand shut against the cold metal. As much as I hope I won't ever have to use one of these and feel its strength, I also crave the power it possesses.

"Put that down Debul," Zieb demands in an amused tone.

I glance at him, bullet still in hand. He plucks the small metal out of my palm and replaces it with a black block. "What is this?" I ask, turning the object in my hands as I note the small, plastic square at the top and the trigger along the base. I press it, sending two small wires flying through the air.