Dominance

Chapter 15: Medium-well Roadkill

As Mr Shale and his men confidently surrounded Twister, Sara backed up against him. Her arms were stretched wide, a futile attempt to protect him. Under Twister's soft fur, his muscles were trembling tightly, trying to fight the effects of the serum.

"Stay back!" Sara shrieked, eyeing one GRC man who was waiting patiently with a chain rope restraint in hand. Her brain scrambles for a plan, a way out of this, but all it produced was an overdrive of panic.

Shale let out a scoffed chuckle as he addressed Twister.

"You've always been such a pain to deal with, Specimen 248. It's a shame I can't just dissect you."

Twister's growl crackled painfully between breaths as Shale reloaded his tranquillizer gun. His expression flicked from triumphant to cold. The men around him stood like trained soldiers, waiting for their next command.

"All my research, all my work, has never amounted to anything substantial with you."

Creases suddenly crinkled in his brow and when he spoke again the volume increased aggressively.

"And it pisses ME OFF!"

Shale's voice was almost manic and it physically caused Sara to shrink. His arms waved exaggeratedly, the gun still in his grip.

"Every sample we took, every experiment. A total waste of my time. It was nothing but dead ends. Wasted efforts. And every second of the day you were a fucking pain to deal with."

Shale took a breath.

"You always fought. But I can break you down. Eventually, I always break you."

Twister's growl was wozily fading in and out. He tried with difficulty to keep his posture upright. Occasionally he twitched violently.

Shale's dark gaze suddenly flicked to Sara. There was a prominent crack on the lens of his grimy glasses which had the faintest remnant of blood stuck in it. 

"Until you-" Shale hissed angrily. He rocked forward threatening to reach out and grab at her, but Sara was a fraction quicker. 

She kicked her leg out, just missing his hands clenching the gun, but hitting his arm with enough force to make him fold over to readjust his grip. So she tried again, this time forcing as much of her weight behind the kick as she could.

This time she struck him in the face. Hard.

Blood gushed from his nose and splattered onto her once-white sneakers and pant bottoms. There had been a loud definite crack, which Sara wasn't sure if it was Shale's nose breaking or his glasses, which fell frame dented and lens shattered onto the road.

Sara felt a pang of pride as Shale screamed a mix of fury and pain and clutched his face. His men around him shifted and went to move forward, but Shale managed to put a hand out signalling them to halt. Red seeping through his fingertips flicked towards them with the gesture.

"I'm going to enjoy killing this little bitch myse-"

"-This doesn't seem like a fair fight." Norman's voice interrupted, bellowing down from atop of one of the Jeeps. One hand grasped tightly around a bloodied wound on his opposite arm. Said good arm was hitched over a well-worn duffle bag.

His expression challenged Shale's as three new people congregated around the vehicle where Norman perched.

Two men and a woman backed Norman up. All of them armed, and all of them moving with a graceful but inhuman predatory stride. With the innocent bystanders keeping a generous distance from the drama, and Shale's men looking like clones in their identical uniforms, Norman's reinforcements were easily distinguished apart. On top of that, there was little doubt in Sara's mind that these people were possibly not human. And right now that was actually a relief.