Phoenix13: Redemption (Phoenix13 Book 2)

Part #8: Una Anima: Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Once outside the prison, Jason dodged pedestrians, men and women with dogs and guns who turned to chase him as he passed. The guards followed close behind. Close, but never close enough to get him in their sights. "Get him!" They screamed over and over. "Don't let him get away!" There was a special kind of fury in the way they waved their weapons and beat their feet on the rugged streets of Jyith. It was their fault that Jason and Alexx had escaped, and they knew it. If they allowed them to escape—especially with James McKinley's frozen body—they'd be the ones to pay the price.

"This way!" Alexx dove sideways into an alley, quick as a bar of soap slipping through greased fingers. The tails of his long coat flapped behind him, snapping around his ankles like angry dogs. Jason followed close behind, impeded by his father's weight in his arms.

"That way," they heard a guard shout. "In there!"

The gates of Jyith were only a quarter mile away now; their metal pillars glistened dully in the sun's last light. Jason could hear the crowd getting closer. Vigilantes and guards thirsty for blood. If he didn't get out soon, the only routes out would close. They'd be trapped.

Alexx seemed to have come to the same conclusion. He had paused, head tilted as he listened to the approaching mob. "Well, McKinley." He slapped his coat with the flat of his palm. The resulting sound was like a muted gunshot between the close brick walls. "I'll see you in the plane." Spinning around, he disappeared into the gloom, dodging empty boxes and garbage cans as he went.

"Fuck you too, Sullivan!" Jason yelled after him. A moment later Jason realized his outburst had given away his exact position. Tightening his grip on his father's body, he heavy the frost-heavy form over his shoulder and took off as fast as he could toward the distant gates. Along the way he stopped to pull down a tarp, which he wrapped tightly around his father's rigid form. Maybe I'll get lucky and the guards won't ask too many questions, he thought. And then, fuck that; luck's for superstitious dumbshits. Better have a plan, McKinley.

When he reached the gates, the guards drew their weapons at once. Red lasers settled on Jason's chest, throat, forehead. A silent warning: If you come any closer, we'll shoot.

One guard said something in Fafykrnamnrysh. Jason shook his head, making a face to show that he didn't understand. "State your name, nation, and reason for leaving Jyith," the guard repeated, this time in the Language of Truce. His accent was as heavy and thick as the armor he wore.

"Rith Calden," Jason said quickly. He was acutely aware of the crowd catching up behind him. Their distant shouts were already audible, the flickering glow of their flashlights and torches filling the dark streets. He adjusted his father's tarp-wrapped body in his arms, heaving a deep breath. "I'm from Nathandria. Bet you could tell by the accent." His heart beat fiercely in his chest; sweat beaded on the back of his neck despite the freezing cold of encroaching night. "I'm leaving Jiyth cuz there's a crazy mob chasing some poor bastard around the city and I'm totally anti-violence." He did his best to look scared and nervous—not a very hard task given his situation. "They're coming this way. I didn't wanna get killed in the riots, please. Let me past."

"What're you holding?" the second guard asked. His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flaring as he spoke. "Is that a body, Mr. Calden?"

"No," Jason lied smoothly. "It's a statue I got from a local artist. Wanna see?" He peeled back the tarp, revealing James's peacefully frozen face. "It's supposed to look like my brother who died in battle a couple years back. I paid a lot for this, and if those crazy rioters destroy it, I'll be suing your city. I can promise you that."