The Ark

24.

"Hang-on," I said, hooking my arms under Delta's and dragging her backward—toward the elevator. She groaned and screwed up her face, her breathing coming out in shallow pants.

I laid her down gently at the elevator doors and jabbed at the call button like a mad-woman. The Forcers and rebels were still brawling half a dozen feet away, too engrossed in their fights to notice our escape. I watched the rebel that had freed me as he ducked and weaved the Forcer's blows—landing a few substantial hits of his own. He seemed to be gaining the upper hand, until he tripped on Delta's duffel.

Oh shit—the duffel. I couldn't leave it there.

I sprang forward just as the Forcer dived onto the rebel—pinning him to the ground. I snuck up behind them, grabbing the bag soundlessly and backing away. The Forcer was punching the back of the rebel's head, slamming his face into the ground over and over. My gut churned at the sight and I wanted to turn away—but I couldn't.

My hands were rummaging through the duffel before I knew what I was doing. I found the tube of anaesthetic syringes Delta had used on the Forcers in the diner, and opened it.

The Forcer had pulled his laser pistol and had it pressed to the back of the rebel's head. I lurched at him, ramming the tip of the needle into his exposed neck before he could see me coming. The clear liquid disappeared under his skin and I was dragged off my feet as he tried to shake me from his back. I clung on—and moments later he collapsed, unconscious, on top the rebel.

The elevator pinged behind me—I sprinted for it, duffel in hand. Delta groaned as I dragged her inside, hitting the button for the ground level. The transparent doors slid shut, just as the rebel managed to get out from underneath the unconscious Forcer.

I blew out a shaky breath and sank to the floor, the quiet of the elevator felt heavy—almost smothering compared to the chaos outside. Beside me, Delta's breaths were becoming so shallow they were practically inaudible and an alarming amount of blood was seeping from her mangled shoulder. If we were to stand a chance of getting away—I was going have to carry her out.

I riffled through the duffel, finding a power patch and slapping it on, welcoming the surge of energy that washed over me. We were almost at the ground floor—and I needed to be ready to run the second the doors opened.

I slung the bag over my back and bent down to pick up Delta—hesitating when something caught my eye through the glass outside.

There was a dark blur of something falling from the tenth floor and shattered glass began to rain down into the academy gardens. Students scattered, screaming and running in all directions—knocking each other over in the process. I squinted, trying to make out the object that had fallen. Only it wasn't an object.

It was Professor Finnlay.

His body lay limp, flattened into the pavement, a dark pool of scarlet leaking out onto the concrete around his head.