Writing in Public: Story 4, Chapter 31
[image error]CHAPTER 31
Hope dropped to the ground. Dirt and pebbles rained down. Dust clogged the air. The building had a big hole in it, blown out by the ghost energy.
But worse, the energy was still building, borne out of years of pent-up frustration.
They’d truly thought she’d kill the 49ers.
The 49ers scattered, tentacles thrown up in the air, twitching.
The ghost turned on them, marching like in a formation. Aiming their anger.
Another building exploded.
Across the square, the guard turned away in shock at the explosion. Mel and Jian rammed him with their bodies. The guard pitched forward, the gun flying out of his hands.
The remaining prisoners ran. Brooks and Mel each took one of Jian’s arms helping her along.
Hope caught sight of them fleeing. The Marine guard rushed to help.
She lurched to her feet, suddenly realizing how far her dance had taken her from the shuttle.
She ran.
Her body was ponderously slow, dragged down by the heavy gravity. The shuttle was too far away.
On the sidelines, a furious Red Stone ran to the guard and snatched up the fallen gun.
A crack cut through the air.
Something punched Hope in the back.
#
From the door of the nearest shuttle, Jian watched Hope fall down. “God, she’s been hit.”
“We got it,” Brooks said. He and Zuver ran across the square.
Rocks and bits of debris flew across the square, hurled by invisible hands. One hand-sized stone nearly missed Brooks’ head.
They reached Hope, doing a quick check of her uniform.
“The CTU took the impact,” Brooks said.
Each man took an arm and pulled Hope to her feet. It was like she was in another body, watching it happen. The feet worked, they moved, and she felt like they were fragile twigs.
And the tight grip Brooks and Zuver had on her arms was the only thing holding her up.
Three of the shuttles lifted up with a roar, kicking dust up all around.
Red Stone snapped tentacles at two nearby 49ers. They launched motion, grabbing rifles.
The fourth shuttle lifted off the ground, hovering three feet up. The door was still open. Two Marines were crowded around the opening.
“C’mon!” they yelled. “Move it! Move it!”
Still too far away.
The 49ers were coming. One lifted up his rifle to aim.
Bam!
The shot went over Hope’s head.
One of the Marines in the doorway drew his deluxe devil blaster and fired.
A blue bolt spat out and slammed into the torso of the 49er. He dropped instantly, smoking.
The other 49er veered off.
The three reached the shuttle. The Marines grabbed Hope and dragged her into the shuttle. Then the two men.
The shuttle rose, door still open, alarm blaring a warning.
Hope sprawled on the deck. Feeling was returning to her body, and along with it pain. Her entire back felt like it was bruised.
The door closed behind her, making the shuttle grown dark inside. Hope lifted her head up, counting off the people. A corpsman cleaned off the cut Mel’s head. Another had Jian’s outer shirt off, checking her injury.
A red-haired corpsman helped Hope sit up and remove her outer shirt. Hope managed a wan smile a squeezed Brooks’ and Zuver’s hands in thanks. She’d done it, but she was hurting too much to celebrate.
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