a wave of rubble from the wall had shredded it and slammed into the door, blocking it shut. She felt a small electric shock in her pinned leg and saw that the plastic housing around the DORD machine had fractured. The machine is shorting out. I’ve got to get away from it. She heard more noises, definitely movement this time. Is it Shaylon or Samm? She pressed her arms and back against the wall, braced her legs against the machine, and pushed with all her strength.
She moved it an inch, then another, each one slow and agonizing, when suddenly she heard an audible snap in the bowels of the machine, and a surge of electricity racked her body.
The pain was excruciating. Every muscle in her body clenched at once, flexed tighter than she ever knew was possible, and suddenly the pain was gone, and she was gasping for air. Her head felt fuzzy, and she struggled to think; she felt like she’d been beaten with a metal bat but couldn’t tell where. She croaked, trying to speak.
“Help.”
The surge came again, a raging maelstrom of electric current coursing through her body. Her eyes rolled back and the world went dark. Her entire world was formless, placeless pain, and suddenly the shock was gone again. Her heart was fluttering erratically, and she felt her head grow light. She fought to stay awake.
“Help me,” she whispered. Her voice was feeble and hoarse. “The scanner is . . . electrocuting—”
Another burst of electricity cut her off, drowning her in pain, and when it stopped her lungs took five full seconds to start working again, her heart run ragged by the extra current, her body too confused to know what to do. When she finally breathed again, desperately sucking in air, she smelled the acrid stench of her own charred flesh. Her eyes focused slowly, and she saw that the door was open now, just a few inches, and an eye was peeking through—two eyes, one white and one black.
Not an eye, she thought, her brain like mush. It’s the barrel of a gun.
The door rocked slightly, shoved uselessly against the pile of rubble by the soldiers beyond. It didn’t budge. “It’s the girl. Is anyone else alive in there?”
“You have to help me,” she croaked. “My heart is stopping.”
“Can you see the prisoner? Has he already escaped?”
“The beats are . . . too erratic,” she said, feeling her body start to shut down—her muscles, her heart, her lungs slowly fading into nothing. “You have to help me. One more shock . . . and I’m . . . .”
She heard voices—shouting and screaming that seemed a hundred miles away. A warm breeze blew softly across her face, and she opened her eyes. The world was a formless blur, and yet something was there, moving, and suddenly the pressure on her legs was gone. The massive DORD machine flew across the room; the world rang in her ears. Strong arms pulled her clear of the wreckage, and she tried to focus. Someone was holding her, carrying her, checking her for wounds.
“Thank you,” she coughed. Her voice was so quiet she could barely hear it herself. She clung to her rescuer tightly. “I think . . . he got away.”
“I’m right here, Kira.”
I know that voice.
She struggled to think, straining her eyes, and slowly the world came into focus: Samm was holding her, his clothes still smoking from the explosion, the tattered restraints hanging useless from his arms. Around them the room was destroyed, the floor covered with rubble, the wall a gaping hole. The trees swayed in the wind. The crumpled mass of the DORD machine lay discarded in the corner; Shaylon lay in the other corner, bloody and still.
She looked up at Samm. “You saved me.”
The door finally wrenched open, and soldiers poured in like a flood. “Put her down!”
“He saved me.”
“Put her down now!”
Samm knelt, laying Kira gently on the floor. As soon as she was clear, the soldiers sprang forward and knocked him down with the butts of their rifles. Kira tried to speak, struggling to protest, but she was too weak. All she could do was watch.
The room was dark. Hospital equipment beeped softly, tiny lights blinking on and off in the shadows. Kira opened her eyes, then closed them, gasping, her mind still full of pain and light, as if she were still in the midst of the explosion.
Samm saved me.
The soldiers had beaten Samm for almost a full minute before chaining him back up, kicking him in the stomach and hammering him with their rifles. He never fought back—he didn’t run when he had the chance, and then he didn’t fight back, he just let them hit him, over and over, an agonizing string of thuds and cracks and grunts of pain.
He’s a Partial, she told herself. She had told herself the same thing a hundred times over the past three days. He’s not even human. We don’t know what he’s doing here, what he’s thinking, what he’s plotting. And yet even as she said it, she knew she didn’t believe it. He wanted the same thing she did: to solve their problems instead of just working around them. On the entire island he was the only one she’d found who agreed with her.
But he was a Partial.
Kira tried to sit up, but a pain in her leg knocked her breath away. The same leg she’d had burned by the DORD machine. She moved the blanket for a better look, but was bandaged and she couldn’t see it well. She could recognize the itchy burn of her muscle fibers knitting back together, and knew she’d been treated with a regen box. It would be a while before she was well enough to sit up, let alone stand or walk.
She heard a soft sigh and looked across the room at another hospital bed. There were more than enough rooms in the hospital, but only enough juice to power a few floors, so most patients were doubled up. She peered closer at the shape in the bed, nearly faceless in the dim light, and realized with a start that it was Shaylon. He must have been shattered by the explosion—the way he was bandaged, he must have had dozens of broken bones, and hundreds of cuts and abrasions from the shrapnel.
His breaths were small and feeble, but he was breathing on his own, and he appeared stable. It looked like he was going to pull through.
He’d seen the Predator in the blood, and he’d heard her speculations on its nature. Had she given too much away? Had she exposed too many secrets? The island was ready to burst into flames at the slightest spark; when he wakes up, please let him keep quiet.
Kira heard footsteps in the hallway and looked at the door just in time to see it open.
“You’re awake,” said Nurse Hardy.
“What happened?” Kira demanded. “How long was I out?” She stopped short when she saw the nurse wheel another bed into the room. It was Madison. Kira sat up quickly, gasping at the stab of pain in her leg.
“Madison, are you all right?”
“She went into early labor,” said Nurse Hardy. “We managed to stop it, but I don’t know if she’s going to make it much further.”
“I’ll be fine,” said Madison.
