#thirty-one

It was like a wake-up. Out of all the noises around him, he couldn’t hear her. And that realization quickly pulled at his reins inside his skull.

She’s out here with me!

He searched for that flash of red in the darkness. The shine of her flashlight. And that abnormal orange highlighting of a prey.

She was running towards him, five roofs away from him.

A sudden snap of tension cut through the night.

Coming towards Jack.

It snaked into her shrunken cone of vision, almost forcing her into a halt — instinct telling her something was coming at her! And it wouldn’t stop! 

Before she knew it, it wrapped around her stomach.

To any Runner, the first thought would be a Night Hunter, ready to devour them!

“God - AHHHHH!” Jack knew better.

Freakazoid had fired his tendrils at her again.

She hated them!

And her arms clenched on them instinctively for dear life while she didn’t feel the ground beneath her feet. Swooshed forward like a dart. Fear, anger and disbelief mingled in her chest.

It felt like being on one of those attraction rides that pulled you up. Only in an almost vertical arc.

“Got you!”

The tendrils recoiled back into his open slit arm while he quickly caught her in his arms and tossed her lightly onto her feet, back into the sprint.

“Keep moving!” he muttered.

Didn’t need to tell her twice but again! 

Jack bit down any complaint or curses she had at him, swallowing in her pride. 

Thanks to Freakazoid’s thankful boost, it had sent her a few meters ahead, and for a heartbeat, she stumbled, then caught herself. Back to sprinting alongside Freakazoid. 

They couldn’t afford to slow down over a little scare. 

The rooftops soon ran out.

Down below was a collapsed plaza and the wide street cutting through the Market Town like a raging river. 

Ahead, the Heights stood, ringed with firelight and gun flashes.

The infected swarmed around the fences, scrambling for the way in, only to have bullets drilled into their skulls and the standing UV lamps directed at them like a child with a magnifying glass over ants.

The gates were bashed down but in the way were the hornets’ vehicles, cramped in so that no Biters could come in but survivors couldn’t come out.

Ahead, the Heights rose at last. A full block away, its stacked balconies bristled with barricades, and the glow of UV lamps cut sharp against the black sky. It stood like a besieged lighthouse, ringed with firelight and gun flashes.

“What’s taking so long?”

“Hey! There’s something comin-”

THUD!

A stranger vaulting over one of the keeps sprung at the first bandit, claws out. He caught his head as though snatching a ball, talons biting into the back of his skull. And it went by so fast, Crane yanking the thug forward into the rising piston of his knee.

CRACK!

The crack was wet and ugly, nose caved, teeth burst loose. The body folded limply to the asphalt before the other two bandits at the gate could do…anything.

“Shit- Ack!”

The swing of the assault rifle never lined up at Freakazoid, when the brunette springboarded over the jeep and angled a sharp kick to the gunner’s legs. Timbered down, with Jack on top.

Using the butt of his own weapon to smash into his temple.

BAM!

Jack ditched the rifle aside as she climbed up on her feet, walking alongside Freakazoid towards the last one in their way.

“Ah…Ahhh!” 

The third guard faltered, eyes darting between his bleeding crew and the two Runners approaching him. It wasn’t worth it anymore! He turned and bolted for the streets.

Into the horde, hoping to find safety that he’d never get within the few minutes of darkness.

Crane’s icy blue gaze swept from the ground up. Every floor was filled with frightened and scrambling orange-lit humans behind walls but a large crowd clashed on the rooftop. 

That was where the main action was held.

“Go! I’ll cover the stairs!” Jack hollered.

Freakazoid nodded and bolted through the parking lot. One tendril swing and up the balconies he shot like a bouncing bullet, claws digging into the walls.

Terrifying sight. Jack hurried to the Heights’ main door.

The first flight of stairs was already a pain on its own. The survivors had piled furniture up the steps, roped to the railings, the only way up was through the open stairwell gap above. 

Jack kicked off a cupboard and gripped on the edge to pull herself up.

Enough to peek at the next floor above. 

The hallway stretched narrow, choked with cowering shadows. Any residents Rais’ men corralled were huddled in a cluster against the wall. Their frightened, tired and angry faces flickered under lamps.

It was a pointless fight to begin with, against brutes like them. 

“Quiet down!”

Three bandits, two with guns. One irritatedly swept his barrel from face to face.

“We don’t want wasting our bullets if we have to,” the thug threatened.

The one with a machete sauntered around the crowd, before he lazed against the stairwell. Cocking his chin at the weaklings.

“This will be all over before you know it.”

Before him, all of their eyes stretched wide, filled with shock. They were already that scared with that one-liner. 

The bandit chuckled. Unaware that a wild dog had climbed over the railing.

Jack surged up in a single heave, wrapping her limbs around his body like a clamp and letting gravity take them both down. 

THUD!

“Ugh-!” 

The pair crashed hard against the floorboards, knocking a few things around. With her weight pinned on him and his weapon clattering out of his hand, she dug her knee down on his back to stop him from getting up.

“Shit!” In a split second, the rifles swung towards the surprise intruder. But in a hurry, one of the gunners barked a warning at the residents.

“Don’t move!” He kept the barrel leveled at them, finger tight on the trigger.

“Get off him!” the other demanded.

“You really pick a bad night to be raiding a Safe Zone,” Jack droned, pressing her knee further down on his spine and pulling his arm. 

He let out a strangled cry, his free hand scraping at the floor.

“Call off your mates and you might leave with your legs intact.”

“W-We’re just here for Brecken, ok?!”

Jack flinched. The name struck like a fist to her gut, the gripping dread from earlier sneaking back in.

Brecken?

“What did you say?”

“N-New boss asked for someone named Jack Brecken. So we figured…why not the guy from the Tower!”

“Last chance! Get off him!” his friend demanded, another step forward.

If he had to beat her down while she was distracted, so be it.

She was too much in her thoughts, after all. Jack remembered what Duman said yesterday.

“...Alexander’s after you, Jack.”

The dread swelled into fury.

“He’s opened his doors to those dogs now. Word is he’s got them to keep their eyes peeled for you.”

These mongrels went after her cousin to get to her.

Alexander’s after her family…

“Once we get him talking, we can find this chick and hand her over to him-”

CRACK!

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

The scream was ear-piercing. On the floor, the bandit curled up into a ball, clutching his dislocated shoulder. Wailing in excruciating pain as he dragged himself across the floor.

Death would have been better than this. 

And it was horrible to the others. The proud men of Rais, no strangers to cruelty, still reeled at the sight of one of their own brought so low by a woman.

The brunette shot up onto her feet, almost playful in her steps as she walked over the crying bandit.

“Well, you’ve found her.”

Fury washed over the Wild Dog’s face, wide grin. Ready to clamp her teeth on all of them.

Valchos dared to send goons after Harris!

And that was something she could never forgive.

“Name’s Jack Brecken. But you might know me by another name.”

Now both rifles were pointed dead at her. Almost fearing she’d do something stupid if they didn’t.

Fear?

The two men hadn’t felt like this since the very beginning. They’ve witnessed all sorts of cruelty. Been actors themselves into the slaughter under Rais’ command. 

But watching some random woman dislocate his arm like that? And look that crazy?

Like she was prepared to face death.

“I was bloody notorious in the ring.”

She raised her hand up at a large cloth — she had noticed this draping over the railings on the next floor. It was a slow reach, prompting the barrels to tighten on her.

But the triggers weren’t pulled on the crazy woman.

“THEY CALL ME MAD JACK FOR A REASON!” she roared.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.