Apex

Chapter 20

*Warning: Graphic Imagery* 

•Kriss•

Ignoring my instincts, I crept back to the entrance of the hiding space. I peaked through the wires that hung like vines and searched the street.

The giant's light was moving around sporadically. Bullets pelted his face, causing splashes of dark green to litter his cheeks. Some shots landed in his already oozing eye sockets.

He was on his hands and knees, hands sweeping blinding across the street. I caught sight of Audrey kneeling just out of range of those hands, gun steady and firing as fast and as accurately as she could manage.

She wasn't grinning or giving any snarky comments. Her expression was set, eyes dead as she unloaded her weapon into the alien's face. Two others, Asher and Hudson were closer. Fighting off a screaming creature, both apparently failing to hit its weak spot. It switched between pouncing at one of them and swiping at the other.

I noticed everyone was making their way, however slowly, to where I was standing.

Then, there was Paxton.

He was on the sidewalk holding on to someone, slowly pulling them down the street. The chaos Hudson, Asher, and Audrey were causing was enough to distract the giant, but that wouldn't last long. I ran to them.

A mop of a chestnut hair framed a flushed face. Bangs clung to his sweat soaked forehead.  His face was scrunched in pain. Tears leaked from wide, terrified eyes. I raked my memory for a moment before a man with a sleepy smile popped into my head. Connor. His hand was in his mouth and he was biting down on to keep from screaming. But he couldn't help but moan and sob with every foot of progress Paxton made pulling him. My arm was still clutched to my body, burning with a pain that grounded me but left me useless. It throbbed at the thought of helping. I tried to straighten it experimentally.

Then promptly swallowed a cry and a curse.

I wouldn't be able to do much with one arm, but I could at least try.

With Paxton at his shoulders, I went to attempt to support his legs so that they weren't dragging. When I crouched but his feet I paused.

I blinked. My mind not processing what it was seeing.

Below the knee of his right leg I could see nothing but the rest of his jeans. There was nothing where his shin should be. It was flat and soaked through with blood and gore. Some shards of white tore through the fabric. I could see were a few ribbons of red tissue poking out of the end of his pants like streamers where his foot should be. The metallic scent of blood flooded my nostrils. It had been crushed.

Stepped on.

I saw my arm reaching, hesitating, not knowing how to help him. My stomach showed no such hesitation.

I turned my face away as the acid crept up my throat and spilled onto the ground. I spit a couple of times, my brain still short circuiting.

With my stomach empty, mind numb, dizzy from the scent of blood. I ran on autopilot.

I gripped the bottom of my shirt with both hands. My left arm raged in protest and my fingers prickled with numbness. I pulled in opposite directions, tearing through the fabric as quickly as I could until I had a long enough strip.

I knelt next to where Connor's shin should be. His teary eyes made contact with my for a second. I pressed my lips together and hoped he could read the silent apology on my face. Refocusing on my task, I wound the strip of fabric as tightly as I could above his knee.