“Let her do it,” Jesse said from behind me. “Who knows when we’ll have another controlled environment like this?”
A stretch of silence passed between Jesse and Roark, some kind of wordless communication that involved glaring and swatting at flies, and ended with Roark turning away to touch Shea’s arm. “Bit of advice. Ye can blow a hole in its nappy arse and it’ll keep on walking like John fecking Wayne. Gotta hit the brain, eh?”
She nodded, chin quivering. “Got it.”
Jesse moved his mouth to my ear, his breath sending shivers down my neck. “Doing okay?”
I couldn’t sense other aphids and didn’t feel any wavering strain from the commands I was pushing. “Super.”
He traced a finger over my shoulder blade. “Some of your spots are fading. But here—” He touched the top of my spine. “And here.” His finger circled an area beneath my shoulder. “These are new.”
The canvas on my back morphed every time I communicated with aphids. Freaky as hell, but I should be thankful I hadn’t grown antennas and an exoskeleton shell.
Shea slowly inhaled, exhaled, and squeezed the trigger. The bullet zipped off into the forest, missing its mark by several feet. She adjusted her stance and missed three more times, taking raspy breaths between each trigger pull. “Son of a bitch.”
I held the aphid’s body as stiffly as possible, preventing it from dodging or moving. It was damned disgruntled about that, its screeches pitching into ear-splitting war cries.
Shea’s nervousness was expected. She’d never shot a gun, and her target was far more intimidating than the paper outlines I’d practiced on with Joel.
Roark tightened his hand around the sword. “Put some bitch in it.” His voice was teasing despite the tick in his jaw.
“I’m trying, alright?” She blew out a stream of air, stirring the black curls around her face.
I recognized the determination in her eyes. The same kind of ferocity I felt every time I slayed a monster. It wasn’t hard to reach that level of brutality. All I needed was a flash of memory, of aphids gathered around Joel’s body, the tendons in his neck taut with pain, his lips pulled away from his gums, his eyes bulging like porcelain orbs, mutating.
“Shea,” I said, quietly. “One of these things killed your husband.” Pain flashed across her face, but I kept going. “Jackson traveled a long ass way to gather clothes and food for you, and a mutation just like this one stabbed its suckers into his neck and drained his life.”
A noise gurgled in her throat, and her lips disappeared between her teeth. Her transformation happened in seconds. Her chest rose, her shoulders rolled back, and her arms locked in place, steadying the gun.
Then the bullets flew. She hit trees, riddled the ground, and grazed the aphid’s limbs. Lead found its torso, ripping a squeal from its gaped jaw. She squeezed the trigger over and over, and finally, a bullet pierced through its skull.
The body jerked then dropped to the ground, unmoving. The vibrations inside me snapped, disintegrating with its life.
She didn’t let up, spraying bullets at limbs and guts as it lay in a pile of peppered flesh.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Roark grabbed her elbow. “Stall the balls, Annie Oakley. You’ll use up all the ammo.”
She stopped, but the report of booms continued. Multiple shots fired, off in the distance, echoed across the field.
Georges and Tallis. Oh fuck, no. I bit my lip hard, hard enough to jerk me into action. Contracting my stomach, I choked all the energy there and sent it out, across the field, in the direction of the noise.
I was met with…nothing. “I don’t feel aphids. They must be out of range.”
Jesse’s heat vanished from my back. In the next breath, he sprinted away, bow in hand, shoulder muscles flexing in the glare of the sun.
My heart raced, as did my mind, imploding with concern for Georges and Tallis. I yanked on my shirt and spun toward Roark.
His body was poised to bolt after Jesse, but his teeth were clamped in frustration. “Can’t leave ye two alone.”
“Stay with Shea.” I caught Shea’s eye, and she tossed me the carbine.
The muscles in his chest flexed. “Evie—”
“Not arguing this.” I exchanged the magazine in the carbine with a full one on my belt and took off after Jesse, sprinting through tall grass, the exposed skin on my arms baking in the unforgiving heat.
Halfway across the field, I felt them. Dozens of pulsing beacons, wild and menacing. The pauses between the rifle booms stretched longer and longer, until silence weighted the air.
The closer I got, the faster I ran. Maybe it was my super speed kicking in. Maybe it was the fear building in my gut. I passed Jesse’s sprint, his shout chasing me into the valley, where I skidded to a stop, lungs burning, and adrenaline surging through my blood.