Rush The Game

out what course we should follow and be the one to make the call. I didn’t get it at the time, but I do now. He was getting me ready to take his place. It hurts to think about that, to think about him , so I don’t.
    “Safety in numbers,” I murmur. “But if we don’t cover all the exits, there’s a chance some of them will get out without us noticing.” I hate the decision I’m about to make. I hate letting my team fragment into pieces. But in the big scheme of the mission, it’s the best choice.
    “We split,” I say. I look at the black-haired boy. “What’s your name?”
    “Tom.”
    I nod. “Miki.” I don’t bother to introduce the others since we’ll be splitting up and the chances of him remembering everyone’s name are pretty slim. “Show me your cons.” They all hold out their wrists. Everyone’s con is now a shade of yellow, some more orangey than others. Their clothes are torn, dust and sweat streaking their faces, eyes shadowed and grim. I figure I look pretty much the same as they do.
    Before I can say anything, Luka grabs my wrist and turns it so my con is visible. The little map with the triangles is still in the corner. The live feed of our surroundings still takes up most of the screen. The frame is nowhere near the swirling green it was when we started. It’s a dark yellow, shaded by orange.
    Luka’s eyes meet mine. I don’t give him the chance to say a word.
    “Luka, Tyrone”—I jerk my head toward the corridor they just checked—“Kendra. Lien”—I nod at the corridor they pronounced clear. “Tom, you’re with me.” I pause and take a second to meet each of their gazes in turn. “Remember what I said about orange.”
    “You remember, too,” Luka says with a hard look, and then they’re gone.
    The stairs are a challenge. My injured leg won’t take my full weight, so I have to climb one agonizing step at a time with my good leg, dragging my bad one up behind. We encounter nothing on our way up, but as soon as we reach the next floor we’re caught in the vortex of the battle. The Drau are so numerous and so bright here that the humans fighting them are merely dark silhouettes that pirouette and surge and dance away.
    There’s no time, no chance to make a plan. There’s only me with a stranger at my back, shooting, turning, shooting again, trying to stay on my feet even though my thigh’s screaming in agony with each step I take.
    I don’t know where Luka and Tyrone are, or Lien and Kendra.
    Or Jackson.
    I don’t even know if he’s here. But if he is, if he was sent here to this version of hell, I can only hope he’s safe.
    Instinct makes me duck. Too late. I arch back, my arms surging up, and pain gouges my back, my spine. I’ve been hit. I turn. Tom’s going down, crumpling to the ground. Light comes at me. Adrenaline slams me like a train.
    Grabbing the hilt of my sword, I drag it free of its sheath once more. My attack lacks finesse and any pretense of skill. I hack, I chop—ugly, short movements that get the job done. And still they come. The more I cut down, the more surge forward to take their places.
    Their weapons discharge, shards of light piercing me, making me scream, the agony searing clear through my flesh and muscle and bone.
    I sink to my knees, and still I fight.
    My head jerks up and in that never-ending second, I see the Drau in front of me lift its weapon. I see the flare of the muzzle, burning bright. It fills my vision, fills my mind. I’m frozen, too shocked to even be afraid. I don’t want to die here, kneeling on the floor. I don’t want to die.
    The bright surge comes straight at me and there’s nowhere for me to hide.
    Then a shadow blocks the light.
    “Miki!”
    The shadow is Jackson, throwing his body in front of mine, taking the full brunt of the hit in the dead center of his chest.
    My heart stops.
    Jackson .
    He stands there for a second, not moving, not making a sound, and then he crumples to the ground as if his bones have turned to paper.
    “Jackson!”
    He doesn’t answer. He just lies unmoving on the floor in front of me.
    A red haze rushes across my vision. Hatred rushes through my heart. With a scream, I come to my feet and shoot and shoot. The lights snuff. Another. Another. I’m like a beast guarding her injured mate, snarling and feral, shooting and hacking at any threat. Until there is nothing left to shoot. Nothing left to kill.
    Panting, I stand in a sea of broken chunks of furniture and fallen