Page 76 of Diamond

I retch and look away. Should I try to climb back out, or go down the underground passage to get to the woman? I can't decide. My mind goes to Kuret and I wonder how he is doing or whether he needs any help. But the emerald color of the woman's hair reminds me of Tehlmar's limp head in Kuret's hand and I realize that I am worrying in vain.

He can take care of himself, especially if he has a gun now.

Kuret can handle theharoomzadewhile I do my best to save this woman. The cracks in the rocks are tearing away at me and I hold in a curse when one sharp piece of shale slices at my face. It is a kind treatment in comparison to what the rest of my body is going through.

There is enough space between the opening of the crack and me, but just when I start to think that I am safe, black, beady eyes peer through the crack and meet mine.

Immediately, I grab my gun and fire a shot to its face, watching life leave its eyes before it can make any sounds.

My hands tremble. I just took multiple lives. I know it was in self-defense, but the more I do it, the less I'm able to keep ignoring my actions.

The sight of it makes me nauseous, but I swallow it down. While I continue to move myself down the shale that is lining the bottom of the passage, and thankful that the suit is made of a material that can withstand this.

How has this not already caved in? The thought makes me hurry, heedless of the cuts added as images of both of us being buried alive spur me on.

I lose sight of the chamber as I slide, clutching to the gun in a way that gains me more injuries. Soon after, I'm next to it, but she isn't in it.

I panic, then see a blood trail leading up out of the hole and scramble out to warn her of the fight.

My eyes ache from the sudden light, but it doesn't take long for them to adjust. When they do, my heart skip a beat at the sight of multiple genali racing toward us.

Reaching the green-haired woman, I see blood streaming down the side of her face. Her half-lidded eyes looking around, probably wondering where she is.

The woman is staring, seeming confused. "Get down!" I yell out at her.

She is still frozen when I grab her and yank her away.

I'm terrified, but I can't let them hurt her. "Stay behind me," I yell out, then start shooting.

Half of my shots miss, but some of them fall. I'm convinced we are about to die when I hear the woman finally speak. "Cover me."

I glance over and see that, somehow, she has somehow found a rifle. Without hesitation, she turns back to shoot, not caring about killing them or trying to kill the thrilling sensation I feel of blood splattering everywhere.

Soon after, she's yelling at me that we need to leave, and she's right. We need to get away from this. Fast.

We keep firing, ducking down now since they are firing back, screeching out as we each take wounds.

There are too many of them and I look around wildly for somewhere to hide. Then I see a cave opening at the bottom of the slope and to our right. I yell for the woman to follow me, as I scramble forward, my body screaming out at me in protest.

Bullets hit the shale around us that feel like shards digging into my sides. So, we pick up speed, the honking, wet sounds behind us spurring us on.

When I get close, I realize it's just an outcrop, not a cave, but it's the best protection we have.

There are only a few of them left now, but I doubt there are many bullets left in our weapons.

"What now?" the green-haired woman asks, panic clear in her voice.

I can still hear shots in the distance, so Kuret must still be alive. I want to run toward him, but I can't lead the woman back into more danger.

"It's time to run," I tell her.

"Oh, you think?" she says, her voice incredulous.

I don't know how we manage it, but we evade them, running into a valley until my throat feels like it's on fire from the heavy breaths. We finally duck into a thicket to catch our breath.

I ask her if she's alright. The English comes out of my mouth in an odd manner. Annoyed, I grumble in Farsi, even though I should be completely used to all of this by now.

We bicker back and forth about it for a moment, and then I'm complaining in another language altogether. One I don't recognize. Finally, I force myself to stop.

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