Page 48 of Brood

Chapter Forty

I don’t get to revel in the sweet sound of Butch’s cries as he fumbles for shelter. From somewhere above us, bullets start raining down at the staggered line of Butch’s men, taking only a few out. “Sarah!” Her name scratches through my throat as I frantically look for Miguel’s girlfriend. I saw her dive away from Butch, only to lose her in the chaos. “Sarah.”

“Jordyn. I’m here.” Her voice comes from the other end of the pickup Butch was using to hide behind. It’s now riddled with bullet holes. Keeping myself crouched down, I round as best I can along the length of the truck to find where Sarah is huddled under the tailgate. Blood is trickling down her neck and leg.

“Come on. We need to get inside.” I reach down and grab her hand hauling her up off the ground, getting her in front of me. “Run as fast as you can for those two brown doors,” I instruct nudging her forward. As fast as we possibly can, given her injuries, we make a break for it. The closer we get, I can make out someone standing there in the door holding it open for us to enter. Sarah reaches the green stairs and is pulled to safety right before a sharp pain radiates throughout my whole body. Instantly, the wind is knocked right out of me, causing me to lunge forward and fall along the stairs I was just about to reach. I hit with a sickening crunch to my face and everything starts to fade in and out around me. Like broken speakers that have been used with the sound too high, crackling with each turn of the volume button. “Jor. Motherfucker! Jordyn!” His voice comes at me full force and I’m suddenly being lifted from the whirl of chaos outside. “Jordyn, damn it, look at me.”

“Brood.” My eyes crack open, looking up at the man my heart belongs to. “I couldn’t just stand by.”

“Jesus baby, I know, you stubborn fucking woman.” My hand drifts up to his face. I let my fingers tangle in his beard, loving the scratching feel of the coarse hairs.

“I love you, Brood.”

“Don’t you dare start saying goodbyes. Where the fuck is Piner!” My eyes start to close again. I can’t seem to keep them open. Why does everything feel so floopy? Is floopy even a word? I smile. It’s kind of a funny word.

“Floopy.” I laugh at my new-found word as everything comes to a slow crawl.

“Damn it. Piner!” Is the last thing I hear as the red edges of darkness consume my vision.

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