Page 32 of Beast in the Badlands
Each pulse of energy that courses through me intensifies—the bond we share pushes against whatever else remains of reason within this storm. The ache in my chest grows heavier as desperation claws at my insides like an animal starved for its prey.
A group of Coalition soldiers takes cover behind some shattered equipment nearby; their voices rise above the noise—a cacophony punctuated by fear and confusion. Without hesitation, I leap forward once more, carving through their ranks like a tempest unleashed upon them.
As another soldier falls beneath my blade's edge, fury overtakes reason once more—I won't let anything happen to her. She deserves more than this nightmare—and somehow I'll make sure she finds her way out alive.
CHAPTER 25
EMRY
Ifollow the little girl into the med tent, heart racing. The sounds outside echo through the thin fabric—gunfire, shouting, chaos. Kira stands by the entrance, her weapon clutched tightly in trembling hands. Relief flashes across her face when she sees me.
"What's going on out there?" she asks, eyes wide and frantic.
I shake my head. "It isn't good." My throat tightens. "A squad from the Red Maw Syndicate is here."
Kira goes pale, and I can see the dread creeping in. She’s barely holding it together. I step closer, blocking her view of the tent entrance, forcing her to focus on me instead of the pandemonium beyond.
"Listen to me," I say, steadying my voice as best as I can. "We have to keep fighting. It's all we have left."
Her breath comes in short gasps as she processes my words, fear battling with determination in her eyes. I reach out, gripping her shoulder firmly—a gesture meant to anchor us both in this storm.
"Do you remember our last drill? How we worked together to set up triage?" I ask, pushing back against my own rising anxiety. “We can do it again.”
Kira nods slightly but still looks like a deer caught in headlights. I see that doubt clawing at her resolve; it’s the same fear that gnaws at my insides.
"Grab those supplies," I urge, gesturing toward the medical crates stacked haphazardly in one corner of the tent. “We need bandages and any morphine we have left.”
She hesitates for a heartbeat longer before darting toward the crates, fumbling through them with shaky hands. I turn my attention back to the little girl huddled beside me—a trembling bundle of fear wrapped tightly in a filthy blanket.
“Hey,” I crouch down so we're eye-level, forcing a smile despite the weight of dread pressing down on me. “You’re brave, right?”
She nods vigorously but keeps her eyes wide and wary.
“Good,” I say softly. “Just stay close to us.”
Kira returns with an armful of supplies just as another explosion rocks outside, shaking the very air around us. Dust filters through the seams of the tent fabric; it feels like time is running out.
I glance toward Kira and find her staring at me—her fear palpable but mingled with something else: determination igniting beneath that layer of terror.
"We won't let them take this place," she says quietly but firmly.
“No,” I agree, feeling that same fire ignite within me as well.
The world around me feels like it’s unraveling at the seams, each thread fraying under the relentless pressure of chaos. Gunfire erupts once more, the sound reverberating through the air, sharper and closer now, and I can’t help but flinch involuntarily, my heart racing as adrenaline surges through my veins.
"Kira!" I shout, my voice slicing through the cacophony of noise that surrounds us. "Get ready! Protect the wounded!"
My words are a frantic plea, a desperate command laced with urgency. I can see her nodding, determination flickering in her eyes even as fear shadows her features.
The air thickens with an almost palpable tension, hanging heavy like a storm cloud ready to burst. I brace myself for the worst—death charging toward us, armed with brutality and an insatiable hunger, ready to consume everything in its path. The thought sends a chill down my spine, and I push it aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.
But then, amidst the chaos, screams erupt around us. The unmistakable sound of battle draws nearer, each cry a reminder of the danger that looms just beyond the canvas walls of our makeshift refuge.
A low growl rolls in like thunder, deep and familiar, echoing through the very marrow of my bones. It reverberates with an intensity that pulls me back to a moment where survival felt more than just instinct; it felt like something worth living for. For a heartbeat, I close my eyes, letting the weight of the noise wash over me.
Then I whip around toward the entrance of the tent just as it bursts open.
There he is.
