Broken City by D.D. Chant

Broken City by D.D. Chant

Author:D.D. Chant
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, adventure, post apocalyptic, futuristic, apocalyptic


Chapter Sixteen

Deeta

I don’t know how long I sleep, but the pain in my head is significantly lessened. Encouraged, I open my eyes. For a dazed second I just stare at him as he is staring at me from behind the desk on the other side of the room.

For a moment, one wildly elated moment, I had thought it to be Tom. The next second I know I am mistaken. On closer inspection the resemblance is not so strong. Tom’s dark blue eyes are replaced in this man by grey eyes, and though he has the same curling black hair, his cheeks are more gaunt than Tom’s. Then as he stands I see that although he is roughly the same height as Tom, he has less width at the shoulder.

As I scramble up from my position on the bed he walks unhurriedly towards the door, effectively closing off any hope of escape. A sensation of suffocation closes over me. He watches my agitation with a silence that I find horribly chilling.

“Though all should stumble, though many may fall, with you at my side I will always stand tall.” His voice is so like Tom’s that at first I hardly hear what he has said, but the silence impresses the realisation upon me that he expects some sort of answer.

“What?”

“It’s the inscription on the locket; a corruption of our family motto.”

My hand flies guiltily to my throat, and I wait in dread for his next words.

“How is Tommy?”

He’s still standing in front of the door, at ease apparently, but watchful. I decide then and there that I’ll not tell him a thing. I swallow convulsively, and edge behind the desk.

“I asked you a question.”

“Tommy who?”

Before I’ve even finished my sentence he’s crossed the room. Dragging me over the desk, his eyes blaze down into mine. Dimly I feel its paraphernalia digging into my back, when he speaks his voice is quiet but filled with anger.

“If your tribe has hurt Tommy in any way, I’ll destroy you all.” My knee connects with his stomach and he groans. His hold on me relaxes a little, but as I pull away from him he drags me back.

Our struggle is furious, and in our writhing we clear the desk and its clutter. Miscellaneous items fall noisily to the floor. I don’t know how long we wrestle, but it can’t be long. My terror and desperation gives me strength, but I know that his brute force will overpower me quickly enough. It’s a surprise when I feel him slip to the floor. I stare up at Jan where she stands over him, a metal table leg in her hand.

“Are you alright, Deet?” Her voice, like her hands, is steady.

“I’m fine, nice hit,” I answer breathlessly.

“Who the he…” He just manages to restrain himself. “Who are you?”

The man on the floor is still holding his head, but he struggles upright as he speaks.

“Who are you?” counters Jan, lifting the table leg and holding it like a cricket bat.

“I hardly think you qualify for a ‘lady’s first’.



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