Rebellion by E L Strife

Author:E L Strife [Strife, E L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-05-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8: Oil and Water

Snatch and I slam into the wall of a nearby building. Heat swirls around us in acrid blues that eat into our clothes. Snatch and I crumple to the dirt. He takes a knee and coughs. When he looks up at me, I see the striations filter through his dark eyes, then fade again. Snatch is a Marked One but perhaps only in moments of crisis, much like when my Chromata consume me during confrontation.

His arm is badly burned, and he’s not going to be worth much in the fight. I take his rifle, and he lets me. “Get below.”

I hand him the device I pulled from Cullin’s neck. “Might control cyborgs. Get it to Belvor back at base.”

“You got this?” he asks.

“Like you said, it’s just a choice to keep going.”

I help him down the tunnel, pocket the handgun, and steady my rifle as best as possible in shaking arms.

I am tired of seeing my friends hurt and killed, tired of failing, of feeling like I’m not living up to the reputation of my heritage. My family is born of rebels.

I have not honored their memory.

My hands tremble as I peer out of the alley to sort out who might have shot at us.

A cyborg patrols the streets amid the battle between Rebels and rejects. I’m not sure how it knows which of us to shoot. Some of the rebels are still in Triton Force uniforms.

Perhaps it is because they don’t have trackers.

Frimna made everyone cut them out so we couldn’t be followed underground.

The unit sprays thousands of credits worth of bullets in seconds. Two rebels fall, and others slink back into hiding.

A man holds his bleeding shoulder not far from me.

Behind the brick corner of the building, I steady Snatch’s rifle, aiming for the head unit of the cyborg. I’ve shot a cyborg before. I hope I can do it again.

I take a shot, then another for good measure, like Ally taught me. The rifle kicks hard against my tired body.

The cyborg’s head smokes. It wanders off course, spraying wild shots up the street.

I fire at its weapon. When it circles away from me, I find the power cell and punch a hole in it.

A blast eats into the brick beside my face, spraying bits that pelt me with painful force. I turn, find the Reject, and fire. They disappear behind a broken-down street cart. It’s good enough for me to take the risk.

Staying low, I run out into the road, grab the injured man by the wrist, and drag him back into the alley, hoping no one shoots. He’s heavy, and I have to lean hard to move him. My legs burn from the strain, but I get him inside and down the tunnel. All I can do is touch his leg and help his Chromata find the injury to slow the bleeding.

“I have to go; I’m sorry,” I tell him. “But this tunnel leads to safety.”

He thanks me and limps down into the darkness.

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