With her attention on the car behind them, she ran into Jackson.
“Pay attention,” he grunted. He had stopped beside one of the caravan cars. He leaned out, looking around the front of the car next to them. They slipped between the car and the truck it was tethered to, high-stepping over the joint. Ahead, she could see Alex in a similar position between a car and truck about twenty feet away, hidden in shadow. He leaned back against the car, nodding at Jackson when they appeared. The half-light of dusk colored his face grim before he darted away again.
They followed, racing across the opening, avoiding fleeing people who had realized too late there was no safety in following orders and remaining in their cars.
In front of her, a man wearing black and grey lunged to grapple with a fleeing caravaner, likely a truck tech from his rough, stained clothing. He gripped the back of the man’s collar and dragged him screaming back. The tech got in a kick and two blows before his attacker’s knife took him across the throat. The man gurgled and flopped over to try and crawl away, arterial blood spraying out before him into the dirt.
The agent, face set and focused in a familiar expression, already rose. He went in search of his next victim, even as Jackson pulled her away behind the attacker.
Was this the same horror Jackson felt earlier?
“Lena, come on!” He jerked at her hand again, pulling her with him toward the shelter of another car. They moved along the side of it, fast, before he pulled up shy of the end. He released her hand to grip her shoulder, exerting pressure to force her down behind a tire. She leaned her face out around the tire, trying to catch some glimpse of Alex ahead of them. Why were they stopping?
A movement from beneath the car flashed in her peripheral vision.
A boy cowered beneath it. Dirt clung to the silent tears and mucous flowing down his muddy, contorted face. He looked frantically around, trying to figure out which way to go. His enormous eyes reminded her of Marissa.
Lena dropped to her belly and squeezed under the car, reaching for the boy. He scrambled away, back and sideways.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.”
The boy scrambled back farther, terrified.
“No, no, it’s okay. You can come with us. You’ll be safe.” She lunged forward to grip his wrist before he could reveal himself by crawling back out of the shelter of the car on the other side. His thin, muddy wrist slipped through her fingers. Hissing with frustration and fear, she went after him.
He rolled out, stopped, stared up for a second, and then scrambled to his feet and ran away. Lena crawled to the edge to run after him. She froze when a pair of men’s boots stepped from behind the tire on the other side of the car.
A man dropped down to look under the car. He wore black and grey.
He lashed out with the club in his hand, smashing it into her forehead.
Darkness and pain warred with blurred vision. She tried to focus through a wash of involuntary tears as he grabbed her under the arms and pulled her from beneath the car.
He slid his hand into her hair, gripping it and holding her head firmly in place.
Did he have a collar in his free hand?
She had to focus, to talk to the Dust. Stop him. End him! Her brain tried to swim to black, but she fought it. She reached up, clawed at his face, his eyes. As soon as her fingers made contact, the Dust responded. He fell, heart stopped, dead already. She didn’t even know what had happened to him.
The Dust had chosen.
She fell to one knee and slumped against the side of the car. Through the darkness, as if from very far away, she could hear Jackson call out, searching for her on the other side.
“I’m here.” The words were almost inaudible even to her own ears. She pressed her hand to her forehead. Pain seared at her touch. The torn skin peeled away from a lump already firming. Her hand came away bloody. She pushed herself to a stand. She had to get back to Jackson.
Movement in the tree line a hundred feet away caught her attention. A blond man, tall and thin, hurried into the trees. Recognition zinged through her. Rage roared after it.
Lucas.
Her legs jerked into motion, running after the man who’d tortured her. She didn’t even look back until she made the trees herself.
She wasn’t sure if the falling night or the pain spreading from within her head made the caravan darken behind her. Cars burned bright in the closing black, brilliant points that made her eyes swim. She blinked. No pain. No pain.
Jackson tore through the center of the caravan after her.
A faint shout sounded behind him. Alex pursued them, as well, shooting every man in grey and black along the way, leaving splashes of blood behind him. Apparently subterfuge wasn’t a priority anymore.
Was that croaking sound her voice? It didn’t matter whether they heard her calling them. The dark beneath the trees would hide her from them if she went in after Lucas.