Adrastia (The God Chronicles Book 4) (6 page)

"How did the kids get out of there?" I asked as we hurried down the hall, rubbing sanitizer on our hands and grabbing gloves out of the several boxes sitting everywhere.

"Some guy pulled them out," he said, pulling a cart loaded with bandages and other supplies from against the wall and bringing it with us.

"Russian?" I questioned, curiosity getting the better of me.

"No."

"There were Ukrainians this far north and they weren't doing the fighting?" I inquired in surprise.

"No," he chuckled, his own surprise sounding through it. "He's Italian."

"Italian?" My eyebrows felt like they'd raised almost into my hairline. "What on earth is he doing here? Surely he knows not to come on vacation with the way things are. And I thought Russia had burned every bridge that ever existed with Italy."

"I have no idea," Dimitri said, shrugging. "You can ask him yourself, though. He got a pretty nasty wound and is waiting in the same area the kids are."

"Okay," I sighed. "Are there more coming in who were part of the actual attack?"

"Some are already here," he said, nodding off in another direction. "We're to get down there as soon as we're done with this."

"We better get moving then," I said, a large grin overtaking my face.

We rounded the corner and entered into one of the classrooms, maneuvering around the paper curtain screens that had been set up to maintain some semblance of privacy.

"I'll take care of the kids while you help the Italian," Dimitri said, motioning to the other side of the room.

I crossed the space, moving the thin shoji screen and pulling it shut behind me once I was on the other side.

"Okay," I said, turning around and smiling at the man standing next the chair.

He smiled in return, his white teeth helping to accentuate his tan skin. A handsome face was framed by chin length black hair. While he wore a simple outfit, jeans and a long sleeve shirt, I could tell he worked out often. It wasn't surprising he'd been able to pull off saving two children from a fire fight.

"Can you tell me what happened, Mr. . . ."

"Arsenio," he said warmly, standing up and bowing his head to me. "I was walking down the road, saw the fighting and the kids hiding in the trees. I did what anyone else would have done and got them out of there."

"Was anyone shot?" I asked, motioning for him to sit down so I could examine him.

"Just me," he laughed. "But they were pretty scratched up. I think the little one probably got grazed."

"Well, you're a hero, Mr. Arsenio," I said, gently touching around the hole in his right shoulder.

"Just Arsenio," he said, wincing as I began examining the actual punctured area.

"You're from Italy?" I asked, trying to get his mind off the pain.

"Yeah. I haven't spent a lot of time there."

"I was going to say you don't have much of an accent. Excuse me for a second."

Turning back around, I slipped onto the other side of the screen and grabbed up what I would need from the cart Dimitri had brought in.

"Lucky for you, the bullet went straight through," I said once I was back with Arsenio. "Digging it out would have been very painful since I don't have any of the good drugs."

"Great," he laughed, wincing slightly as his shoulder moved.

"However," I continued. "You're still going to be in a lot of pain. I'm going to clean it out and pack it the best I can from both sides. Once that's done, I'll wrap it as good as we can get it. That should hold you until you can get clearance to be moved into the hospital further in the city."

"Thanks," he said, his comforting grin surfacing again.

"I was able to look at it with your shirt on because it got ripped pretty good, but I'm going to have to cut it now. I'll try and keep it to where you can still wear it, so you don't freeze to death when they move you."

I set to work laying everything out, making sure to keep things that were sterilized in their wrappers until I was ready for them. Finally, I pulled my old gloves off, applying more hand sanitizer before donning another pair.

"What's your name?" he asked as I picked up the scissors and started working on cutting just the shoulder and sleeve out of his shirt.

"Avalon," I said, doing my best to not make him uncomfortable as I worked.

"That's pretty," he said, doing a good job of hiding any discomfort he was feeling.

"Are you traveling alone?" I asked, finishing the task and setting to work on sterilizing his wound.

"No," he grunted as I poured some liquid over the opening on both sides. "I'm with a friend."

"Is he here, too?"

"No. He was already in the city. Probably wondering where I am about now."

He laughed weakly, his knuckles turning white as his hands balled into fists.

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "I'm trying to be as quick as I can. I would have offered you pain meds, but all I have is some extra strength Tylenol. We've been getting wiped out with all of the fighting."

He remained silent, staring at one spot on the floor as I worked. It was probably how he was managing his pain. I was sure getting shot had hurt much worse than this, but it'd only lasted for a few seconds, if that.

"Where do you spend your time?" I asked, trying to distract him again.

"Huh?"

"You said you didn't spend much time in Italy. Where do you spend it?"

"Greece," he said through gritted teeth.

"Is that where you got some of these scars?" I asked, looking over the five I could see. They looked like cuts as far as I could tell. Maybe he was a cliff diver and got cut on rocks a lot?

"Some of them, yeah," he laughed. "I'm a bit of a fighter."

"How ironic," I laughed. "You saved the kids instead of jumping into the action."

"Like I said, anyone else would have done it, too."

I was almost done patching him up, trying to listen to what Dimitri was saying to the kids, when the hairs on the back of my neck suddenly stood up. Arsenio also seemed to feel whatever had suddenly invaded our presence, his eyes widening as he realized I was tuned into it.

"What—" I started to ask, fear suddenly making me feel sick to my stomach.

A large explosion rocked the room, cutting the question off before it even got the chance to leave my lips. 

Chapter Six

A scream tore from my throat as the outer brick wall caved in on us, dust filling the air and choking my lungs.

Arsenio, jumping up from the chair he'd been sitting in, grabbed me and shoved me under the desks lining the inside wall. He'd saved me from the majority of the damage, escaping with only a few cuts himself. The movement had torn his gunshot wound more, though, and blood was freely running down his skin.

Are you okay?" he asked, trying to wave the dust out of his face.

I nodded, gulping down the dirty air as my heart raced faster than a galloping horse.

"Dimitri?" I called out, not able to see the other side of the room.

"We're okay," he yelled back. "Just a little shaken up."

Soft crying from the children wafted through the mess, the only sound in the aftermath.

"Something is wrong," I whispered, mostly to myself. "Why aren't they still attacking?"

"Because it's not who you think it is," Arsenio replied grimly.

Another wave of fear overtook me, making me feel sick to my stomach, filling me with the undeniable urge to run.

"We have to get out of here," I said in a panic. "Right now."

Crawling out from under the desks, pushing aside some scattered bricks in the process, I coughed again, the air slowly clearing.

Across the room, I could see one of the wooden support beams had fallen in the blast, breaking through the wall and resting halfway in the next room. Thankfully, there hadn't been anyone in there. It was full of oxygen tanks, with only the ones that had been hit by the beam appearing to be damaged. There were hissing sounds coming from that area, which probably meant some of them had been busted open.

"Dimitri?" I asked, trying to find where they had taken cover since the beam was lying right where he and the kids had been.

"We're lucky that outside wall was made of brick," his voice said, no sign of the rest of him. "It wouldn't have given us any protection if it had been made of the same materials as the inside of the school."

"Where are you?" I asked hesitantly, turning back to the fallen beam.

The air was clearing quickly, revealing the two injured kids sitting next to the bent up cart of medical supplies.

"Dimitri?"

Getting down on my hands and knees, I started moving bricks away from the edge of the beam, knowing what I was going to find underneath them.

Dimitri's foot came out first and I dug faster, all the way until I hit the beam that had him trapped against the floor.

"I think my leg might be broken," he laughed as I peered over to the other side of the wood.

He was pinned under it, his leg and hip caught. He shook slightly, probably a sign of the shock his body was suffering.

"I'm going to get you out," I said reassuringly and meaning every word of it.

Standing back up, I looked over the mess, not knowing where to try and pick the beam up so he could get out. All the same, I slid my hands under it by his broken leg and strained to lift it just enough for him to wiggle out.

I tugged as hard as I could, but the beam didn't move. Trying again, I could feel the panic growing in me. The strange feeling I'd had right before the explosion was returning, the precursor to something very bad.

"Arsenio!" I called frantically. "Help me!"

Every nerve in my body was on high alert, fear washing over me in repeated waves. Looking back to my original patient, I could see him rummaging through his bag for something, a scared but determined look on his face.

Something told me there wasn't enough time to ask for help again. Even if there was, with his shoulder injury he wouldn't have been much help.

"Hang on, Dimitri," I said, hearing the hysteria in my voice.

"It's okay," he said, his own tone wavering, fear showing through the tough display he was putting on. "Someone will come to help."

"You're right," I said, feeling tears gathering in my eyes. "But I'm not going to stop trying."

Climbing over the beam, I got behind him and grabbed him under the arms.

"This is going to hurt," I apologized.

He nodded and I started pulling him back. He cried out in pain, his free foot pushing against the log as well.

Something metal made a clinking sound next to us, falling through the open wall right behind me.

"What was that?" Dimitri asked.

I looked back, my eyes straining to find the source of the sound.

"Oh my gosh," I said as my eyes landed on it.

I started pulling harder and faster, knowing there were only seconds left.

"What is it?" Dimitri asked, his calm facade finally breaking.

"It's a grenade."

The sobbed whisper broke my lips quickly, my frantic hands still desperately trying to free him. The kids sat next to us, hugging each other as they cried into their shirts. Across the room, Arsenio had pulled a bow and arrow from his bag somehow and was moving out the door, a hunting look contorting his features.

We were all going to die.

The explosion seemed to happen in slow motion, the oxygen tanks busting and adding fuel to the fire. Shrapnel flew in every direction, some of it stabbing me in the back before the force of the blast knocked me forward, back over the beam.

My head cracked against the floor, adding its own fireworks to the display swimming in my vision. All around me, the fire ate at the walls and anything else it could consume.

Slowly, I sat up in the flames, surprised to still be alive, especially with the metal shards lodged in my back. Maybe the others were just as lucky?

Without thinking further, I put my hands on the fiery beam and peered over at the three dead bodies on the other side. My brain couldn't comprehend they were real, burning in front of me, covered in the oxygen tanks that had killed them.

Dazed, I sat back down, leaning against the beam. Something was still wrong, though the feeling of foreboding had left me.

Why was I the only one who survived?

Raising a hand, intending to run it through my hair, I held it in front of my face, having finally found something to shock me back to the present.

I was on fire.

Literally, on fire. My skin, my clothes, my hair, everything. I was a human fire ball.

Another terrified scream ripped from my tender throat and I jumped to my feet, slapping open palms on my arms and legs repeatedly, trying to stop the flames.

As the first initial panic wore off, I slowed down, watching the fire that neither faded nor hurt me. Despite looking like a scene from a horror movie, there was absolutely no pain anywhere on my body, only an intense tingling. In fact, my skin wasn't even burning, remaining the same smooth, tan color it had always been. My clothes looked like I'd just bought them and my brown hair was resistant as well. There wasn't even a massive amount of heat washing over me.

"What is going on?" I said out loud, holding my arms out to look at them once more.

How long was this going to last?

Hungry flames still lapped at the fragile walls, eagerly eating away everything it could around me. The smell of burning flesh filled my nostrils and I cringed, not wanting to see what was happening to my friend.

Shock wound its way through my veins, my body not ready to move from the scene just yet. It occurred to me I should be looking for a way out, for Arsenio, for something that would put me out, but I couldn't move. Time was still standing still, keeping me in a state that shouldn't have even been possible.

"Well, how unexpected."

I spun around, looking at the figure in the flaming doorway.

Clad in armor I hadn't ever seen except for in movies and paintings of the middle ages, the man exuded pure dominance, standing tall and strong amid the destruction around us. Save the golden helmet on his head, everything he wore was a dark black, swallowing any light around him. Even his eyes were black, soulless orbs, making it impossible to tell if he was even looking at me.