The Law and the Codas

Chapter Eighteen

Della becomes a blur of limbs as she delegates orders to the mass of Codases huddled below the grate.

"Nose, Jensen," she yells, while simultaneously pushing Keran out from under the onslaught of blood. "Take a few stickies and blow that grate to fucking bits!"

The two men nod and sling their shoulder bags in front of their chests. They remove two black discs and, on tiptoes and with arms outstretched, adhere them to each side of the grate.

Della takes a long, hard look at her lieutenant and gives Keran's face a good wipe with the sleeve of her shirt. "Hey," she shakes the girl, slaps her cheeks.

Keran's eyes remain hinged on the grate and the moonlight pouring through the metallic slats. "They're all--" Another swell of blood rushes through the grate and splashes into the muck river.

"Fighting," Della says. With a delicacy I'd never witnessed before from Della, she touches Keran's chin and tilts her head upward. "We need to get up there fast and provide back up."

Keran nods slowly as each of Della's words seems to cut through the fog that had enveloped her mind. "Back up," she repeats.

Della smiles. "That's it kiddo. We'll fight whatever's up there and we'll win."

"Stickies ready to light up this birthday cake," Nose says.

With Keran in tow, Della sprints over to us and motions for us all to get down. I grimace at the warm sensation of sewer water rising over my knees.

"What's gon--"

"Light 'em up!" Della screams.

A flash of light erupts from the grate and a cloud of smoke rushes toward us. Dust coats my face, while a few particles manage to lodge themselves in my throat. Coughing, I wave an arm in front of my face, until I can see the sizzle of flame as it eats through the grate's metal bars. One, freshly wrenched loose, splashes into the water.

Della removes her gun and the small metal dot she'd used as a Comm earlier. She affixes it to her temple, taps it twice, and a thin, green line encases her irises.

"Night vision?" I say.

When she looks at me, her face is grim and paler than I've ever seen it. She takes out a second gun, one she had concealed under her shirt in a shoulder holster, and shoves it into my chest. "Whether or not you want to be a leader doesn't matter anymore," she says. Her hand pulls away, goes to her pocket, takes out a thin, metallic tube. She presses a button on the side, and a screen glows in that same green encircling her irises. Syncing, it reads. "You've decided to protect them, yes?"

Her eyes drift back to the grate. The second bar dangles precariously overhead. It was nearly eaten through. Fewer screams come from above. I look at the gun, trace my hand over it. I'd never expected it to feel so heavy, so sturdy, so absolute.

Della's gaze returns to me, and she must notice the shaking of my hands because she says, "Shaking's good. Means you're scared and you should be scared." She gives Keran a pat on the head, whispers something I can't make out, and puts a finger, steady and unwavering over the trigger. The metallic tube beeps and the screen reads, Syncing complete. Della grunts and shoves it into her pant's pocket, so just the tip sticks out. "Use that fear to guide your decisions and do what you can to live up to that promise." She sighs and a shadow falls across her face. "That's all a leader is. Someone who's just as scared as everyone else, who does what has to be done, and manages to walk away from a little less dead than everyone else."

As she makes to leave, I grab the back of her shirt. The last of the metal bars plunges into the water.

"Commander!" Nose yells. "Orders?"

Like swatting a fly, Della smacks my hand loose. "Smoke 'em out," she says "Got a boomstick ready," her gaze flicks to the metallic tube nestled in her pocket. "I lead, you follow. Kill anything that moves."

The men nod and ready their weapons.

Della scowls. "We're running low on time." She eyes my hand that still hangs in the space between us, my fingers grasping air.

I set my jaw. "What the hell's going on?"

She heaves a sigh. "El Accosta." Her gaze floats upward. "Don't know how they knew we'd be here, but they must have laid in wait for us. Shot down our retrieval team." She grits her teeth and her fingers clamp down on her gun. With all the force she's exerting, I'm surprised her nails haven't pierced the metal.

I gaze at her and the gun lying in my hand. The two don't seem to fit. My hand's too small or the gun's too big. Either way, it looks like I'm a kid playing at stuff far out of my league. "What can I do?"

She flicks my forehead. " You do what she did," she nods toward Rima. "Aim, shoot, and kill as many of those bastards as you can."

I nod as Della pulls away from my hold. Keran in hand, she returns to the men posted under the grate.

Sin's hand falls on my shoulder. "In solidarity," he says, and from his pant's pocket, he produces a small, metal fork.

I blink in astonishment. "Was that from--"

"The Facility?" he says, running a large finger over the fork's prongs. "Yeah. Figured it might come in handy."

"You want to bring a fork to a gunfight?"

He shrugs. "It's better than letting you die alone."

I frown and trace my finger along with the gun grip. "What encouraging words." My heartbeat kicks into overdrive. I very well may just die.

Jonathan stirs from behind Sin's back. He pushes forward, Marava's claws attempting to hold him back and stop him from being as equally stupid as Sin and myself.

"Mars," he growls. Anger traces trenches across his forehead. "Let go."

At his tone, Marava withers. Her shoulders hunch, her head droops. Even her hair seems to go limp. Marava stripped of her steely demeanor and her haughty attitude, emptied of her glares and spiteful comebacks should be a victory, but instead, I just feel bad, guilty even, as she slinks back into the darkness.

I smile weakly. "You got a fork too?"

Jonathan's shoulders relax, though his face remains stern. "Afraid not." He shrugs. "Left them in my other pair of borrowed pants."

From across the corridor, Della yells, "You ready?"

I turn, gun in hand, and nod. Then, I look back at the others. Leader, Della had said. Six pairs of eyes bore into my own. Rima's near tears. Sam's standing with his hand on her cheek ready to wipe them away when they fall. Marava's expressionless. David gives me a nod and allows that crooked smile of his to bloom across his face.

I hadn't wanted to lead anyone but Della and the Collective had blown about a bazillion bullet holes through my wishful thinking. Choosing to lead wasn't an option anymore.

I whip around toward David and shrug. "Guess now you've got to trust me."

A faint smile flickers across Della's face. I nod and inhale sharply.

"We're ready." Moonlight falls across my face. Smoke hovers in the air. Screams die out, become faint echoes among the din of nearby Sects. Had the police been called in? The Militia? I brace myself, place both hands on the gun grip. There was only one way to find out.

Della stretches, the metallic tube clutched in her hand. I look back at the others and spare them all one last smile.