Page 25 of Beast in the Badlands
EMRY
I follow the little girl into the med tent, heart racing. The sounds outside echo through the thin fabric—gunfire, shouting, chaos. Kira stands by the entrance, her weapon clutched tightly in trembling hands. Relief flashes across her face when she sees me.
"What's going on out there?" she asks, eyes wide and frantic.
I shake my head. "It isn't good." My throat tightens. "A squad from the Red Maw Syndicate is here."
Kira goes pale, and I can see the dread creeping in. She’s barely holding it together. I step closer, blocking her view of the tent entrance, forcing her to focus on me instead of the pandemonium beyond.
"Listen to me," I say, steadying my voice as best as I can. "We have to keep fighting. It's all we have left."
Her breath comes in short gasps as she processes my words, fear battling with determination in her eyes. I reach out, gripping her shoulder firmly—a gesture meant to anchor us both in this storm.
"Do you remember our last drill? How we worked together to set up triage?" I ask, pushing back against my own rising anxiety. “We can do it again.”
Kira nods slightly but still looks like a deer caught in headlights. I see that doubt clawing at her resolve; it’s the same fear that gnaws at my insides.
"Grab those supplies," I urge, gesturing toward the medical crates stacked haphazardly in one corner of the tent. “We need bandages and any morphine we have left.”
She hesitates for a heartbeat longer before darting toward the crates, fumbling through them with shaky hands. I turn my attention back to the little girl huddled beside me—a trembling bundle of fear wrapped tightly in a filthy blanket.
“Hey,” I crouch down so we're eye-level, forcing a smile despite the weight of dread pressing down on me. “You’re brave, right?”
She nods vigorously but keeps her eyes wide and wary.
“Good,” I say softly. “Just stay close to us.”
Kira returns with an armful of supplies just as another explosion rocks outside, shaking the very air around us. Dust filters through the seams of the tent fabric; it feels like time is running out.
I glance toward Kira and find her staring at me—her fear palpable but mingled with something else: determination igniting beneath that layer of terror.
"We won't let them take this place," she says quietly but firmly.
“No,” I agree, feeling that same fire ignite within me as well.
The world around me feels like it’s unraveling at the seams, each thread fraying under the relentless pressure of chaos.
Gunfire erupts once more, the sound reverberating through the air, sharper and closer now, and I can’t help but flinch involuntarily, my heart racing as adrenaline surges through my veins.
"Kira!" I shout, my voice slicing through the cacophony of noise that surrounds us. "Get ready! Protect the wounded!"
My words are a frantic plea, a desperate command laced with urgency. I can see her nodding, determination flickering in her eyes even as fear shadows her features.
The air thickens with an almost palpable tension, hanging heavy like a storm cloud ready to burst. I brace myself for the worst—death charging toward us, armed with brutality and an insatiable hunger, ready to consume everything in its path.
The thought sends a chill down my spine, and I push it aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.
But then, amidst the chaos, screams erupt around us. The unmistakable sound of battle draws nearer, each cry a reminder of the danger that looms just beyond the canvas walls of our makeshift refuge.
A low growl rolls in like thunder, deep and familiar, echoing through the very marrow of my bones.
It reverberates with an intensity that pulls me back to a moment where survival felt more than just instinct; it felt like something worth living for.
For a heartbeat, I close my eyes, letting the weight of the noise wash over me.
Then I whip around toward the entrance of the tent just as it bursts open.
There he is.
Renn.
He stumbles in, his form imposing yet battered.
His skin glistens with fresh blood, both his and that of his enemies—a dark pattern against his gray flesh that tells a story of violence and fury.
A weapon drags at his side, nearly out of ammo but hardly out of menace.
His muscles ripple beneath torn fabric as he forces himself forward, each step a laborious effort due to the limp that plagues him—a reminder of injuries sustained in battles past.
His face bears a mask of rage mixed with pain; sweat mingles with blood across his brow, highlighting every scar etched into his features. Those sharp teeth flash briefly as he grimaces against the agony shooting through him, but his eyes—those stormy depths—lock onto mine.
For one fleeting moment, everything else falls away—the gunfire fades to a dull thrum in the background, screams blur into white noise—and all I see is him.
Time halts between us; I forget about the world outside this makeshift sanctuary. He feels like a dream made flesh—an unyielding force amidst chaos.
Then gravity reasserts itself.
My knees buckle as relief crashes over me like a tidal wave. Before I can fully process what’s happening, he’s there—arms wrapping around me like steel bands.
“Took you long enough,” I mutter against his chest, surprise flooding my voice as I feel that familiar warmth enveloping me.
He holds me tighter, every bit of strength channeling into that embrace as if to shield me from all that could hurt us again. “Don’t ever leave like that again.”
His voice is low and fierce; it thrums against my skin like an electric current igniting every nerve ending within me. In this moment where fear meets vulnerability, something shifts between us—something more profound than survival or duty.
Kira appears behind us, wide-eyed and shaken but still standing firm with her rifle ready at her side. She takes in Renn's battered state—bloodied clothes hanging loose on his powerful frame—and her jaw drops slightly in disbelief.
“W-What do you want from us?” she gasps out.
“Nothing,” Renn growls out through clenched teeth while glancing back toward the entrance as if daring any foe to step inside this sanctuary we’ve built together amidst ruin.
Kira nods slowly but doesn’t take her eyes off him as if she can’t quite reconcile the sight before her: a Reaper emerging from hellfire.
She seems torn between fear and awe; even now when death lurks at our doorstep, hope flickers tenuously within her gaze—a fragile light ignited by his presence alone.
I lean against him slightly more than necessary—not just from exhaustion but because he grounds me amid this whirlwind of chaos that threatens to swallow us whole again.