Page 22 of Trigger Discipline
His mother was devastated when he dropped out of college to pursue a career in EMS, but he had never regretted it.
If he’d been a doctor like she wanted, he might have been in that hospital. And he would be dead.
Blake shook his head and tried not to think about it or his parents.
Instead, he stared at Gabriel’s back and tried to step where he did. Tried to move as quietly as he did. It was impressive for a man as loaded down with gear as he was. But he moved fluidly, body comfortable with the weight it was carrying.
Maybe that’s why he’d volunteered to come with him. Because Gabriel seemed so honest. His body language was clear and concise. Oh, he was hiding something. It was obvious in the way he glanced off to the side. The sighs he let out when he didn’t think anyone was within earshot.
But that wasn’t a lie. It was private. Something he didn’t want the world to know. It was different in a way Blake couldn’t articulate.
Gabriel ducked into a doorway to check his map. Blake took a minute to uncap a bottle of water and took a swig. He offered the bottle to the soldier, and he drank deeply.Blake watched his prominent Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.
“About a mile,” he said unprompted, when he handed the bottle back. “If we don’t have any detours.”
They set off again just as twilight was beginning to fall. Blake was left wondering if they shouldn’t have waited until sunrise or if the night would help conceal them. What were the chances the aliens were night-blind?
He was easing past a crushed dumpster when he heard it. A whining whistle punctuated by scrambled clicks. It sounded kind of like dolphins. Like the little popping snaps of echolocation. Turning, he cocked his head to follow the noise.
The street dumped them out into a small lane behind some residences. It looked like a communal driveway, so people didn’t have to park on the street. The houses here were in relatively good condition. Gabriel picked up the pace, knees bent, his gun held out in front of him. They rounded a corner when they saw something fly past.
Blake followed the shiny sphere with his eyes. It zipped past, hovering ten feet above the ground.
There was no obvious means of propulsion, yet the ball had no trouble. Without any wings or sails, it clearly wasn’t following air currents. No, it was moving under its own steam. Yet its dark surface was flawless. Not a seam or rivet in sight.
He was studying the sphere when he was suddenly grabbed and slammed against a doorway. Before he could open his mouth, a thick gloved hand clamped over his lips.
“Shhh,” Gabriel’s low voice hissed in his ear, breath warm.
Blake froze. Gabriel was pressed against him, a firm hand over his mouth, the other braced, forearm pressed to the door to hold them both flat.
He could hear the clicks getting louder – he panicked.Wriggling in his hold. Trying to see. But Gabriel's knees pushed into his thighs. Blake's balance was removed. His fingernails clawed at his thick arm. He gnawed at the hand covering his mouth. The leather too thick to be effective. Sweat and gunpowder filled his mouth. Then the hand in the glove flexed, bare fingertips brushed against his cheek, strangely comforting.
Between his harsh breaths, he heard a new clicking whine. Something boomed, the vibrations rattling under the soles of his feet. He stopped trying to move, staring at the chipped paint of the door in front of him. Sweat pricked on his face where Gabriel’s glove pressed against his face. He could feel tiny bits of gravel and grit digging into his skin whenever they moved.
Slowly, Blake shifted his head just enough to see the street out of the corner of his eye.
Four legs stepped into view. Dark metal forged into seamless curves. Two razor-sharp pinchers snapping, punctuated by a trilling clicking. As the thing walked, its clawed feet dug into the asphalt, scraping with faint sparks. Occasionally the swiveling head chittered as it rammed into a car or fence, knocking it down like a game. The pinchers chattering excitedly as a car flipped three times, crashing into a garage door.
The alien jumped onto the garage door, leaping on the fiberglass and trilling louder as it clattered and bent. The door was shredded in seconds.
Blake began to shake. He couldn’t help it. That thing was…playing. It was playing with a garage door as it patrolled around looking for people to murder. And they’d just about walked right into it.
His mouth was soaked from his attempts to bite through the glove on his hand. Swallowing, he tried to follow the alien’s journey down the road, but Gabriel was blocking him. All he could see of him was his black sleeve and a bit of shoulder.
Blind, he tried to listen for more clicking. He couldn’t hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears and the steadythump-thumpof his heart.
Wait.
His pulse was going a mile a minute. He couldfeelit. The steady heartbeat was from Gabriel. His breathing was even, his body still. Now that Blake was focusing, he could smell sweat. He was unbearably warm and as hard as steel as he pressed every inch of his body against Blake, completely covering him—to keep him still or hidden, he didn’t know. He felt small but not vulnerable. His hands were still trembling, and he wasn’t sure why. Blake’s stomach swooped.
The fingers over his mouth wiggled, gently peeling away from his lips as if he wasn’t sure if Blake would scream or not. He took a deep breath, falling forward against the door as the arm around him retreated. He felt cold and unsteady without the solid weight at his back.
“Are you ok?”
Blake nearly wheezed with how ridiculous the question was.Was he all right?He just saw a fucking extraterrestrial bat around a garage door like a cat with a mouse.
He gave a weak thumbs up, and they continued on.