Iyisha's POV
She stirred to the chaos of gunfire, waking to a harsh light that stabbed at her eyes and made her skull throb.
Adrenaline surged through her veins when she realized another engine had just roared nearby.
She looked around and did not know where they were. The place, which looks like a garage, around her was dim and cluttered, its concrete floor stained with oil and old blood.
She had been in and out of consciousness for days, and now her heart pounded too hard in her chest as she woke to a strange garage filled with echoes of gunfire.
Fear clawed higher as she realized she was in a new place under attack. Sitting up made her light-headed, and a sharp pain ran through her hand.
She looked down and saw an IV line taped into her arm.
Her eyes searched until they found Malcolm, his expression serious as he paced inside, his gold-etched gun steady in his hand.
"Mal..." she muttered, but the dryness of her throat turned it into a cough, the sound raw and weak.
"Easy," Malcolm said as he saw her sitting up.
He held her against his chest, one arm firm across her torso. She felt the thud of his heart against her shoulder.
"We need to get out of here," Malcolm muttered.
"Where are we?" she asked, eyes searching the dim garage.
"We are in the freezone," he answered.
She froze.
"Did someone attack?" she mumbled.
He gave a grim nod.
"Can you stand?"
"I think I can," she whispered weakly.
They quickly gathered what they could. Malcolm pulled the pin from her vein, freeing the IV line, then helped her onto the ATV.
She looked back one last time and saw the garage door bent on the street as if it was pulled from the outside. It was dawn already, but the place still looked eerie, and she could not imagine how it had felt in the dark of night.
"Sleep," he muttered as they sped up on the highway. "You are still too weak."
She nodded, her eyelids heavy as stone.
The next time she woke, shade covered her. The ATV was idling, hidden beneath the gray ribs of a bridge. Weeds pushed through the cracked concrete, dripping rainwater pooling in old bottles.
"Water." Malcolm tilted a bottle to her lips. The taste was warm plastic and iron. She swallowed until it scraped her throat raw.
Her eyes flicked to him. "Safe here?"
"For now."
But his gaze was already moving, counting shadows. His hand never left the gun.
When he turned back to her, his expression changed. Harder. He slid his hand under her arm and tore at the tape there.
"Wait—"
The bandage peeled back and air hit her shoulder like fire. She cried out. Thin red streaks crawled up toward her collarbone like veins of fire. The center glistened wet, yellow pus seeping into the cloth.
Her stomach lurched and she recoiled, gagging as the sour smell hit her nose. She nearly vomited at the sight.
She knew enough to know what it meant. Dangerous.
Malcolm's jaw clenched as he tore the bandage away. His voice dropped, dark and venomous.
"That bastard… Quack pills, worthless trash dressed up as pills."
Iyisha coughed a weak laugh despite the pain. She remembered him forcing a pill on her mouth.
"Maybe he just gave us something expired… or any white powder he could find."
Malcolm tore a strip of cloth from the pack and pressed it against her shoulder, binding it tight with practiced hands.
The sudden pressure made Iyisha cry out, tears stinging her eyes. The sting of fresh fabric against raw flesh burned, her breath breaking into ragged gasps.
She clutched at his arm, knuckles white, forcing herself not to pull away even as the pain threatened to overwhelm her.
"Malcolm…" she gasped. "Is there a safe zone near?"
He didn't answer right away. His jaw worked, muscle ticking.
"There's supposed to be a medical school somewhere. Jacksonville side. But I don't know where exactly."
She smiled faintly, though her lips trembled.
"If we don't find it soon, I know what happens to me."
That broke something in him. His eyes snapped up, gold catching the dim light, jaw tightening.
"Don't," he muttered.
"Don't what?"
"Don't thank me like it's already over."
His anger pressed against her more than his hands did.
She turned away, throat tight. Her eye misty.
The fever burned, the silence heavier than the bridge above them.
They rode through the dark until the engine sputtered low.
Iyisha drifted in and out, fever twisting her dreams.
Then the ATV jerked sideways. She startled awake, her head slamming against Malcolm's chest.
He killed the engine. Darkness swallowed them.
His hand pressed over her mouth before she could speak. "Quiet."
Light flickered through the trees, the cold beam of flashlights slicing across trunks and weeds. Boots crunched on leaves, steady, methodical.
Iyisha's heart hammered against his palm. She strained to breathe, every inhale burning her lungs.
Figures appeared between the trees, their shapes breaking the darkness. At least six of them, rifles slung, branches tied to their heads, faces streaked with shadow.
Malcolm stayed frozen, his other hand tight on the gun, his body shielding hers against the ATV frame.
The beams swung past them, white light grazing bark only feet away. One flashlight paused, the edge of its glow brushing Malcolm's shoulder, then sliding over Iyisha's pale face.
She almost whimpered, but Malcolm pressed his palm harder against her mouth. One of the men stopped, head tilting as if listening, the silence between them stretched razor thin. Then his boots moved again, crunching forward.
Minutes dragged like hours until, finally, the lights shifted away. The men passed. Their footsteps faded.
Only when the silence grew thick again did Malcolm ease his hand from her mouth. He leaned close, whisper sharp against her ear.
"Hold on."
The ATV roared to life reversing down the slope to lose the trail.
Her stomach dropped as the wheels jolted over roots and stones. Pain throbbed in her shoulder with every bump, sharp and deep, making her vision swim. She clung to him, weak, the fever a fire in her veins.
"Where are we?" she asked.
His eyes stayed on the darkening path. It felt as though they had been traveling the whole day.
"Jacksonville," he said.
A bit farther ahead she could see the faint line of a highway cutting through the trees.
Malcolm stopped the ATV as another blinding light focused on them. Iyisha's breath caught.
"Malcolm…" she whispered, fear thick in her throat.
They could not turn back, the hill behind was too steep, and the men crowded the only path ahead. She clutched at his arm, her heart pounding.
From the opposite side of the forest, men stepped out with their rifles already raised.
Malcolm's jaw locked. The trap had closed.
Voices cut through the dark, speaking fast in a language Iyisha did not understand. Words sharp and clipped, almost like commands.
She froze, heart hammering, catching fragments that meant nothing to her. Malcolm's eyes narrowed as he listened, but his gun never lowered.
"Hands up!"
Another muttered something harsher, laughter following in a tongue foreign to her ears.
Iyisha's body trembled as she tried to raise her arm, but pain from her shoulder forced it only halfway.
The men barked sharp words she didn't understand, laughter jagged and cruel.
Then Malcolm spoke. His voice was low, deliberate, each syllable heavy."Kailangan… tulong. Gunshot."
Iyisha blinked. The syllables were strange on his tongue, guttural and heavy. She couldn't place them, but the men could and they laughed, sharp and cruel.
Did he know how to speak their language?
The men stilled, then jeered louder, some repeating his words back with mocking tones.
One spat at the ground. Another muttered fast in the same tongue, and the rest howled.
Another raised his rifle, the barrel stopping inches from Iyisha's wounded shoulder.
He muttered something harsh, and the group laughed, the sound jagged and cruel.
She didn't need to know the language to understand that they were mocking.
An older man stepped forward, his words rolling in the same foreign tongue.
"Stationed at Subic," Malcolm answered.
The men exchanged looks, some straightening with a kind of wary respect at the mention.
"Ester!" the old man barked.
The forest itself seemed to hush.
A woman stepped out from behind the men, boots sinking soundless into the soil. The group straightened as if pulled by strings, rifles lowering in unison. Her face was streaked black, branches woven into her hair like a crown of thorns.
Her eyes found Iyisha. Cold. Assessing. Deciding.