Jet and Red knew they were getting closer to the scene of the blast, purely from the thickness of the clouds of dust hanging in the air and even the cloth tied over their noses and mouths couldn’t prevent what seemed like a choking wall of floating debris from causing them to cough painfully as they picked their way carefully through the corridors.

“Kobra?” Red called with urgency and panic in her voice. “Party? Ghoul?”
“Anyone!” Jet yelled, desperate to hear a voice or some sign of movement.

Hearing a sound of shifting debris, Jet’s heart leapt but almost immediately he realised the sound had come from behind them. Turning to look back down the corridor, he expected to see some loose debris toppling but was instead surprised to see Dr Fielding edging her way towards them.

“You’re coming back to help?” Jet raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“If it hadn’t been for Party, I’d still be at BLI.”
“You’d still have a job, a life and nice things,” Jet replied without judgement.
“Yeah, a job that had me torturing people instead of helping them. BLI had me convinced that what we were doing was right. Party changed that, I owe him this.”

Jet smiled as he reached out a hand to help Fielding over a large pile of debris.

“He has a way of making people see things his way.”
“He’s got a talent for speaking with passion. He could have been a politician,” Fielding nodded.
“He’s not a good enough liar,” Jet smirked.

Whilst Better Living Industries was essentially a large corporation, one of the largest in Battery City, somehow they had adopted a quasi-governmental status. Although none of the executives were politicians, to the best of his knowledge at any rate, he knew better than most the level and quantity of lies that BLI fed to the people on a daily basis. In this tired and broken world, they had become the equivalent of politicians, or more realistically - dictators, and they lied to keep control. In fact, they lied almost exclusively; Jet couldn’t recall the last truthful piece of information he had heard from BLI. The scariest part was that the majority of people seemed to believe them. Was it all down to the drugs?

“Any sign?” Fielding asked as she joined Jet, pulling him from his reverie.
“Not yet,” he frowned.

Almost as he spoke the words, he saw Red jumping quickly over some more debris and scrambling forward.

“Kobra!” She called excitedly.

She had seen nothing but a flash of red in the rubble, but was desperate enough to make the leap of faith. Kneeling in the wreckage, Red began lifting chunks of concrete and throwing them towards the wall, all the while hoping that she wasn’t throwing them on top of someone else. In moments, Jet and Fielding were at her side, moving debris and uncovering the slender young man in the red leather jacket, his face covered in an eerie layer of plaster dust making him appear like a fallen statue in garish clothes.

“Kobra!” Red pleaded, shaking him. “Come on! Wake up!”
“Is he...”

Jet frowned; he didn’t want to say the words, instead he offered a hopeful glance toward Fielding. Leaning forward, the doctor placed two fingers on Kobra’s neck, feeling for a pulse. Within moments she was nodding happily.

“He’s got a strong pulse,” she confirmed, much to Jet’s relief.
“You hear that, damn it?” Red continued to rail at Kobra. “Wake up!”
“What? No kiss?” He answered with a dry, rasping voice, his eyes still closed, but the light crinkles around them showed he was trying hard not to laugh.
“You’re not Sleeping Fucking Beauty!”

Red glowered; filled with mixed emotions. Ecstatic that he was alive and well, but at the same time wanting very much to slap his face for scaring her. Kobra opened his eyes and smirked.

“But I have just literally woken up,” he offered in a conciliatory tone on seeing her expression. “I didn’t mean to scare you. How’re Party and Ghoul?”
“We haven’t found them yet,” Red’s voice grew suddenly somber and Kobra’s eyes widened at the news.

Attempting to push himself upright, Kobra fell back almost immediately, his eyes rolling back in his distress.

“Mikey!” Red suddenly cried out, biting her lip as soon as the word left her mouth.
“You’re Mikey?” Fielding turned astonished eyes to the man lying groaning in front of her. “Gerard’s brother Mikey?”

Kobra turned a puzzled and suspicious frown toward her.

“Look, you’re hurt and you’re not going anywhere in a hurry.” She turned to Jet. “Find the others, I’ll look after him and explain.”

Jet nodded and got to his feet, helping Red up. She was reluctant to leave Kobra’s side, but went easily, aware that she was needed elsewhere. As they turned, a small pile of rubble moved, with pieces of concrete rolling to the side revealing a hand clawing at the air. At the wrist, they could see the edge of a bright blue cuff.

“Party!” Jet called, elated to find another of their friends at the very least alive.

Under the pile of chunks of wall, ceiling and twisted, almost unrecognisable equipment, Party was trying hard to stand. At first it had just been his hand making a bid for freedom, but it was soon followed by a pair of shoulders and a mess of what had once been fiery red hair, but was now so coated in dust, it could have been grey, possibly tipped with pink.

“Mikey,” he croaked, coughing immediately as dust caught in his throat.

Jet and Red were by his side in seconds, but as they uncovered his left arm, Jet gasped at the sight of his sleeve soaked with blood.

“Doctor!” He called. “Party’s bleeding.”

Having established that Kobra had no serious injuries that some water a little rest wouldn’t resolve, Fielding felt happy to move over to Party’s side immediately. Helping Jet and Red with the still disorientated Party’s jacket, each of them frowned deeply when its removal revealed no damage to Party’s arm or side. It was a few moments before the reality of the situation occurred to them.

“Ghoul!” Jet cried, alarmed.

Immediately Jet began to dig to Party’s left, throwing even the heaviest chunks of debris aside with what appeared to be minimal effort. Under a large slab, Jet could see a bloodstained mustard coloured sleeve. “He’s here,” he choked out as his digging grew ever more frantic. Red and Fielding, already at his side were pushing rubble away at pace, even Party, who wasn’t even certain who they were looking for was helping at the same frenetic speed as everyone else.

Finally, the source of the blood was uncovered - a spike of metal, from what looked like a chair leg, had pierced Ghoul’s side. Party’s eyes widened at the shock of the scene and reached forward to remove it, only to be pulled back by Jet as Fielding shouted.

“No! Leave it, it’ll be worse if you removed it,” she explained.

Party looked up, glassy-eyed, almost tearful.

“B-but... Ghoul? He... he’ll be okay, won’t he?”

All eyes fell on the red-haired man as he continued to scramble at the debris around his stricken friend.

“Party?” Jet ventured.
“What?” He asked in reply, uncertain why everyone had stopped digging. “He... he’s not...?”

Fielding was already taking Ghoul’s pulse, and nodding.

“It’s there and surprisingly strong. We need to get him to an operating room.” She quickly looked around and spying what remained of a metal door lying in the wreckage, she pointed. “We can use that as a stretcher. Can you look after Mikey?” She asked Red, getting a quick nod in reply.
“Mikey?” Party jerked his head to look at Fielding. “Kobra? Where is he? Is he okay?”
“I’m fine, Party!” Kobra called as he pushed himself upright once more, but still felt too ill to do much more. “Just a bit dizzy, that’s all.”
“I need you to help Jet with Ghoul, can you do that?” She asked Party gently.
“Of course I can,” Party frowned at the question. “I’m not ten, you know!”
“No,” Fielding smiled at Party’s deepening frown as both Jet and Red chuckled. “Of course.”

Fielding fetched the door as Party and Jet lifted Ghoul as gently as they were able, whilst carefully holding the spike in place so as to do no further damage. As they settled him on the door, they heard noises coming from the end of the corridor. Looking up they saw Harrison edging carefully around the corner.

“Chris!” Fielding called with relief. “Where’s the OR?”
“OR? We have a poorly equipped, basically sanitised room that we use,” he replied. “You’re in the Zones now, Chloe.”
“Where is it? She answered quickly.
“Back this way,” he signalled. It’s in the other building. It should still be intact.”
“Thank you,” she replied as the trio picked their way back through the wreckage, followed by Red supporting Kobra. “Why did you come after us?”
“Oh, yeah,” he shrugged. “We’ve seen a Crow Patrol in the distance. They look like they might be coming here. Dr Hawes is going to talk to them.”
“And say what?” Fielding asked, frowning with suspicion.
“That the Killjoys came here and must have planted a bomb that went off early.”
“He’ll know his android is destroyed,” Kobra put in. “They’ll search the place looking for us.”
“No,” Harrison shook his head. “We’ve hidden your car, he’s going to say that three of you got away with minor injuries.”
“They’re not going to believe that for a moment,” Kobra scoffed.
“He’ll do his best, in the meantime, I’m here to hide you all, and myself. There’s a black car; I think it’s Korse. Chlo, I can help you with him. You look like you could use another pair of hands.”

Fielding pulled her mouth into a thin line; she hadn’t wanted to let them know how badly Ghoul was hurt, but now they knew. But, she was grateful for the offer of assistance, it increased his chances.

“Thanks, Chris,” she nodded. “Lead the way.”

*

Standing in the middle of the road, Dr Hawes tried his best to ignore the debilitating heat of the afternoon sun, but he knew that the longer he remained there, the more it would work in his favour. He watched as the car and motorbikes approached. This was not his first encounter with draculoids but it would be his first with Exterminator Korse. He had heard multiple stories about him, not least of which were from the Killjoys themselves. He was intelligent, suspicious and probing, but Dr Hawes was no simpleton; he would hold his own with him. He had to for all their sakes. As the patrol approached, he began by waving them down; it was important to begin by giving the impression that he wanted them to stop.

Inside the car, Korse turned to the draculoid driving and pointed to the figure waving frantically at them.

“Do you know that man?” He asked, suspicious that someone would actively try to flag down a BLI patrol.
“No, sir,” the draculoid replied. “He looks like a doctor though. The hospital building has been damaged, probably by the self-destruction of the android; these are his last coordinates.”

Korse eyed the man thoughtfully, wondering what awaited them. Were the Killjoys there, waiting for them? The last report from the android had been the notice of self-destruction and that the Killjoys had been with him. Why he had chosen to do that was unclear, but Korse guessed that he had been found out much quicker than he had expected. He wondered, if they had been there, where were they now and what did this man want? Crucially, he was aware that the green porno droid being tracked was several miles ahead of them. What was going on?

“Pull in,” he ordered. “Be cautious, it may be a trap.”
“Yes, sir,” the draculoid responded. “I’ll advise the rest of the team.”

Korse nodded sternly as they pulled into the hospital parking lot. Exiting the car and covering his gun with his hand, ready to draw at a moment’s notice, Korse was surprised when immediately the doctor approached him; he seemed furious.

“You’re after the Killjoys?” He asked almost spitting the words in distaste. “Three of them left about ten minutes ago, not before destroying my hospital though!”
“What happened?” Korse asked, not fully accepting the doctor’s word; he could easily be a rebel collaborator.
“First of all, they turned up. They wanted one of them checked up on, I refused and they threatened me! In my own hospital!”
“Which one needed attention?” Korse asked.
“I don’t know, a tall, skinny guy with a red jacket. His arm was broken, or so they thought.”
“And was it?” Korse pressed, taking a few steps further toward the doctor; he looked haggard, tired and stressed.
“I don’t know!” He snapped back haughtily. “I’m not wasting my resources on rebels!”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Korse replied with a disturbing lack of accompanying emotion. “What happened to your hospital?”
“While they were here, a female doctor turns up with another one who looks exactly like the one with the red hair. I didn’t know what was going on! There’s a huge commotion and they’re running out of the building just before the whole lot comes down! But only three of them, one must still be in there. Planted a bomb or something but it went off too early. Just because I wouldn’t help them,” he growled bitterly. “Well, it serves them right if one of them is dead!”
“Where are they now?” Korse narrowed his eyes.
“I told you, they jumped in their car and left. They only had minor injuries, the other red-haired guy was driving, he was okay.”
“And the female doctor?” Korse asked.
“I didn’t see her leave, but her car’s gone, so I guess she left too.”
“Are any of your staff or patients hurt?” Korse tipped his head as he asked the question.
“Staff? I can’t afford many,” Hawes replied. “I keep this place going myself. We only have resources for outpatient facilities for two days a week. We’re closed today, so there are no staff or patients, just me. I live here too.”
“And they’ve destroyed your home too.” It was a statement rather than a question.
“Yeah,” Hawes snarled angrily. “Rebels! Isn’t it your job to keep us safe from scum like them?”
“BLI is making every effort, doctor,” Korse replied, somewhat taken aback as the doctor went on the offensive.
“Well, it’s not good enough! Where were you an hour ago? When they were here, before they destroyed my hospital! Where were you when they threatened me? How am I supposed to get this hospital up and running again?” Hawes demanded.
“BLI has a victim support department. You may take your claim to them.” Korse replied, his mind now focussing on possible routes that the escaping Killjoys may have taken. The last thing he needed was to have to report to the Director that he had lost them. “Have a better day.”

Turning, Korse quickly returned to the car and Hawes watched as the patrol moved on at speed down the long highway. He watched until they were mere dust swirls on the horizon. It was time to go back inside and check on the others; he still had no idea if anyone had survived.

Notes

Hope you enjoyed this latest chapter. Happy New Year, everyone!

All the best for 2018
Sas xx