Jaysynn was frozen, staring. He could not look away from the pile of burning rubble that was once the Emperor’s Palace—his home. This can’t be real, he thought. This is a nightmare. I just need to wake up. The smoke stinging his unblinking eyes burned the undeniable reality into him.
Slowly, the swirling noise around him broke through his seemingly deaf ears. He heard Dracon barking orders to his men to find a working vehicle so they could transport the prince to the secure bunker. The shouts of the crowd that had converged on the Palace gates were strangely absent. Had they retreated?
“Jaysynn!” shouted Dracon, grabbing the young man’s shoulder and jolting him back to reality.
The prince glanced over his shoulder at the general.
“We must get moving!” Dracon added.
Jaysynn nodded.
Adrenaline propelling his burning muscles, Jaysynn ran after Dracon through the now open Palace gates. Battered soldiers surrounded them. The distant screams and explosions droned in his ears. Where once a crowd swarmed was a street with wrecked cars strewn about. Had the soldiers somehow driven them away? Jaysynn had not heard any laser blasts from magic-powered rifles. Only a few even carried rifles. Maybe the destruction of the Palace terrified them?
Within seconds, none of that mattered.
“Sergeant Elrik!” called Dracon, pointing at an officer.
“Sir!”
“Project a shield around the prince. Maintain it until we reach the bunker.”
“Yessir!”
Elrik stepped Jaysynn while Dracon dispensed orders to the rest of the troops. Jaysynn recognized the dark-haired officer. He had once served as Shar’s bodyguard, before the prince arrogantly refused any protection.
Elrik stood in front of Jaysynn and held out his hands as if he was trying to push him back, his eyes focusing intently at the prince. Nothing. The officer’s fingers flicked and his arm muscles tensed. Still nothing. Frustration contorted his face. Jaysynn’s eyes widened as fear and confusion beset him.
Elrik lowered his arms and stared at his hands. “General Dracon, sir!”
“What is it, sergeant?” replied the general, walking up behind him.
“Sir, I…can’t do it.”
“Can’t do what?”
“Make a forcefield.” He turned to Dracon. “My power…it’s gone!”
The general clenched his fist and pounded the hood of a car next to him.
Just then, a sputtering truck crawled up to them. A soldier stuck his head out of the window to address the general. “This is the only working vehicle we could find, and its battery is about to die.”
“We only need to get to a u-train station a few miles down the street,” said Dracon. “The entrance to the bunker is in the tunnel.” He then called out the names of six soldiers, including Elrik, to accompany him and Jaysynn. The rest were to quell the chaos in any way possible. “Move!” he ordered.
Jaysynn, Dracon, and the six soldiers—who were all carrying guns—clambered into the truck’s big cargo bed. The rest of the soldiers scrambled.
“Go!” ordered Dracon.
The truck sputtered as it lurched forward. Dracon made Jaysynn crouch in the center of the truck bed while the soldiers surrounded him, brandishing guns that looked like they had been haphazardly pieced back together. Other guns had power packs that were not lit up.
Why are they using broken and depleted weapons? thought Jaysynn.
The prince felt the truck wind its way around overturned cars. He glanced up periodically. Skyscrapers still defiantly standing tall were soon on either side of them. The clamor of the crowds intensified. Dracon and his soldiers shouted at people to get out of the way. Those people shouted demands for the truck. The soldiers yelled threats at panicking citizens to keep them from attacking the truck. The soldiers pistol-whipped the desperate ones who did not listen to their warnings. Curses filled the air. Jaysynn imagined children and wives surrounded the men who now lay on the ground with bloodied and broken noses.
Never once did any soldier fire his weapon.
The crowds shouted louder. The soldiers tried to yell over them. The truck stopped. Jaysynn lifted his head to look around, but Dracon pushed it down and ordered him to stay down. But even from his crouched position, the prince could see that hordes of people were surrounding them.
“Back off or I’ll shoot!”
A babble of shouts bombarded them.
“Go ahead!”
“I don’t care!”
“Just give us the truck!”
“I’d rather die!”
“I know the guns don’t work!”
Metal smashed against bone. Hands clawed at the soldiers. More curses. The stench of body odor. The truck gasped through its exhaust pipe. The driver looked back at them through the rear windshield and shouted, “The battery’s dead!”
Dracon and the soldiers shouted that news to the crowd, but not only did they not believe them, it fueled their blind rage. A deafening roar surrounded the truck. Sweat dripped from Jaysynn’s face and pooled on the truck bed. He wanted to shout something at Dracon, but he couldn’t hear his own thoughts. He heard rocks hiss by his ears. They pelted the truck. The soldiers groaned in pain.
Elthor, don’t let me die!
Suddenly, a shadow was cast over them.
Silence.
A loud creak.
They looked up—the 50-story skyscraper to their right was leaning over them. Was something leaning against it? The creaking was replaced by a loud crash. The building snapped ten storeys up. It smashed against the skyscraper across from it like a giant domino.
Panic.
Thyrian citizens fled.
“RUN!” shouted Dracon.
Everyone abandoned the truck and dove into the rushing river of frenzied people.
Glass shards fell like rain. Furniture crashed like meteorites. Bodies—living bodies—flailed and screamed in mid-air.
Jaysynn had no room to bob and weave. He could only run forward. If he stopped or tripped, he would be trampled. As the hailing debris fell, Jaysynn shielded himself with his arms, but the glass cut through his shirt, piercing his skin, and broken mortar and metal pelted him. Blood soaked his clothes. Bruises formed across his body. Larger debris thundered as it impacted around him. People vanished under it. Glass crunched under his shoes. He jumped over bodies. The shadow’s edge was ahead, but it seemed to be miles away. Jaysynn could not let himself feel pain or pity. Both would halt him. Both would kill him. He kept running.
Running.
Running.
Praying.
Running.
Sunlight suddenly beat down on Jaysynn’s bruised face. He was out from under the building! But he couldn’t stop. Not now.
Ten strides later, thunder roared behind him. A wave of black dust hit the back of his body. Jaysynn staggered, nearly stumbling over the debris. Some people around him fell. They screamed as they were trampled. The sooty air choked him. Grit caked the inside of his mouth and clouded his eyes. He blinked; he rubbed his eyes. Blindness equaled death.
Clearing the grit, he caught a glimpse of a staircase to his right that descended to a u-train station. Jaysynn veered sideways, pushing people out of his way and crossing two traffic lanes. Some shoved him back. He slowed to let them pass and kept veering. Nobody else was running toward it. Why? Where are Dracon and the soldiers?
The questions would have to wait.
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