A larger modified entrance loomed in front of them. It was the dining hall. The three quietly entered the calmness of the night dinner shift. From a high balcony, two deadly reports fired unexpectedly. Hit by both rounds, attractive Arrow fell in a bloody gush, struggling to reach her rockets, but it was too late for her. She died falling in a shower of bloody food and utensils.
“Military-style assassination,” whispered Eye, scanning for the blast’s source, “precision hit eliminated the bodyguard only. Anchor, is obviously not the mark. She must be some prize hostage material.”
SCARAB Soldiers began scrambling as more rounds of projectiles ripped through wood and flesh. The young woman Anchor, suddenly popped up, instantly healed and rejuvenated. She ducked under a chemplast tabletop. Eye followed her down on the floor. Somewhere in the background, an old jukebox played scratchy music.
“Spunky kid for just being in the grip of death,” yelled Eye over the din. He glanced over the table in hopes of glimpsing Arrow. She convulsed in a post-death spasm. Slithering on his back with weapon drawn, Eye succeeded in dragging the twitching Arrow back to their moderate safety.
“OK, Kid er Anchor. How’d you heal up so fast?” demanded Eye distrustfully.
“I never was wounded. Pigs blood. Old trick, see, like playing possum. We were chased. We needed in here bad. Really, I haven’t time for explanations,” said the blonde Anchor while sighing.
“Slick. But what are you really saying?” asked Eye.
Anchor guided his attention to Arrows red wounds. “Wish this were pigs blood. Remove everything binding her,” Anchor stated.
“Are you crazy? Strip a casualty under a table during a house battle?”
“Precisely. Arrow is dead from blood loss, tissue damage, and traumatic shock. Removing her clothing seems bizarre, even an insult to the dead, but it is urgent. I’ll explain later.”
Anchor fished around in her bulky apron pockets, gleefully finding her treasure.
“A wound compress- here push hard! With your other hand, smear this potion on every measure of her!”
“Anchor, you’ve got the wrong guy for this?”
“Eye, are you squeamish?” scolded Anchor while admiring him with grand gentle eyes, “Have you never touched a maid?”
There was no time to answer. Taking battle orders from a slender 17-year-old blonde was an undignified insult to his rank, not to mention her challenging his masculinity. Working hastily he wrapped Arrow back in her shredded black clothing. He was startled when he noticed Arrow’s lungs start gently pumping.
Several rounds of sooty gunfire blasted and cracked from different directions. The smoky battle air reeked of oil and chemicals.
“What is this stuff? An organic?” said Eye, sniffing the potion vial. He disregarded the gunplay as if it were routine.
“A steroid vegetable compound designed to quickly incite Arrow’s immune system to do its job and save Arrow’s dear life. It’s absorbed fastest through maximum skin contact. It’s safe for trauma and increases blood production.”
Eye just nodded in disbelief at Anchor’s curative knowledge.
“I suppose it’s good for warts, too,” joked Eye.
“Let’s go! We’ll perform a standard combat diversion. Eye, carry Arrow carefully toward the large side door beneath that lion statue. Quickly now, run c’mon!” commanded the girl warrior, Anchor.
Eye looked back over his shoulder in time to see Anchor jigging on the table and flinging down two vials. As they cracked, mixing on the floor, the room instantly filled with a squid-like blackout smoke. He wondered, smiling, if the jig was essential.
Eye, with Arrow bolstered, burst through the side door as commanded by her Most Presumptuous Majesty, the Little Royal Princess of the Golden City of Shiloh and Heiress to the Imperial Throne. Fabulously, Anchor was already waiting and pointing out an escape route. They ran in that general direction expecting reports behind them at any moment.
“Slow a bit,” said Anchor, “there’s a sleeping element in the black gas. It’ll give us an extra half hour lead.”
“Good. Good,” Eye replied, “How is Arrow looking?”
“Her life signs are still feeble. She very pale. We need water and a place to hide. I’ve had worse victims survive.”
“She should’ve been killed instantly.”
“She was.”
“But she’s alive now?”
“Yes.”
“How? I don’t understand?” asked Eye wondering.
“You don’t need to. Stick to your specialty. You wound them. I’ll heal them.”
“That makes me sound like a brute.”
“Yes,” she smiled, jubilant. Secretly, she liked this reluctant hero.
They walked mostly in silence. There was a rhythm to their gait like different waves pulsing against each other fashioning a fresh harmonic. The tall warrior, swaggering with the unconscious pretty lady, he was oscillating at a lower frequency. The petite Arrow’s dangling hands bouncing rhythmically over his broad shoulders at a mid-range cycle while the young sorceress danced skipping back and forth across an unseen trail at high pulse. Through desert rock and sand, the young woman obviously was the only one who really knew where they were going and why.