The clicking returned moments after the officers fled the precinct.
A short time later, Krowe carried Bella’s limp body to a waiting paramedic after the perimeter had stabilized. The moment they were allowed back, officers flooded onto the precinct grounds, gravitating toward the wreckage and the bagged bodies like moths to a grim flame.
A news van rolled up, nearly driving onto the curb.
His eyes cut to it. “Keep them back,” he barked. “Escort the ambulances to the hospitals.”
Shrugging off a medic, his eyes fixed on the destruction, Vance waded back into the chaos.
Krowe nodded to him.
“She saved us last night, Vance,” he said.
“In more ways than one, sir.” Vance met his eyes.
Sirens screamed all around them, red lights reflecting against shattered glass, as the ambulances pulled away.
“She saw the cocoons for what they were—knew the precinct was being emptied before anyone else did,” Vance added.
As the sun’s rays peeked over the horizon, and birds began to welcome the day with their chirping, he stared at the badly damaged building.
Krowe stood with his back to his officers. He hesitated for a moment, surveying the damage, broken glass scattered along the steps to the building, holes left behind from bullets escaping the precinct, and green goo splattered on the walls, ceilings and floors. Even his uniform bore traces of the swarnlings’ blood.
He knelt down and picked up a badge lying on the step. It belonged to April.
It looked like it had been yanked off and tossed away like it was trash.
He stayed still for a moment.
The badge weighed heavy in his hand.
“April…” he muttered.
He clutched his fist, crushing it.
He placed the badge in pocket and noticed the sudden silence. The birds had gone silent. As he stood, the only sound he heard was broken glass crackling under his boots. The hairs on the back of his neck twitched as a long shadow from up above fell across him. He thought it was clouding up and didn’t give it any more thought.
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Krowe realized something wasn’t quite right about the shadow. That it appeared as if it was the silhouette of someone watching him. He looked up but nothing was there. Nothing more than curious pigeons resting on the edge of the rooftop.
Suddenly, there was a singular click and the carcass of a swarnling slammed into the ground in front of him. More green goo splayed across his boots. The sky clicked again and another creature fell. It landed two steps away from him. Krowe didn’t move.
***
The sterile sharp sting of industrial bleach and alcohol registered first. Then the rhythm of beep, hiss, beep.
Bella blinked the fog from her eyes. A desert of bone white ceiling tiles stared back at her. She tried to sit up but a spike of pain drove through her right shoulder, pinning her back to the mattress.
She glanced around the room. The memories surged—the shouting, the flash of his gun, Krowe carrying her.
“Another hospital,” she whispered. “I hate them.”
She looked down. Under the oversized hospital gown, a heavy stack of gauze was taped over her collarbone.
“Bout time you woke up,” a voice said.
Bella’s head snapped in the direction of the voice. She hissed in pain.
Spant melted out of the shadows.
“Spant!” she yelled. “Don’t do that. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
He smiled. “You’re too strong for that.”
“How long have I been out?” she asked.
“Two days.”
“I’ve been out two days?” Bella asked as she slowly eased upright.
“You really should lie still.”
He tossed a newspaper onto her lap. “You’re a hero, Bella. They say you saved your team’s lives.”
She stared at the paper. She hesitated as her hand shook before reaching for it.
She flipped inside it.
“Oh god. Why did they do that? Did they put my picture in it?”
He leaned against the wall, studying her.
“Who are you running from, Bella?”
Bella stared at the newspaper before laying it on her lap. She closed her eyes as if she was exhausted. “I’m not running from anyone. I just don’t like the picture they used. There is no crime to solve here, detective.”
“That look on your face when you saw the paper said otherwise, Bella. It’s not a crime to need help,” he said. “It becomes a crime when you become another headline in that paper.”
Spant stepped closer. “Why the CPD? Why the practice range every night?”
“Who do you think you are, Spant?” she asked. “You have no right to—”
“Are you a victim or a fugitive?”
Her hand twitched. Bella’s eyes narrowed into a scowl.
He gave her a flat look. “Which is it?”
Bella rubbed her right shoulder and her hand fell to the bed. She turned her head toward the door and became silent.
Spant waited.
She pulled her legs up and buried her head between them.
“V…victim,” she whispered. Her fingers scratched at a loose thread on her gown.
Spant pulled a tiny device from a pocket in his utility belt, and placed it in her hand, closing her fingers around it. “Take this. If he ever finds you, press that button.”
She looked at her hand, then up at him. “How did you know?”
“It’s my job,” he whispered. His head shot to the hospital door as he eased back into the shadows. “Get some rest, Officer Sparks.”
A sudden loud metallic crash came from the hallway.
Bella’s head snapped toward the door. “That didn’t sound good,” she said.
She looked around.
The window hung open. Spant was already gone.
Knock.