Othersphere by Nina Berry Page B

Lazar said.
    â€œWe can fight it,” Caleb said. “Or we can run.”
    Everyone was staring at me, waiting.
    I had always been the team leader before, the plan-maker, the bossy one. November, oh, God, November, often teased me, called me General Stripes.
    I stared down at her bloody little body. My mind was a horrible blank.
    The cage jangled again musically as the roof was shoved another inch to one side. More of its silver posts clanked to the floor.
    I looked up at all of them, unable to form a coherent thought. “I . . . I don’t know. I can’t . . .” My mind was ashes. Ashes and death.
    â€œWe run,” Caleb said, stepping into the pause. “It’s too strong for us. We have to risk moving November. Here.” He grabbed a flat piece of shelving slightly longer than November’s rat body and thrust it at me. “Put her on this, and we go.”
    My hands were trembling. Tears spilled from my eyes. I was crouched over November’s mangled form, and I couldn’t move. Some small part of my brain made a note: So this is what it’s like when you fall apart.
    â€œDez?” Lazar put one hand on my shoulder. “What’s going on?” He peered into my face, and his mouth straightened into a grim line. Abruptly, he took the plank of wood from Caleb, set it down, and used both hands to carefully pick November up and move her to the flat surface. “London, I’m going to hand her up to you,” he said. I stayed where I was, trying to control my shivering.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with Dez?” London’s voice seemed to come from far away.
    Caleb’s black coat pooled around him as he knelt next to me. He was frowning with worry and haste, and I looked down in shame. For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to look into Caleb’s eyes.
    â€œShe’ll be okay,” Caleb said. His voice was unexpectedly kind. “Dez. You’re okay. You’re strong. You have to be strong to help us all get out of here.”
    His voice placed something small and warm inside me. The worst of my trembling subsided.
    With swift, soldierlike proficiency, Lazar had removed his belt and secured November to the board with it. “She’s set,” he said.
    Metal grated on cement. The cage shifted, as if it were alive.
    â€œGo!” Caleb said to Arnaldo.
    The eagle took one last penetrating look at me, and then took off, vanishing through the door upstairs, past London’s silhouette.
    Lazar took the strapped-down form of November and handed it up to London, who took her with great care. “Hurry up, you guys,” she said, and trotted off with our friend.
    The shiny black tip of the creature’s staff poked out of the wreckage and pushed at the silver slab of the roof. An angular hand reached up through the crack to move it farther. Smoke rose from the black skin where it touched the silver, filling the air with a smell akin to burning rock and flesh.
    Lazar unholstered his gun, aimed at the creature’s hand, and fired. The bullet thunked into something, and the hand flinched back. Lazar was a deadeye.
    â€œCome on, Dez,” Caleb said in my ear. “Time to go.” He took me by the shoulders and helped me to my feet.
    Lazar switched the gun’s magazine with another.
    â€œSilver bullets?” Caleb asked.
    Lazar nodded, looking slightly ashamed. “I kept some.”
    â€œGood,” Caleb said. “Kill it if you can.”
    The cage roof tilted again, but this time, we couldn’t see what was behind it. The creature had gotten smart, using the silver as a shield, lifting as it went.
    â€œNot sure bullets will do the trick, but I’ll hold it off as long as I can.” Lazar moved to the right of the cage, trying to get an angle where he could see what was going on.
    â€œDon’t wait too long.” Caleb steered me toward the broken wooden stairs. “Come on, Dez. This