Luxurious Anarchy (Lux/Jinx)

Chapter 20: Burn It All Down

"C'mon, we're almost there," Caitlyn shouted before taking a hastily aimed shot back down the street she found herself on. Founder's Bridge was close, close enough to see the towering statues that dotted the length of the ancient structure in the twilight of early evening.

A brief shower of lead rattled off the buildings and pavement around her last few fellows. "Reloading!" cried some chem-punk down the alleyway, a cry that was echoed by at least a dozen more gangers.

"Move!" barked Caitlyn, and suited action to words, running pell-mell toward the next spot of cover, the end of the street, the final stretch.

Distantly, some part of her wondered why they'd taken no more injuries, why at all the blind corners her party had been forced to take there hadn't been an ambush waiting for them.

She suspected they were being herded like cattle, but whether it was toward the safety of a pasture or a blood-slicked slaughterhouse, she wasn't sure.

"Pasture being across the bridge, yes, perfect analogy," she grumbled as she ran. Abigail and Cameron were just ahead of her, Lailha just behind, and the last five Home Guard of the ill-fated First Company scattered around them. Cameron was carrying Lenn's body, cradling the smaller man to his chest while Abigail carried their rifles across her back.

The crackle of revolver fire let Caitlyn know Lailha had squirreled away more pistol ammo than was permitted by regulations to be carried at any one time. Neither of them had so much as winged a single chem-punk since their break-out flight from the house, but that hadn't stopped either of them from trying to deter their followers.

They were definitely being driven toward the river, and the bridge in an aggressive manner, but it was clear whoever was riding their tails didn't want any more bloodshed.

Caitlyn rounded the corner, and slid to a stop behind a crate bound for the docks. She brought the Hexrifle to her cheek, and looked down the scope. She blinked, trying to will her eyes to see through walls like they had before, to show her the people chasing them, but all she summoned was a fresh stab of pain in her temples.

"Dammit all," she muttered, and took a shot down the street anyway, aiming high and turning a chunk of brick and mortar into dust and debris. A voice cried out in shock, then coughed and sputtered, presumably having inhaled some of the powderized brick.

"Keep moving," she shouted, racking the bolt on her rifle before ducking around the corner and dropping into one last sprint. Desultory return fire licked at where she'd been moments ago, but it was telling that the gunfire only started after she'd moved away.

"There's the bridge, just a bit further!" cried Abigail, and it was only by a supreme effort of will that Caitlyn's knees didn't buckle when she saw the stone plinths that flanked the entrance to the bridge come into view.

As they got closer, Caitlyn noticed more things, all of which pushed shards of fear into her heart.

For one, at the midpoint of the bridge, a blockade was in place. Waist-high barriers of concrete arrayed in a zigzag lead up to a chest-high wall of sandbags and more concrete segments. Anyone trying to push from the undercity side would be slowed by the barriers, if not stopped cold by the wall in the center of the bridge.

Above them, half a dozen armored airships hung in the sky, pintle-mounted elephant guns swinging this way and that as the gunners eyed the upper lanes with hawkish precision.

Rather than Enforcers holding the choke point like she feared, three full-strength squads of Home Guard stood at the ready with machinelike precision, repeater rifles tucked to their shoulders, respirators and helmets covering every square inch of flesh.