Street Magic: Alicia's Story

Ambush

2008
(5 years later)

The first time I ever killed someone, I smashed two soldiers under a car. Back then, I had no idea what I was capable of. Back then, out of shock, I couldn't move for seconds after.

My lips twitch into a smirk. I guess, I've come a long way.

Right now, I'm cowering at a roadside in a forest, more than a dozen of my comrades hiding behind the tree line. It's a beautiful night, silvery moonlight illuminating the evergreen trees, stars sparkling over our heads. The only disturbance are the engine noises of approaching cars, faint and quiet at first, but closing in quickly. I smile. Here we go.

"Down", I shout back at my comrades and point my fists at the passing convoy. The backlash of my magic surges up my arms when I lash out. Tires screech and metal crashes as the leading car is thrown aside and spins out of control, the rest of the convoy too fast to brake in time. The second car buries into the first, two chassis merging into a single lump of plastic and metal. The prison bus skids to a halt, pushed clear of the crash site with another surge of my will. Panicked screams and yelled orders mingle with the cacophony.

Swiftly, the minivan and the last vehicle pull in in front of the bus, soldiers emerging with blazing guns, blindly firing into the surrounding woods and searching cover behind their rides.

A cackle of static runs through me, when Cam's shield stabilizes in front of us, and with a shift of focus I direct what's left of my own magic to reinforce their effort. They give me a short smile from the side. The rattling fire of machine pistols is deafening, but we can hold it up, physical bullets too weak compared to our magic. The soldiers can't see through our shield, can't see where our strike teams will emerge. To my side, Katie gestures something at her team, just some -

"Grenade", somebody yells, and something explodes on the shield, yet weaker, softer than I would -

"Ali, Cam, retreat", shouts Katie, panic lacing her voice. Too late. A wave of numbness roles over me, as I see the shield flicker and dissolve. I collapse to the ground. No, no, this-

I try to reach for the shield, for my own magic, but it's not there, it's gone, replaced by a dull throb that almost-

"Ali!" I feel Katie's hand on my ankle. She's shooting now. Everyone is, suddenly, without the shield there's no-

Katie stumbles back with a yelp. Her hold of me is gone. The soldiers are closing in quickly.

"Retreat", Katie hollers. "Everyone, back."

I can't move. My body won't obey my simplest orders. All I can see is some meters of street. No bodies, at least. Someone has scooped up Cam and pulled them back. I close my eyes. Hopefully all of them make it to safety.

The soldiers are all around me now, booted feet pounding past me, following my friends.

A rough hand digs into my hair and yanks my head up from the mossy ground. I stare into a young soldier's face, his eyes widening in surprise and sudden triumph. "It's Rivera", he shouts. "Holy shit, we got Rivera."

"'Ongra'lation'", I mumble. My voice is a viscous slur, but at least it's still there. I've been worse.

Another pair of hands grab me, and I find myself thrown over a shoulder.

"Get her here", someone commands, a calm voice amid the chaos. "Secure perimeter. And give me an update on the vehicles."

Without the shots, the forest has fallen eerily silent. There's rustles all around me, when the soldiers take position, moans from the wrecked cars, nervous calls from the kids in the bus. I try to lift my head, try look up at them, search for their gazes, but it fails when I'm dropped to the ground unceremoniously at the feet a tanned, dark-haired man with a captain's insignia on his shoulders. The blinding light of a flashlight hits my eyes. My arm twitches, but I'm too weak to lift it up against it. A booted foot at my cheek roughly forces my face fully into the light.

"Her indeed." Out of nowhere, a hard kick lands in my ribcage. I gasp for air, and can't help a pained whimper escape my lips. I hear a hard chuckle, followed by another kick to the same spot. "Pathetic bitch. Tie her up, drug her, and into the jeep. WHAT ABOUT THE OTHER VEHICLES, FREEMAN, GODDAMMIT?"

"One jeep and van functional, bus' engine fried", someone calls from the side. "Can't fix it here. Not with the tools we have."

"Fuck", the captain shouts. "Fuck. We're sitting ducks here."

I'm pulled up to my knees with my arms behind my back. Zip ties cut into my wrists. Tight. Way too tight. I let out a quiet groan. The captain's eyes snap back at me, and his frown is slowly replaced by a cruel smirk. "Your friends want you, or these criminals, Rivera? Won't get either."

Shoots erupt in the woods at the far end of the crash site. They're coming back. Fuck. Don't let them do anything stupid. Not for me.

The captain raises his voice. "Carlson. Get inmates Martinez and Chambers into the van. Everyone, to the cars. We abandon the bus. And Burton, ready that grenade launcher. NOW!" With a short glance at me, he whispers. "Got more than enough to make up for the loss."

The soldiers around us are running again, pulling two figures in yellow overalls with them to the van. From somewhere, a man with a grenade launcher shows up next to us and swings into the passenger door of the jeep.

It takes me a second to comprehend.

"No!", I shout as I'm being dragged back toward the jeep and pushed into the back seat, half on top of another soldier. My voice is catching up strength. "NO! They're kids! Under your protection! You can't-"

"Blame yourself, bitch." The captain hits me across the mouth with the back of his hand, before he squeezes in next to me and draws the door shut. "Do it, Burton!"

The minivan in front of us is taking up speed, leaving the site with screeching tires.

Burton is standing in our passenger door, launcher on his shoulder, swinging into the direction of the bus. I can hear panicked shouts in the distance.

"No!", I yell again.

A gunshot explodes right next to me. Burton's shape seems to crumble, the launcher sliding down his shoulders. There's blood everywhere. Before I can get a grasp of what happens, someone pushes down my shoulder. Another shot, more blood, the driver collapsing over the wheel. The gun is in front of me now, pointed right between the captain's eyes. Everything is covered in blood. The gun. The captain. Me. And the soldier to my right, the one holding the gun, steadily and calmly.

"Freeman, what?", the captain stammers.

"They're kids, asshole", Freeman says. I close my eyes.

A third gunshot rocks the car.