Gods Under The Dome

8.2

《A Warm Welcome》

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Della becomes a blur of limbs as she delegates orders to the mass of Titavs huddled below the grate.

"Nose, Jensen," she yells, while simultaneously pushing Keran out from under the onslaught of blood. "Take a few stickies and blow that grate to fucking bits!"

The two men nod and sling their shoulder bags in front of their chests. They remove two black discs and, on tiptoes and with arms outstretched, adhere them to each side of the grate.

Della takes a long, hard look at her lieutenant and gives Keran's face a good wipe with the sleeve of her shirt. "Hey," she shakes the girl, slaps her cheeks.

Keran's eyes remain hinged on the grate and the moonlight pouring through the metallic slats. "They're all--" Another swell of blood rushes through the grate and splashes into the muck river.

"Fighting," Della says. With a delicacy I'd never witnessed before from Della, she touches Keran's chin and tilts her head upward. "We need to get up there fast and provide back up."

Keran nods slowly as each of Della's words seems to cut through the fog that had enveloped her mind. "Back up," she repeats.

Della smiles. "That's it kiddo. We'll fight whatever's up there and we'll win."

"Stickies ready to light up this birthday cake," Nose says.

With Keran in tow, Della sprints over to us and motions for us all to get down. I grimace at the warm sensation of sewer water rising over my knees.

"What's gon--"

"Light 'em up!" Della screams.

A flash of light erupts from the grate and a cloud of smoke rushes toward us. Dust coats my face, while a few particles manage to lodge themselves in my throat. Coughing, I wave an arm in front of my face, until I can see the sizzle of flame as it eats through the grate's metal bars. One, freshly wrenched loose, splashes into the water.

Della removes her gun and the small metal dot she'd used as a Comm earlier. She affixes it to her temple, taps it twice, and a thin, green line encases her irises.

"Night vision?" I say.

When she looks at me, her face is grim and paler than I've ever seen it. She takes out a second gun, one she had concealed under her shirt in a shoulder holster and shoves it into my chest. "Whether or not you want to be a leader doesn't matter anymore," she says. Her hand pulls away, goes to her pocket, takes out a thin, metallic tube. She presses a button on the side, and a screen glows in that same green encircling her irises. Syncing, it reads. "You've decided to protect them, yes?"

Her eyes drift back to the grate. The second bar dangles precariously overhead. It was nearly eaten through. Fewer screams come from above. I look at the gun, trace my hand over it. I'd never expected it to feel so heavy, so sturdy, so absolute.

Della's gaze returns to me, and she must notice the shaking of my hands because she says, "Shaking's good. Means you're scared and you should be scared." She gives Keran a pat on the head, whispers something I can't make out, and puts a finger, steady and unwavering over the trigger. The metallic tube beeps and the screen reads, Syncing complete. Della grunts and shoves it into her pant's pocket, so just the tip sticks out. "Use that fear to guide your decisions and do what you can to live up to that promise." She sighs and a shadow falls across her face. "That's all a leader is. Someone who's just as scared as everyone else, who does what has to be done, and manages to walk away a little less dead than everyone else."