Twenty Four Shades Darker: The Hunt

(18) A Twist In Time...

She shouldn't have screamed, but the pain was so fast and so overwhelming that the noise was out of her mouth before she could stop it.

Erik wheeled around. It was the right one; his glasses were broken and skewed and there was a smattering of acne scars around his left temple. Blood was smudged over his face. She'd seen the clone clobber him around the cheek but the bruise wasn't showing yet.

"I'm fine," she spluttered, crawling back to her feet. "Left!"

He ducked just as the Jute-clone roared out of nowhere, blood pouring down her face and sticking in her hair. Jute herself couldn't have said where the knowledge of the attack came from. It was just instinct, pure instinct, which was all you could rely on in a fight...not that she'd been in many...

And she was hurt...

Marisa was gone. Will was gone. Blaire and Barley, real or clone, were dead, as was a Holly. Her heart twisted for a second. The Satine-clone was dead; the real Satine had peeled aside Lincoln's shirt and seemed to be administering basic first aid with one hand while the other rested authoritatively on Lincoln's shoulder to stop him trying to get up. She shouldn't really have expected any more. The Career boys had stuck together the whole time and, at a guess, had their own plans, so why would they intervene in this fight that wasn't theirs?

She spotted a pale shape flitting through the trees and brought up the blow-gun, ignoring the incredible pain in her right arm. The dart hit the shape in the thigh and it turned and darted out towards her; Erik. She put the mouthpiece to her lips again and tried to aim. The neck, ideally. Only two darts left so this had to be a good one. And just at the crucial moment she caught sight of the face and stuttered...

What if she was mistaken? What if this was the real Erik thinking she was the clone?

And the one she thought was the real Erik was hesitating too, because it was her attacking him...

Think quick.

"You take him!" she cried, seizing his shoulder with her good arm and spinning him to face himself. He nodded, grim faced, and gripped the knife even tighter. If he had any doubts he wasn't going to voice them. Which meant that if something happened to him while he was following her instructions, it was her fault.

Now was not the time to think about it.

The clones were darting about, timing their attacks, down to Erik and her and Lincoln now - where had the others gone? Taking Holly and Marisa away? Would they come back? And there was her (suspected broken arm), Erik (fine so far), Lincoln (stabbed) and Satine (potentially traumatized) and they were tired and hungry and so, so close now...

There was too much in her head. Her clone sneered and that wasn't helping much either because she knew that it was a reflection of the look she was trying to give off; tough and scary. She was failing. The clone wasn't.

"Satine!" She didn't need to look at him so she kept rotating as her clone circled, choosing her moment to strike.

"I'm a bit busy right now!"

To the casual observer his voice was as calm as it had been when he'd put Cordelia out of her misery, perhaps even tinged with mild irritation. To someone who had spent the last two weeks listening to his chatter, it was high and panicky. Probably best to leave him be, then.

The circling continued. Long, tense seconds. Her arm pulsed and throbbed and her cheek stung and she could feel another fever coming on; her tattered, fortnight-old clothes were sticking to the back of her neck and waves of dizziness were starting to lap at the back of her consciousness. Not now. Please not now.