The convoy rolled out in two lines.
SUV in front
Arden's bike to the right
three cargo vans behind
Jace's people split in the rest
the sun was lowering — orange cut across shattered glass in the streets — reflective patches like burning puddles.
Kai leaned back in his seat — feet up on the dashboard like a menace — but every now & then his fingers tapped the crowbar resting by his hip.
Alva kept both hands on the wheel.
focus razor–sharp.
Nox had the map open in his lap — watching the GPS signal flicker every few blocks.
"highway entrance is three blocks ahead," he said. "if we hit clean pavement we can make the base in two hours."
Arden's voice crackled through comms:
> "keep left. overpass is weak structurally but it's the only path that bypasses scavenger territory."
Alva accelerated — careful — the armored SUV handled like it remembered being military.
as they reached the slope up — the highway rose above city bones — cracked cement — weeds growing through.
Nox inhaled sharply.
"wait—"
too late.
two cargo vans rolled onto the overpass section before the SUV and —
the world dipped.
deep metal groan
a long grinding scream from beneath
the slab sagged
the van front bumpers nose–down — tires spinning — then the concrete snapped.
Arden shouted in comms:
> "BRAKE— BRAKE— PULL BACK—"
but the two vans were already sliding forward — gravity taking control.
Kai yelled:
"Alva!"
Alva didn't think.
she slammed the SUV to a halt
threw her door open
ran at the crack forming —
and instinct took over.
powers didn't flare like panic — they came like decision.
light crawled up her arms — not frantic — deliberate.
she thrust both palms forward.
air itself thickened — a pressure wave snapped outward and caught the nose of the nearest van mid-slide — like invisible hands.
concrete chunks rained past her shoulders — sparks flew — the world vibrated.
Kai watched her — eyes wide — not scared — not shocked — expectant.
he knew she'd catch it.
she gritted her teeth — pushing — shoving space itself back into place.
the van froze inches from the edge — held up by nothing but her resonance.
Nox gasped behind her — voice breathless:
"she's altering density of air… like hardening it…"
Alva pushed harder — voice strained:
"reverse— NOW!"
the driver inside slammed gear — tires spun — van backed off the break edge slowly — crawling.
the second van — teetering — rattled loose concrete — falling—
Arden leaped off his bike — sprinted — shoved his shoulder against the bumper — muscles straining —
Alva flicked one hand — redirecting her field — buying him one more second of gravity cheating.
Kai sprinted and hooked his crowbar under the axle to give leverage.
together — the van rolled enough to regain purchase.
tires roared backwards to safety.
and then Alva finally dropped her hands.
energy snapped out — like letting go of a held breath.
the slab section broke clean through — collapsing — thunder echoing below like a dead god falling.
silence.
dust.
Alva's knees wobbled — she didn't fall — but her chest shook once.
Kai walked to her slowly — not touching — but stepping close enough that she felt his presence like a shield.
he said quietly — voice low:
"you didn't save a car."
pause.
soft.
"you saved twenty people."
Alva closed her eyes — just long enough to feel it settle.
when she opened them — she wasn't overwhelmed.
she was aware.
aware that she could.