Chapter 11 – Power Station
The power station loomed ahead, a concrete block of a building with shattered windows and a chain-link fence torn open in three places. The air smelled of ozone and hot metal, and the rift's violet light made the steam rising from the cooling vents look sickly.
Squad 9 moved along the service road toward the main gate. Garrick walked with a slight limp, his side re-bandaged. Mara's pipe was bent almost into a V, but she still carried it like it was a rifle. Finn's sidearm was loaded, his spare magazines clipped to his belt. Ilin walked beside me, staff in hand, crystal dark. She was steadier than she'd been after the river bridge, but I could see the faint tremor in her fingers.
The commander's brief had been short: "Technicians are inside shutting the grid down. Hold the perimeter until they give the all-clear. No one gets inside."
No one gets inside.
We took position behind a row of supply crates near the gate.
Ilin stayed close to me. "I'll stay out of it unless it's critical."
"Thank you," I said.
She nodded.
The first creatures came from the left, slipping through the gap in the fence.
Finn fired first, two quick shots dropping the lead one. Mara swung her pipe at the second, the bent metal catching it across the jaw. Garrick's axe cleaved the third.
I moved to meet the next wave — four of them, fast.
I sidestepped the first, cut across its throat, pivoted, and drove the blade into the second's eye. The third lunged; I blocked its claw with my forearm and slashed its side. The fourth jumped; I ducked and cut its leg out from under it.
Ilin stayed back, staff ready, but she didn't use it.
We were holding.
Then the bigger ones arrived.
Two breachers.
Garrick met the first, axe biting into its arm. The creature roared and backhanded him. Garrick hit the crates and went down.
Mara swung her pipe at the second. The pipe bent further, and the breacher hit her, sending her sprawling.
Finn fired, emptying his sidearm into the first breacher's chest. The bullets sparked off its stone-like skin.
I ran at the second breacher.
It swung. I ducked, rolled under its arm, and drove my blade into its side. The blade went in, but the creature didn't drop.
It turned and grabbed my shoulder — the same shoulder Ilin had healed.
Pain flared.
I drove my blade into its throat.
The breacher staggered, then fell.
I turned to the first breacher. Garrick was back on his feet, axe in hand, blood running down his side.
Mara was getting up, her lip split.
Finn was reloading.
The first breacher charged Garrick.
Garrick swung, the axe bit, the creature hit him again.
I ran and jumped onto the breacher's back, driving my blade into the base of its skull.
It collapsed.
Garrick was breathing hard, holding his side.
"You okay?" I asked.
"I'm fine," he said, but his face was pale.
I looked for Ilin.
She was standing a few feet away, staff in hand, breathing hard.
"Ilin," I said.
"I'm okay," she said.
"You're not," I said.
"I can keep going," she said.
"No," I said. "You're done."
She looked like she wanted to argue, but she nodded.
"Stay behind the crates," I said.
"I'm not leaving you out here," she said.
"You are," I said. "You'll be more help alive than if you collapse out here."
She hesitated, then nodded and moved behind the crates.
I turned back to the gate.
The next wave was worse.
A crusher.
It was taller than the breachers, its skin cracked like dry earth, both eyes yellow, claws long enough to reach me before I could reach it.
Garrick saw it and muttered, "Great."
Mara said, "We can't take that."
Finn said, "We have to."
The crusher charged.
Garrick swung his axe. The blade chipped.
Mara swung her pipe. It bent more.
Finn fired, emptying his magazine into the creature's chest. The bullets didn't penetrate.
The crusher swung at me.
I dodged, rolled, and slashed at its leg. The blade cut, but not deep.
The crusher swung again.
I rolled the other way, came up, and drove my blade into its knee.
The crusher stumbled.
Ilin was out from behind the crates.
"Ilin, get back!" I shouted.
"I can stun it," she said.
"Ilin—"
She slammed the staff into the crusher's leg. The crystal flared bright white.
The crusher stopped, its leg buckling.
I ran and drove my blade into its throat.
The crusher dropped to its knees, then fell forward with a heavy crash.
Ilin dropped to her knees.
"Ilin!" I shouted, running to her.
I reached her as she fell forward.
I caught her.
"You used healing," I said.
"Only a little," she said, her voice weak.
"You said you wouldn't," I said.
"I couldn't let it kill you," she said.
I lifted her and carried her behind the crates, laying her on the ground.
"You're done," I said.
"I can keep going," she said.
"You can't," I said. "You're done."
She nodded, her eyes closing.
Garrick, Mara, and Finn were breathing hard, covered in sweat and blood.
The yard was quiet again, the bodies of creatures littering the ground.
The commander ran up to us. "Good work. The technicians say the grid is down. You can fall back to the staging area."
We started moving back.
Ilin was in my arms, her head on my shoulder, her breathing shallow.
"You need to rest," I said quietly.
"I will," she said.
"You said that last time," I said.
"I know," she said.
When we reached the staging area, the healer was waiting. She took one look at Ilin and said, "Cot. Now."
I carried Ilin to a cot inside the aid tent and laid her down.
"You overdid it," I said.
"I had to," she said.
"You matter more than one creature," I said.
"You matter more than my exhaustion," she said, echoing my words.
I sighed. "You're stubborn."
"You love it," she said, and smiled weakly.
I took her hand.
The healer checked Ilin's pulse, pressed her fingers to her wrist, and shook her head. "You're at your limit. No more healing until you've rested."
Ilin nodded. "I understand."
The healer left.
Ilin leaned her head on my shoulder. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," I said. "I'm just glad you're okay."
She was quiet for a moment. "When this is over, I want to learn how to use a blade. So I don't have to rely only on the staff."
"I'll teach you," I said.
"I'd like that," she said.
We sat in silence, listening to the distant fighting.
After a while, Ilin said, "I'm scared that one day I won't have enough energy left."
I turned to her. "Then I'll be the one protecting you."
She looked at me. "And I'll be the one keeping you alive."
"That's the deal," I said.
She smiled, tired but genuine.
I leaned in and kissed her forehead.
"You rest," I said. "I'll be right here."
"I know," she said.
She closed her eyes and fell asleep, her hand still in mine.
I stayed, watching her, listening to the rumble of the fight beyond the tent.
Garrick was on a cot across the aisle, his eyes closed, his side bandaged again. Mara was sitting on her cot, trying to straighten her bent pipe with a wrench. Finn was sitting on the floor, cleaning his sidearm.
I thought about what Ilin had said — about being scared of not having enough energy left. I understood that fear. I was scared too. Scared that I wouldn't be fast enough, that my blade would miss, that one of them would die and it would be my fault.
The rift was still there, the city was still burning, and we still had more fighting ahead.
But for now, Ilin was safe, breathing evenly, her hand in mine.
And that was enough.
A while later Ilin stirred, her fingers tightening around mine.
"You're still here," she murmured, eyes still closed.
"Yeah," I said.
She opened her eyes and looked at me. "You didn't leave."
"I told you I wouldn't," I said.
She smiled. "You keep your promises."
"I try to," I said.
She shifted, moving closer so her head rested on my chest. I wrapped my arm around her, careful not to press on her injured arm.
"You should sleep more," she said.
"I will," I said. "After you're asleep."
She laughed softly. "You're impossible."
"You love it," I said.
"I do," she said.
We stayed like that, the noise of the camp fading into the background, the two of us existing in a small quiet pocket while the world burned around us.
Ilin's breathing slowed again. I could feel the rise and fall of her chest against me.
I pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
"I'm glad it's you," she whispered.
"Me too," I said.
After a while, Ilin said, "When this is over, I want to find a quiet place. No fighting. No rift. Just… a quiet place."
"I want that too," I said.
"And I want to actually eat something that isn't a ration bar," she added, and I laughed.
"Me too," I said.
She squeezed my hand. "And I want to see you smile without blood on your face."
I smiled. "You'll see it."
She smiled back.
A healer walked past our cots, checking on the other wounded. I could hear her murmuring reassurances, adjusting bandages, handing out cups of water.
Ilin watched her for a moment. "Do you think the city can be saved?"
"I don't know," I said honestly. "But I think we can save the people we can reach."
She nodded. "That's enough for me."
She was quiet again, then said, "You know, the first time I saw you, I thought you were just another soldier who didn't care."
"What changed your mind?" I asked.
"You came back for me," she said. "Most people wouldn't have."
"I couldn't leave you," I said.
She smiled. "I'm glad you didn't."
I squeezed her hand.
A while later, the healer came back and checked Ilin's pulse again. "You're stable. Get another hour of sleep if you can."
Ilin nodded. "I will."
The healer looked at me. "You should rest too."
"I will," I said.
The healer moved on.
Ilin closed her eyes, but after a minute she opened them again. "Tell me about the water tower."
I smiled. "It was old, rusted, the ladder was shaky. I used to climb it after my shift. From the top you could see the river, the market, the old park. On clear nights you could see the stars."
"What did the stars look like?" she asked.
"Bright," I said. "Like someone scattered salt across black velvet."
She smiled. "I've never seen stars like that. The city lights always drown them out."
"You'll see them."
She closed her eyes again. "I'm holding you to that."
"You can," I said.
We were quiet for a while.
Ilin's breathing slowed, deepened.
I watched her face, the way her eyelashes rested on her cheeks, the faint line of the scar on her chin.
I thought about the night — the rift, the creatures, the way Ilin had thrown herself in front of that man to heal him even though it cost her. The way she'd saved me on the bridge, again in the rail yard, again on the train, again in Sector 9, again on the river bridge, and again at the power station.
I'd never felt this kind of closeness with anyone. Not in the factory, not with coworkers, not with anyone I'd known before tonight.
It scared me, a little.
But it also steadied me.
Ilin shifted in her sleep, her hand tightening around mine.
I adjusted the blanket over her, tucking it around her shoulders.
I was exhausted, my muscles sore, my shoulder and forearm aching even after Ilin's healing. But I couldn't sleep yet.
I kept watch.
A while later, Ilin murmured in her sleep, "I love you."
My chest tightened.
"I love you too," I said, even though she was asleep.
She smiled in her sleep.
I stayed there, holding her hand, listening to her breathe, watching the lantern light flicker on her face.
Outside, the rift pulsed, the city burned, and the war continued.
But inside this small corner of the aid tent, it was quiet, and Ilin was safe, and I was with her.
That was enough.
When the six hours were up, a soldier came to wake us.
"Squad 9, time to move."
Ilin opened her eyes, blinked, and sat up slowly.
"You slept," I said.
"I did," she said, smiling a little. "I feel better."
"You look better," I said.
She stood, steadier this time. I stood with her.
Garrick was already on his feet, rolling his shoulder. Mara was packing her pipe. Finn was checking his rifle.
The commander appeared at the entrance. "Squad 9, you're being sent to the communications tower. The creatures are massing there. Hold the line until the signal is sent."
"Yes, sir," I said.
We gathered our gear and moved out.
As we left the aid tent, Ilin slipped her hand into mine.
I squeezed it.
We walked out into the night, the violet light of the rift overhead, the sounds of battle growing louder ahead.
Ilin stayed close to me.
I kept my arm near her, ready if she needed support.
We were tired, we were hurt, and the night was far from over.
But we were together.
And that was enough.