A Worthy Ending…Or Should I Say Beginning?
Drake continued to beat on Grayson's chest in hopes that he would wake up and Roman was still frantically nudging Emery, also trying to get her conscious, but with more persistence and worry marring his forlorn face. Bitch and the other trags lay dead on the rooftop while Eric and Julia were semiconscious on the ground floor, still shaking off the wave of energy that had exploded from the beacon.
Meanwhile, Taylor was still buckled in her overturned car, screaming for help as she watched the gas from her broken car trickle closer to the open flames on the street. Taylor was frightened for herself and increasingly terrified for her unborn baby. It was too early in the pregnancy to even know the gender of her child yet and she would not let it end like this. Remembering how Sophia had told her about the uncanny strength of pregnant Atrians, Taylor proceeded to claw at her restricting seat belt; it had served its purpose and was now hindering her escape. With a little more effort than it would take to open a pickle jar, Taylor ripped the seat belt apart and gravity quickly made her face plant on the windshield. Groaning, she pulled herself up onto her palms, trying to avoid the nasty little glass shards that were leaving little cuts all over her skin. Very slowly, in an attempt to refrain from getting more cuts (also in case she had injured herself and had not been able to tell with the adrenaline rush), Taylor dragged herself out of the driver's side window and scrambled to stand up and get as far away from her dying car as possible. Doing all of this while injured, in heels no less, did not make it any easier, but the adrenaline and maternal instincts helped massively. By the time Taylor reached the sidewalk, the gas had found its way to the open flames and she had just enough time to duck into a doorway before it exploded.
