Protector of Men Ch 42

She opened the door to a street full of people. She stepped out, ignoring the voice in her head telling her not to step into the raging tide of people… Zandra immediately felt crowded, felt claustrophobic. It wasn't her natural reaction, but a new one created by the threat of the new agents. Now that she was in a crowd, anyone could kill her in a matter of seconds. Everyone was deadly.

She was in the middle of the street, an island in the sea of humanity. People jostled past her, going to work, to appointments, to school…

She felt the urgency grow and began to search for a way to get out. Even the building would have been safer than on the ground, just waiting to be attacked. She reached for her cellphone, but it wasn't there. Dread instantly filled every inch of her – without a cellphone, she wouldn't be able to get out, wouldn't be able to find an exit. She was blind. Panicking, she shoved her way through the crowd, looking for a building, a car, something she could get into where there weren't as many people. It was when she got to the sidewalk that she realized her perilous state.

"It's the anomaly," one of the agents said. He was coming at her from her left, a good twenty feet away. But he was walking quickly, and behind him were two more agents. One of them pressed his earpiece against his head, then nodded. He pulled out his gun.

She already had hers out, and aimed it at the oncoming militia. She knew that she couldn't hit them, but perhaps she could stall them while she made a getaway. Before the agent could fire, or even aim, she unloaded a clip from her Beretta, sending the agents into a frenzy of movement. But it didn't last long. After a few seconds she had to change clips, and the agents took advantage of the extra time to chase. Guns wouldn't help Zandra now. She needed time.

Time is of the essence!

She dropped her gun to the ground and ran. She ran as hard as she could, but she could still hear the agents giving chase behind her. Though the crowd of people was thinning, there were still coppertops milling about the street, doing whatever was necessary in their pointless lives…

A person in front of her screamed and dropped her things. A second later she was another agent. Zandra skidded to a halt, narrowly missing the new agent in front of her. She was surrounded, and the agents were closing in. What do I do now?

She looked up. There was a line of clothes hanging to dry between the two buildings she was surrounded by. There was only one way to get out, and only a few more seconds to do it. Relying on instinct, she ran left, towards the wall. She didn't run up, but reversed direction. The agents were close behind her as she jumped off the wall and up – and the agent dodged out of her way so that they wouldn't be hit by a flying kick. But Zandra wasn't thinking of attacking. She was thinking of fleeing, and fleeing only. Maybe when she was in a safer position would she decide to take the offensive.

She took hold of the line above her and pulled. It held her weight, but just barely. She pulled her leg into the window above her, but didn't go in. For all she knew, there were more people in there that could turn into agents, and she'd be gone in a second. The roof was only a few feet above her.

The agents were close behind, synchronizing their movement to their advantage. Two of them disposed of themselves, leaving one agent trailing Zandra, and two people thoroughly confused. They were transfixed by the agent, who made a clean jump from the ground all the way to the ceiling which Zandra had just climbed onto. She stood up and readied herself for whatever awaited.

Anticipate, anticipate, she told herself. You have to be ready for anything!

She was waiting for him as the agent landed on the roof. A second later she was on the ground, struggling to get back up. Her head was hanging over the edge of the building – and if she had been hit only a little harder, she would have fallen. Zandra twisted her way up quickly as the agent approached. Watch him! She told herself. She wouldn't miss another move.

Zandra saw the man flinch as he came up to her, realized that it meant he would move. She dodged to the right, watching his punch land – no, miss her by a few inches. He was fast, but his aim wasn't great. Faster was only a state of mind. If she could keep moving quick enough, she'd be safe - as long as there were no surprises.

But she was still in danger. She stood only a few inches from thin air; the edge of the building loomed ominously behind her. If the agent were able to hit her, she'd fall off the building, and that would be hard to undo. She kept her distance and circled the now angry agent, turning the tides. He was now the one against the wall; she just had to hit him.

She tried to kick him, but he dodged it in a blur of movement. She had to do something more, but what? She saw him flinch again and moved backwards, this time dodging a punch to the chest. The agent was growing furious; Zandra becoming desperate.

She pulled out her Skorpions from her belt. She knew he could dodge bullets, but could he do that and dodge her at the same time? It was worth exploring. She let the bullets rip, and just as she had expected, the agent went into a blur of dodging movement. She slowly advanced as she continued to fire – hoping that she wouldn't run out of ammunition – and kicked his legs out from under him. The agent toppled forward, still dodging her fire.

He began to look strange, but Zandra was not deterred. She fiercely kicked his downed body off the edge of the building, a flash temporarily stunning her into stillness. She looked down, and there was only a woman splayed on the ground. The agent had abandoned the host before he was killed. It was a cheap move.

Zandra heard a thump behind her and turned around. It was another agent. A moment later, a second joined him. One began firing his Eagle, while the other approached. Zandra dodged some of the bullets, but was also occupied with the agent coming at her. In her struggle, she was unable to keep him from knocking her off of the building. It happened quickly, but the fall was slow. She watched the agents shrink as she fell through the sky.

She was in the air, falling. Again. She felt the rushing in the pit of her stomach, felt adrenaline pumping in her veins, felt her pulse rocket, as if her body were trying to break itself open. And then it was over.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move. It hurt just existing. Zandra lay in a heap on the ground, staring up at the sky as if wondering where she had come from. She looked over – oh, how much it hurt – and the agents were coming again. She knew they wouldn't shoot from a distance. No, they would wait until they were good and close so that they would have the pleasure of shooting point blank. So they could relish the exact moment of death.

Stephen.

No!

How did Stephen die? She asked herself angrily, because it was real. It's not real!

She pulled herself up off the street and spat the blood out of her mouth. It flew in a red jet that landed a few feet short of the agents' shiny black shoes. Anger pulsed through her digital body. The agents stopped running and pulled out their guns. Her own guns had been smashed in the fall, leaving her utterly weaponless for the moment. She wasn't thinking about it though. She was only thinking of destroying them.

They began to shoot, but again it was useless. Zandra let the bullets drop feet in front of her. They showered her, and fell like water from a tree –leaping to the ground with an aqueous clink. The agents waited a moment, then advanced. They wouldn't have any idea what hit them. But it would be Zandra.