The Storm: Chapter Nineteen
We couldn't afford to waste any more time. Escaping the complex and reaching the Berg was our top priority. Every second spent here increased the risk of being caught and dragged back to those dreadful beds.
I trailed behind the others, venturing into areas of the complex previously unseen by my eyes. A vast, dimly lit room loomed before us, shadows dancing in the crimson glow. It must have once served as a waiting area, a relic of a time when guests were permitted to depart the facility.
Brenda led the way, her grip firm on a bulky box. We navigated through halls that had once hosted unsettling procedures, punctuated by murmurs of disdain directed at Janson and his conspicuous absence. Yet, our focus remained fixed on reuniting with our comrades. We traversed a cafeteria, dormitories, bathrooms, and meeting rooms, only to find them deserted. The emptiness grew unnerving with each new room explored. Surely, it was inconceivable for an entire staff and their associates to vanish without a trace. We expected to encounter someone, anyone, along the way.
After tirelessly scouring every corner of the building for an hour, we reached an impasse. Doubt crept in as exhaustion weighed heavily upon us.
"Are we certain we've covered every inch?" I panted, feeling the burden of the Launchers and ammunition bearing down on me.
"As far as I know," Minho replied, his tone tinged with uncertainty. "But knowing WICKED, there could be hidden compartments we've missed."
"WICKED does enjoy their surprises," Maya chimed in, propping herself against the end of her Launcher.
"Let's zigzag toward the hangar, remaining vigilant for any signs of our allies," Thomas declared, forging ahead with resolve. We fell into step behind him, scanning every nook and cranny for a glimmer of hope.
Eventually, Poe and Maya flanked me, our footsteps falling into a synchrony reminiscent of our days in the Scorch.
"What do you imagine the outside world looks like?" Maya mused, breaking the tense silence with a question that lingered in all our minds.
"My dreams," Poe reflected, his voice carrying a wistful tone. "They depict towering structures akin to those we encountered in the Scorch, but teeming with vitality and bathed in light."
"You have dreams?" I interjected, surprised by the revelation. Until now, I had assumed my experience of regaining memories was unique among us.
"Since the moment the creature stung me," Poe admitted. "They're sporadic, but they linger."
"I had no idea you were stung by those creatures," I confessed, taken aback by the disclosure.
"You never inquired," Poe shrugged nonchalantly. "In any case, it's evident that my dreams are fragments of my past, resurrected by that sting. Unless, of course, I possess an untapped well of creative genius."
Maya couldn't contain a snort of disbelief. "Highly doubtful."
Poe rolled his eyes, unperturbed. "Have a little faith, Maya. You believed me then, and you should now. Besides, Clarke, you experienced similar dreams, just yours were a little different. You never told us what happened in them. Just that they were not right."
I nodded solemnly, acknowledging the torment of my own memories. The recollections that haunted my sleep were enough to drive anyone to madness.
"Do you recall your family?" I asked Poe, curiosity tinging my voice.
Poe paused, his expression distant as he delved into his subconscious. "I only glimpse one face—golden hair and vivid green eyes. I presume she's my mother. I know I'm happy when I have that dream."
"I don't share your dreams," Maya interjected, her voice carrying a hint of frustration. "Mine revolve around Maggie and me, living on a farm surrounded by countless animals. Just the two of us, free from any intrusion, even WICKED."
"That's because your dreams likely don't stem from past memories," Poe explained.
"And?" Maya retorted, a touch too loudly. "A girl can still dream, can't she?"
Thomas glanced over his shoulder at the sound, his gaze flickering with concern before refocusing ahead, maintaining his determined stride.
"We should catch up to them," Maya interjected hastily, her tone shifting. "I need to find Maggie. I owe her an apology."
"We'll find her," I murmured reassuringly to Maya, sensing her need for comfort. Poe's capacity for emotional support was limited, still consumed by grief over Lottie's loss. I couldn't imagine the strain he bore, especially concerning the complexities of others' relationships. I hadn't witnessed his struggles in the immediate aftermath of our rescue from the Scorch, but I knew there was a breaking point for everyone. When Poe reached his, I resolved to be there for him, to offer the support he had so often extended to us.
Quickening my pace, I caught up to Newt, contemplating offering him my hand for solace. However, the thought of inadvertently hurting Maya and Poe by flaunting any semblance of intimacy in their presence discouraged me. I didn't want to rub it in their face at what I had in the moment. Newt acknowledged my presence with a subtle smile, reciprocated in kind as we resumed our search for the others.
Some time passed when Minho abruptly froze. He pointing to his ear in a gesture barely discernible in the dim glow of the red emergency lights bathing the hallway.
Halting in unison with the others, I regulated my breathing, straining to pick up on whatever Minho had detected. Initially, I was distracted by the rhythmic cadence of our collective breaths, but soon enough, I too caught wind of the ominous sound.
A low, haunting moan permeated the air, sending a shiver down my spine. It emanated from a few yards ahead, obscured from view by the huddled figures of my companions. What I could discern amidst the dimness was the glint of shattered glass scattered across the tiled floor, each shard reflecting the crimson illumination, intensifying the eerie ambiance.
The moan reverberated through the corridor, echoing off the walls like a desperate plea for release. It sounded as though someone were trapped in a state of perpetual torment, struggling to rouse themselves from a nightmarish slumber.
Minho gestured for silence, lowering his two extra launchers with utmost care. Following his lead, we shed any extraneous weight, preparing ourselves for whatever lay ahead. With Minho leading the way, Thomas and Poe positioned themselves at the rear, poised to act upon his command. Tension hung thick in the air, every nerve on edge with anticipation. I could scarcely bear the suspense, consumed by a desperate need to uncover the source of the haunting moans.
Minho pressed against the wall, his gaze darting around the window frame, assessing the situation with precision. "Ready," he whispered to the two boys beside him. "Now." With calculated swiftness, he pivoted, his Launcher aimed into the darkness beyond, while Poe and Thomas flanked him, poised to provide support. Maya and Brenda remained vigilant, watching for any unexpected threats lurking in the shadows.
I observed Poe's poised finger hovering near the trigger, poised to act at the slightest provocation. As a tense minute passed with no sign of movement, I strained to see over the taller boys' shoulders, the curse of being the smallest there.
Desperate to see what everyone else could, I wedged myself between Minho and Thomas, earning a sharp glare from Minho as I jostled him aside. The dim red emergency lighting afforded only a glimpse of the scene beyond—a room scattered with indistinct shapes.
A subtle movement caught my eye, drawing my focus to the darkened forms sprawled across the room. As I honed in on the motion, I realized that the shadows concealed bound figures—guards, clad in dark clothing.
"They're guards," Brenda hissed, her voice slicing through the tense silence. Muffled gasps escaped from the captives, their panicked eyes seeking out the source of the disturbance. Bound and gagged, they lay in rows upon the floor, their struggles evident even in the dim light.
"So this is where they all went," Poe breathed, his voice heavy with realization.
Newt leaned over the top of me to get a better look. "At least they're not all hangin' from the ceiling with their tongues sticking out like last time."
I cast my eyes up, unsure what he meant by that statement. I thought about asking him, but thought better of it. There was a time and place to ask them sort of questions. Now was not one of those times.
"We need to question them and find out what happened," Brenda said as she was moving towards the door.
Thomas grabbed her by the arm before she even had the chance to open it. "No."
"What do you mean no? Why not? They can tell us everything!" She snatched her arm from him but hesitated her hand hovering over the door handle.
"It might be a trap, or whoever did this could come back soon. We just need to get out of this place."
"Yeah," Minho agreed. "This is not up for debate. We need to get moving, the shanks are not a priority."
Brenda sighed. "Fine. Just thought we could get some information out of them. You know, something useful for us." She paused then pointed her finger past us. "Hanger's that way."
We gathered our weapons and ammunition, following Brenda through the labyrinthine corridors of the WICKED complex. With every cautious step, we remained vigilant, ensuring the path ahead was clear while also watching for any signs of pursuit from behind. The unknown assailant who had incapacitated the guards still lurked somewhere out there, a constant threat looming over us.
Finally, we arrived at a pair of double doors, one slightly ajar, a faint breeze rustling Brenda's scrubs. Minho and Poe took up positions on either side of the doorway, Launchers at the ready, while Thomas and Maya guarded the rear. I tightened my grip on my Launcher, ready to provide support from the back, exchanging a glance with Newt, who mirrored my readiness. The two crazies left to defend their immunes back. They must have really trusted us.
Brenda gripped the door handle, her pistol aimed at the opening. With bated breath, I braced myself, my Launcher poised for action, anticipation coiling in my chest. As the door creaked open, revealing nothing but silence beyond, I exchanged a cautious smile with Newt before turning my attention back to the looming unknown.
"Open it." Thomas calmly said. My heart raced at the command.
Brenda swung the door wide and we charged through. As the others scouted the hanger, I kept one eye on the door. Still making sure that no one would follow as in.
I lowered my Launcher after a while and took in the hanger. It was massive. It was built to hold five of the Bergs and even then, it still wouldn't look like it was completely full. The others had stopped their search and cautiously walked to the remaining two Bergs that were parked in their loading spots. Both were spread fear apart from each other. The machines loomed over us. They're battle scars scorched bright and angry into the dull metal. Other than a few cargo crates and workbenches, the rest of the area was nothing but open space.
I distanced myself from the group, drawn to the workbenches like a magnet, eager to uncover any clues they might hold. The dim light cast elongated shadows across the room as I approached, the air heavy with anticipation.
Surveying the workbenches up close, I found little more than scattered pages and assorted tools strewn about. I sifted through the papers with growing frustration, hoping to stumble upon something of significance amidst the jumble of numbers and names scrawled across the pages. Yet, the contents yielded nothing more than mundane records—a logbook detailing the comings and goings of the Bergs and their passengers, devoid of any discernible intrigue. It was a stark contrast to the sleek, high-tech surroundings, leaving me perplexed by the apparent lack of valuable information.
My attention was drawn to the drawers nestled beneath the workbenches, a glimmer of hope igniting within me. With a determined resolve, I attempted to pry them open, but to no avail. Each drawer remained stubbornly sealed, their contents concealed from prying eyes by sturdy locks.
Frustrated by the lack of progress, I returned my focus to the pages spread before me, scouring them for any hidden clues or overlooked details. Perhaps buried within the mundane records lay the key to unravelling the mysteries of this enigmatic place.
"Hey," Minho shouted from the other side of the hanger. I stopped my hunting and looked up to see what his shouts were about. "Over here. Someone's on the-"
He didn't finish his sentence, but his abrupt halt beside a towering crate, Launcher trained on something beyond, spoke volumes. Abandoning the page I had been scrutinizing, I hastened over to where Minho had taken position, the others converging around him before I could reach his side. Thomas leaned in closely behind Minho, eager to catch a glimpse of whatever had caught his attention. I slipped in beside Newt at the rear of the group, our watchful eyes fixed on the unfolding scene.
"Carefully there, buddy," Minho warned. "Nice and easy, no sudden movements or you'll smell like burnt bacon before you know it."
Newt and I exchanged a knowing look, silently acknowledging the seriousness of Minho's warning. With cautious steps, we sidestepped around the crate just in time to witness Brenda embracing a man who lay half-slumped on the floor.
"Jorge."
He's a crank.
"He's a crank," I shouted. I pointed at the man. "Why are you standing there? He's a crank."
I struggled with my Launcher, my fingers trembling with uncertainty. Newt's firm hand halted my fumbling attempts, his voice cutting through the chaos with a stern command.
"Clarke, stop," he urged, his grip unwavering as he prevented me from taking further action. "He's not a Crank. He's immune."
My mind raced with disbelief, grappling with the revelation. "But... but..." I stammered, unable to articulate my thoughts coherently. "He was in the Scorch. He ruled that Crank palace."
Newt's steady gaze bore into mine, his voice steady with conviction. "It was all part of their plan," he explained, his words a lifeline amidst the confusion. As Thomas and Brenda positioned themselves in front of Jorge, their hands resting on their Launchers, I realized the gravity of the situation. Their readiness to intervene underscored the seriousness of the revelation.
"But how can we be sure? How do we know they're not lying?" I protested, my voice tinged with desperation. "WICKED is built on deception. Why should we trust this?"
Newt's expression softened with understanding as he posed a crucial question. "Who do you mean by 'they'?"
I gestured vaguely in the direction of Jorge and Brenda, frustration boiling within me. "Them," I insisted, my uncertainty overshadowed by a burgeoning sense of distrust.
They're cranks. They're gonna kill you.
"Clarke, you know Brenda isn't a Crank," he reasoned, his voice tinged with urgency. "Think about it. Why would she be in the medical facility with the others? It doesn't add up."
His words struck a chord, compelling me to pause and reconsider. Brenda's presence in the medical facility alongside the other immune individuals contradicted everything I had come to associate with WICKED's ruthless schemes. It was a glaring inconsistency that demanded an explanation.
He's lying.
"No!" I screeched. What is happening? Why can't I think straight? "Nothing makes sense."
They're lying. All of them. They want to make sure you are taken away.
"Uh, Newt. I think this is part of the outbursts," Brenda warned.
They're scared of you.
"Shut up!" I shouted back at her. I was not having an outburst. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"
I banged my hands against my head. The voices it had to stop. I couldn't tell what was real and what was not anymore.
I'm real.
An inhuman growl rumbled from deep within my throat, a fog of confusion descending over my senses. I watched in detached horror as my body moved of its own accord, as though I were a mere spectator to its actions. Struggling to maintain control, I collapsed to my knees, the strength draining from my limbs with alarming speed. Clutching at my chest, I tore at the pages that seemed to sear into my skin, doubling over in a fetal position as waves of agony washed over me.
"What's happening?" I choked out, my voice strained and unrecognizable, as though it belonged to another. "Get out."
The words escaped me in a desperate plea, a futile attempt to ward off whatever malevolent force had taken hold of me.
No.
"Clarke?" Newt rushed by my side and placed a hand over my back. "It's okay. Take deep breaths. Take deep breaths."
I followed his command. Doing the best that I could to take as many breaths as I could. I had to remain calm. I had to calm myself down. To much brain activity.
Be calm.
A minute passed.
Calm down.
Two.
Stay really fing calm.
Three minutes.
"I'm fine," I suddenly asserted to Newt, pushing myself up from the floor and brushing him off. "I remember now. I just... forgot."
Glancing over my shoulder, I caught sight of the worried expressions etched on the faces of the others. Brenda had returned to Jorge's side, tending to him, while the rest of the group remained cautious, their trust in me still tentative.
Stepping away from the group, I sought solace in solitude, needing a moment to process the bewildering events that had just unfolded. This was uncharted territory for me, a confrontation with a darkness I hadn't known existed within myself. If indeed, it was truly me fighting back.
Moving past the remaining Berg, I found a secluded spot behind it, reclining against the cold floor as I sought to gather my thoughts. I wasn't ready to sleep, but I needed to replenish my energy, to regain some semblance of composure.
As I waited for the tears of embarrassment and confusion to come, I was met with a strange emptiness instead. Perhaps the emotions lay dormant, waiting to resurface when Dr. Adlai and Chiyoko arrived—an impending scenario I wasn't eager to face. But for now, I remained enveloped in a quiet stillness, grappling with the unsettling aftermath of my encounter with whatever darkness lurked within me.
"Clarke?" Poe's gentle voice broke through the heavy silence as he emerged from around the side of the Berg.
"Don't come near," I instinctively raised my hand, halting his approach. "I'm too far gone."
"I don't care," Poe declared firmly, undeterred as he continued to advance toward me. "You're my friend."
"Thanks," I sniffled, wiping away the traces of tears and mucus. Maybe I wasn't as cold-hearted as I had feared.
"Everything okay here?" Poe inquired, settling beside me.
"I suppose," I mused, though the weight of my own inner turmoil lingered heavily. "I won't be a problem for much longer anyway."
Poe arched an eyebrow, concern etched into his features. "What's that supposed to mean?"
I shrugged, dismissing the ominous undertones of my words. "I'm not sure," I admitted, unwilling to burden him with more worries. "Where's Newt?"
"He thought someone with a clear head might be able to check on you," Poe explained. "No point putting two crazies together."
I offered no amusement at his attempt at levity. "Why is everyone acting so normal around Jorge?" I questioned, my confusion resurfacing.
Poe's disbelief was palpable. "Do you not remember what Newt just told you?"
"Uh," I paused, struggling to recall the recent conversation. "Yeah, he was immune. Sorry, I don't know why I forgot that."
"Hmm," Poe regarded me carefully. "Brenda informed us that he's a pilot and our ticket out of here."
"So he's on our side," I concluded, a glimmer of hope igniting within me.
"Most certainly," Poe confirmed, his gaze drifting to the others as they prepared the Berg for take-off. "We better get moving. They're prepping the Berg for take-off. I also overheard Jorge mentioning that the others escaped with another pilot. Maya's not taking it well. She thinks Maggie abandoned her."
As Poe rose to his feet, a sudden realization seized me, and I reached out to grasp his wrist. "Poe?" I implored. "I've been an awful friend. I've never asked about you. You've only been asking about me."
Poe paused, his gaze distant as he struggled to contain the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "I miss her so much," he confessed in a hushed tone. "I just want to see her again, to feel her warmth, to see her smile. I'm lost without her. The pain..." He gestured to his chest, his voice trembling. "The pain is becoming unbearable. I don't know how to endure it. I don't know how to make it stop."
I stood up and enveloped Poe in a comforting embrace from the side. "I'll help you," I promised earnestly. "Once we're free, I'll be there for you every step of the way."
Before he could respond, a deafening alarm blared overhead, causing my heart to lurch in my chest.
The noise seemed even louder in the hanger than it had been in the corridors. It echoed off the high walls and ceilings. Wide-eyed, Poe gestured urgently toward the scene beyond the wing, his expression filled with alarm. With a swift motion, he shoved me further behind the Berg, shielding me from potential danger.
"Guards have arrived!" Poe's voice rang out, barely audible over the blaring alarm. "I don't think they saw us!"
"We need to get back to the others!" I responded as loudly as I could. Trapped behind the Berg, separated from our companions by the vast expanse of the hangar, our options dwindled with each passing moment. It was yet another predicament that I had unwittingly contributed too. Another situation that I managed to screw up.
In an instant, the sound of glass shattering and electricity firing filled the room. Poe thrusted me down on to my knees and gestured toward the side of the Berg. We crouched low, huddling around the front of the massive engine, our bodies pressed close to the metal hull in an effort to remain inconspicuous amidst the chaos. As I peered around the corner of the Berg, the full extent of the mayhem came into view.
Arcs of lightning danced erratically across the room, casting eerie shadows amidst the crates. The crackling energy dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, followed by the relentless barrage of gunfire hammering against the wooden barriers. In the brief lull between volleys, the room fell into an unsettling silence, punctuated only by the shuffling footsteps and terse commands of the approaching soldiers.
Poe pressed a finger to his lips, his eyes darting nervously as the soldiers drew nearer, their boots echoing ominously against the metal floor. If they discovered us, we were defenceless, having left our weapons behind in a misguided attempt to avoid further violence. Another regrettable decision in a string of mistakes.
Minho's voice echoed from across the hangar, prompting a renewed exchange of gunfire. A grenade detonated nearby, sending shockwaves rippling through the air and leaving a ringing sensation reverberating in my ears. Amidst the chaos, I watched as guards fell, clutching their wounds, while others scrambled for cover.
Concentrating on the commotion in front, it was the luck of Poe that we weren't spotted. He sensed that the guards were attempting to reposition themselves. In a moment, Poe had shoved me from our hiding spot and half-dragged me to hide behind the outer part of the engine. In full view of the others, but still hidden from the enemy.
Figures darted up from behind the crates and raced across the outer wall of the hanger to the closet Berg. I locked eyes with Newt, silently urging him to join them, despite my desperate desire for his assistance. With a wordless exchange, I motioned for him to go, hoping he understood the gravity of the situation. Thankfully, Maya grasped the situation intuitively, pulling him into action and guiding him toward safety inside the Berg.
"I see only one approaching," Poe's voice barely audible as he whispered into my ear. "We can take him. Then make a break for the crates."
I nodded in agreement, my heart racing with anticipation. Poe raised a hand, signalling for me to wait for his signal. With a silent determination, he began to count down, his fingers ticking off each passing second.
Three.
Two.
One.
Poe and I exploded from our cover behind the engine, our movements synchronized in a swift and decisive assault. Poe charged forward, tackling the unsuspecting guard to the ground, while I seized the opportunity to snatch the raised Launcher from the man's grasp. With a skilful motion, I swung the butt of the weapon, connecting with the guard's face before swiftly pivoting to aim the Launcher at the corner where more guards were rushing to reinforce their comrade.
Without hesitation, I unleashed a barrage of firepower, the crackling energy of the Launcher lighting up the dimly lit hangar. Backing up to maximize our range, I continued to fire until the ammunition ran dry, forcing the guards to seek cover from the unexpected onslaught.
Sensing the need to retreat, Poe grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back, propelling us into a sprint toward the safety of the crates. As we ran, Poe snatched the Launcher from me, swiftly replacing the cartridge and resuming his assault on the now repositioned guards.
"We can't stay here!" I shouted over the volley of attacks. "The crates won't hold for much longer!"
"The ramp is still down! They not gonna leave us!" Poe yelled back, his words punctuated by the sharp cracks of gunfire as he continued to lay down cover fire. "But we don't have much time!"
The looming hatch of the Berg stood open, its metal slope beckoning us to safety. Another explosion rocked the far end of the hangar, the sound reverberating through the air as a grim reminder of the impending danger.
"Look!" I pointed to the ground beside Poe. "We should throw that then run!"
Poe eyed the object warily. "Have you ever used a grenade before?"
"No! But it can't be too difficult to figure out," I replied, hastily picking up the object and giving it a quick inspection. Determining that the pin on the top needed to be removed, I braced myself for what lay ahead.
"We'll make it, won't we?" I asked him, a littler quieter.
Poe nodded, his expression determined.
I took a deep breath, my fingers trembling slightly as I grasped the grenade. With a swift motion, I pulled the pin from the grenade and hurled it in the general direction of the guards.. "Now, go!"
As the explosive soared through the air, I burst from behind the crates and charged toward the open Berg, Poe at my side. The others had reappeared at the ramp, unleashing a volley of gunfire to cover our escape.
A chaotic symphony of weapons fire filled the hangar, blending with crackling electricity and billowing smoke. It became increasingly difficult for either side to aim accurately as the air crackled with tension.
I pushed myself to run faster, adrenaline coursing through my veins with each pounding step. Bullets whizzed dangerously close, narrowly missing me by mere inches. Lightning danced across the floor, while bullets ricocheted off the metal walls of the hangar. Smoke twisted and swirled, obscuring my vision.
With the entrance of the Berg now within reach, I pushed my body to its limits, ignoring the searing pain in my legs. A bullet grazed my leg, hot searing pain shooting up. I tripped over my foot and stumbled to the ground. My hands and wrists taking the full weight of the impact. They screamed in agony as bullets pinged above me, missing each time thanks to the cloud of smoke that swirled around.
A cry of frustration escaped my lips as I struggled to regain my footing. Sensing my plight, Poe swiftly darted back, lifting me from the ground without hesitation. Without pausing to allow me to regain my balance, he propelled us both forward, his determination unwavering as we raced toward the safety of the Berg.
As we approached, Maya emerged, her weapon unleashing a relentless barrage against the encroaching soldiers while she steadied herself, ready to assist us onto the ramp.
Across the hangar, Jorge had initiated the engine ignition, the low hum escalating into a thunderous roar as the thrusters surged to life. The entire craft quivered with power, its vibrations reverberating through the ground beneath our feet.
Every muscle in my body screamed with exhaustion, the noises of the battleground piercing my ears.
The Berg's ramp rose from the ground as the ship was ready to take off. Maya still fired her weapon, along with the Minho and Newt. I glimpsed Minho tossing ammunition to Maya as she swiftly reloaded her weapon, ensuring a continuous onslaught against our adversaries.
The trio gradually retreated as the ramp ascended higher. By the time we reached it, it stood at head height, a daunting obstacle in our path. Summoning all my strength, I leaped for the edge, but it was only with Poe's assistance that I managed to haul myself over the side.
Above, Maya stood as a valiant guardian, steadfastly fending off any threats from the guards with her unyielding barrage of gunfire.
I bent over the side of the ramp and extended my hand to Poe, offering him a lifeline as the Berg continued to rise. It was almost 6ft in the air after I had scrambled on. It was even higher now.
Poe steadied himself, then leaped to grasp the edges of the rapidly rising ramp. His fingers barely caught hold, and I quickly gripped the back of his shirt, anchoring him securely. With a determined grimace, he pulled himself up, managing to hoist his chest onto the edge, but struggling to hook his legs over the lip as the ramp began to angle shut.
I braced myself, along with Maya, against the ramp's incline, fighting against the onslaught of bullets and electricity that whizzed past. After a tense struggle, Poe finally managed to secure his footing, but the ramp was now at a precarious angle, making the ascent even more challenging.
"Come on," I urged through gritted teeth, tugging at his shirt as we rose higher, nearly 15 feet above the ground. There was no room for error now.
Supporting him as best I could, I felt a sudden, searing pain shoot through my hand, followed by an intense heat. With a yelp, I instinctively released my grip on Poe's shirt.
He instantly went limp. His head drooped down, his body swaying with the motion of the Berg.
Poe slipped from the edge of the ramp in a matter of seconds. I reached out to grab with both hands his arm to stop him from falling. It was no use.
Poe slipped from my grasp and toppled over the side, landing on the concrete ground with a loud crunch.
All I heard was Maya's screams as we descended away. Leaving Poe behind.