“Crashed” Part 17
The palm beam glimmered.
Just as she feared, the energy was insufficient to generate a force strong enough to erase the animal. She forced what little power remained into the emitter and triggered the charge.
The beam struck the dog.
The animal dropped.
But it had not been erased.
Cellima grabbed the animal’s jaws with both hands and, with every ounce of strength left in her body, forced its mouth open until its teeth tore free from her leg.
The dog lay motionless.
Stunned.
For how long, she had no way of knowing.
She was free from its grip now.
She had to move.
Her energy levels were fading rapidly. She turned, but she could no longer run.
Escape, now, would be slow.
She hadn’t traveled more than a hundred feet when she heard it—the sound of the military.
They were close. Too close.
And she was vulnerable—more vulnerable than ever now.
The animal had severed the circuits that allowed the cloaking sequence.
The suit was nearly out of energy. It had reverted to its pre-energized state—heavier, rigid, and far more difficult to move in.
She was losing life’s blood.
With every step she took, the pain grew more excruciating. Her movements slowed.
And now… the military had almost caught up with her.
Patty… Ken…
She sent the desperate plea with the last of her strength, hoping beyond hope they would receive it—that they were close enough to help.
“She’s still alive, Ken,” Patty said, a hint of relief in her voice.
“Yes, honey. I heard her,” Ken replied quietly. “She’s in real trouble now.”
Patty and Ken had pulled their truck onto the shoulder of the road, away from the gathering crowd. They were already a hundred feet or more into the woods when they picked up her signal.
They heard the dog clearly.
Then nothing.
Nothing but Cellima’s desperate cry for help.
Without hesitation, they pushed deeper into the woods, hoping they were still moving toward the source of the sound.
They didn’t know what they were going to do.
They only knew one thing.
Cellima needed them.
And they had to find her.
Patty froze.
“Ken… over here.”
He pushed through the brush beside her and saw it.
Cellima lay motionless against the base of a fallen tree, her suit torn, dark blood soaking the ground beneath her.
Ken dropped to his knees beside her.
“Is she—”
Patty closed her eyes for a moment, reaching out.
“No,” she whispered.
“She’s alive… but barely.”
Ken looked back toward the direction of the soldiers’ voices echoing through the trees.
“We’ve got to move.”
Together they lifted her carefully. Even unconscious, her body felt impossibly light.
They had been lucky.
The truck was less than two hundred feet away.
Neither of them spoke as they carried her through the woods.
Behind them, the sounds of the search grew louder.
They reached the truck.
And minutes later, they were gone.
Cellima never woke during the drive.
By the time they reached the hotel room, the blood loss had taken what little strength she had left.
Ken closed the door behind them.
Patty looked down at her with quiet dread.
“She needs help,” she said softly.
“Real help.”