Chapter 29: Extraction

The old railway station loomed ahead, its rusting frame silhouetted against the pale light of dawn. Gabriel motioned for the group to stop, his sharp eyes scanning the area. The survivors huddled close, their faces pale with exhaustion and fear.

“This is it,” Gabriel said, his voice low. “The extraction point. Let’s hope the rest of the transport team got here ahead of us.”

The faint rumble of an engine confirmed his hopes. As they approached, they spotted a large transport vehicle parked near the station, its armored body a reassuring sight. A handful of transport team members stood guard, their weapons raised as they watched the horizon.

One of the guards stepped forward, a tall woman with a no-nonsense demeanor. “Gabriel? Ava?” she asked, her voice brisk.

Gabriel nodded. “We’ve got survivors and supplies. What’s your status?”

“Vehicle’s operational, but space is tight,” the woman replied. “We picked up the survivors from the camp, and luckily, there are enough gas masks for everyone. But the barricades here won’t hold for long. Mutants have been sighted nearby.”

Ava exchanged a glance with Gabriel. “We need to get moving,” she said. “How long until you’re ready to go?”

“We can leave as soon as everyone’s loaded,” the woman replied. “But we’ll need cover. The mutants won’t wait politely for us to finish.”

The transport team worked quickly, helping the survivors into the vehicle and securing the supplies. Gabriel and Ava stayed near the perimeter, their weapons ready as the first faint chittering noise crept through the silence, sending a chill down their spines.

“They’re coming,” Gabriel said, his voice grim. He turned to Ava. “You ready?”

Ava nodded, though her body still ached from her earlier transformation. “Keep the door clear for me.”

The blood on Ava’s blade had dried since the factory. She worked the dressing loose and wet the edge again, using only what the reopened wound would give.

The first mutants emerged from the shadows, their grotesque forms scuttling toward the station. Gabriel fired his rifle, the sharp cracks cutting through the morning air. Spores rose where the shots tore mutant tissue. The armed survivors kept their masks sealed and fired from beside the vehicle while the others climbed aboard. Ava moved alongside Gabriel, her blade glinting as she struck down a mutant that lunged too close.

“Keep them off us!” one of the transport team members shouted from the vehicle. “Almost done here!”

The battle intensified as more mutants poured in, their screeches echoing off the station walls. Ava fought with a mix of precision and desperation, the fresh blood still wet along her blade. Each strike sent another creature crumpling to the ground, but the effort left her trembling.

Gabriel’s voice cut through the chaos. “Fall back! They’re closing in too fast!”

Ava hesitated, her instincts screaming to stay and fight. But she caught the look in Gabriel’s eyes—a mix of determination and fear. Reluctantly, she retreated toward the transport vehicle, her blade still ready.

At the step, her knee failed to lift high enough. The guard caught her elbow and hauled her the rest of the way. Ava let herself be pulled. Her first impulse was to apologize; her second was to hold on until she was certain the floor would stay beneath her.

“Don’t let go yet,” she said.

The guard tightened her grip until Ava was seated.

“Everyone’s in!” the tall guard shouted. “Let’s move!”

Gabriel covered their retreat, his rifle firing until the last possible moment. He jumped onto the vehicle as it began to pull away, the mutants clawing at its armored sides.

Inside, the survivors sat in tense silence, their breaths heavy with relief. Ava leaned against the wall, her blade resting on her lap. She glanced at Gabriel, who gave her a faint nod.

“We made it,” he said, his voice low.

“This time,” Ava replied. She laid the knife flat and pressed fresh gauze over her palm. Across the aisle, the child from the garage slept against her mother, the same blanket pulled to her chin.

I don’t want to be brave again today.

Ava watched the blanket shift with the vehicle. She had expected saving people to produce a feeling she could recognize as good. Mostly she wanted water and for nobody to ask her to stand again.

The child’s mother reached across the aisle with a flask. Ava drank, careful not to touch the rim with her bandaged hand. For once she accepted something without first explaining what she could offer in return. The woman took the flask back and tucked the blanket around the child’s feet.