"Now take off the bag. Let's see what you've got there," said the one who brought me in, pulling out a knife.
The others drew their weapons too a pipe, a crowbar… the last one held an old hunting knife. The most dangerous was behind me, armed with a blade. He'd have to be the first to go.
"So you don't know Eric," I said, cursing myself for not realizing sooner. I'd try to talk my way out. "Maybe you think I'm an easy target. But you'd be better off backing away."
"Did you hear that? Haha! There's four of us. What are you gonna do?" the "guide" smirked. "Come on, take off your backpack and we'll let you go."
I had a Glock. Ending this with four shots sounded like a decent idea, but the gun was buried deep under my clothes. They definitely wouldn't give me the chance to reach it. Though I doubted any of these guys had real combat training. Worst case, I'd try to handle them with a knife.
"Fine, I can pay you with ration cards," I said, slowly undoing the buttons on my jacket, hoping to reach the gun. Maybe the threat alone would shut them up.
"Lester, go hold him," the guide said. Looked like he'd gotten suspicious.
There was no time left. I had to act now. I spun around and lunged at the one guarding the door. I yanked out my knife and drove the blade into his gut. He screamed and doubled over; I shoved him to the floor and turned just in time to see another one swing a pipe at me. I couldn't dodge. I put up a block the blow slammed into my forearm, forcing me to grit my teeth.
They all rushed me at once, enraged over their friend's death. A crowbar strike came from the right; I almost felt the bone crack. In the same moment, another knife was coming at me. Blocking the pipe strike, I caught the knife-wielder's arm. My own blade sank into his throat. The whole fight didn't even last ten seconds before two of them were dead.
"Bastard!" screamed the last one as he charged me. I tried to stab him too, but he grabbed my arms. I pushed down on him; he stumbled and fell to the floor. I almost drove the knife into his chest, but he held me off.
"Fucking asshole, get off me! Derrick, get him off!" he yelled, straining to keep my knife away.
I tried to shift the blade. Someone grabbed me by the collar and yanked me back. They held me from behind. The one on the ground got up, grabbed the pipe, and attacked me with wide, furious swings. I stabbed the guy holding me.
"A-ah-ah!" he howled, loosening his grip.
Gathering the last of my strength, I hurled myself at the one in front of me. We crashed into each other, wrestling. I head-butted him, twisted his arms, and shoved my blade into his stomach but he grabbed the knife, keeping me from pulling it out. A strike to his throat made him loosen his grip and I plunged the knife under his ribs several times. My hands and his torso were drenched in blood.
The next moment, something smashed into my head. The world dimmed; the walls swirled. I collapsed, unable to understand what was happening for a few seconds.
When my senses returned, I saw the last one still standing limping toward me, holding his side. He bent down and picked up my knife. His eyes burned with the urge to kill.
"You filthy piece of shit… I'm gonna gut you," he snarled, stepping closer.
He raised the knife. At that moment, writhing as if in pain, I rolled onto my side and finally got a grip on the pistol. My hand rose, the gun aimed directly at him. Terror flashed in his eyes then the shot rang out, tearing through his skull.
I forced myself up, swaying. I had to get out. Fast. Holstering the gun, I crawled toward the boarded window. With one final burst of strength, I knocked out the planks blocking my exit. Falling outside, I collapsed onto the cold asphalt, wheezing.
I tried to stand, but my legs trembled and refused to obey.
"Victor… Victor," I heard a muffled voice. Someone appeared before me, but their outline blurred and flickered. They grabbed me and helped me up. Leaning on them, I moved forward.
Eventually, the daze wore off and my vision cleared. Looked like I had a concussion. I realized we were descending into a basement. And then I saw the same girl who had been behind the counter earlier.
"Why did you bring him here?" she asked sharply.
"He's my friend," Eric replied.
Disapproval was written all over her face. Still, she opened the door. They sat me down on a couch.
"FEDRA is going crazy. He killed three with a knife and shot one. If they find us and the weapons, they'll drag us outside the wall and execute us," she said, trying to hide her anxiety.
"He actually did us a favor. Derrick and his crew were a pain in everyone's ass," Eric said.
"And what of it? Even if he killed them three times over," she snapped. "We're never getting outside the wall now. I bet FEDRA will search every corner for weapons and for him."
"We'll talk later," Eric said quietly, motioning for her to step away.
She shot me an angry look, snorted, and left the room.
"You really stirred up a goddamn storm, Victor," Eric exhaled, sitting next to me. "I knew you were tough, but taking down four guys alone… damn."
"What the hell were they thinking… going after me…" I muttered. My words slurred, and my left hand felt numb again. The parasite's infection was spreading. The last thing that helped was Drug B, but I only had enough for four more doses and I hadn't been able to find any more. I had the instructions, but I wasn't a biologist; half of it made no sense.
"You flashed food around, and you look like… well, someone worth robbing. That bag of yours looked stuffed," Eric said.
"Here. I wouldn't be able to sell any of it here anyway," I said, handing him my backpack.
"Damn, you've got real treasure in here," he said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and inhaling the smell. "Good cigarettes. Worth a lot. Alright, I'm glad to see you, but what brought you into the city? You said you didn't want to live in the quarantine zone."
"I'm looking for the Fireflies," I said.
"Shh," Eric whispered, glancing around. "That's a death sentence here. Everything went to hell recently. There was a riot in the city people armed with sticks rushed the soldiers, and the streets ran with blood…" His voice trembled with fear.
"So they killed all of them?" I asked.
"I don't know for sure," he admitted. "They say the main instigator was shot on the spot. Some supposedly survived, so they tightened document checks and raids. I have no idea how you managed to sneak in without getting caught. You're damn lucky."
"Thanks for helping me," I said.
"Don't mention it, brother," Eric smiled. "You had my back on runs. I owe you."
I heard a noise outside, somewhere above us. Eric listened, left the room, and carefully climbed up to peek through a narrow crack. He stood tense, searching for danger. Finding none, he waited, and after about an hour things quieted down.
"I barely talked them into it," the girl snapped as she came down the stairs.
"Sarah, relax," Eric said.
"I gave them two bottles of whiskey," she said with a sour expression.
"For the trouble, you can take half of what's in the backpack," I muttered.
"We don't need your crap," she shot back sharply. Eric walked over, took her hand, and whispered something to her. She glared at him and walked off.
"Looks like your wife," I said.
"Almost," Eric smiled. "She likes to argue, but she's kind. Since you're here, I'll help you however I can. You said you're looking for Fireflies… I remember a few people who were involved in the riot. I'll ask around," he said, thinking it over.
We talked a bit, and I started to feel drained. Leaning back on the couch, I closed my eyes. I squeezed my left hand no sensation at all. I pinched it and felt nothing.