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A deep boom sounded, close enough to shake the ground under them but far enough not to threaten them directly.
“That was the direction of the main meeting rooms,” Mal’ik said.
Patrick nodded and spun on his heel. “Yeah. We gotta go.” He put his hand to his ear. “Report.”
The three of them picked up their pace, winding through hallways and arcades and around buildings, into a part of the complex Oliver had never been to. Patrick and Mal’ik barked orders and questions into their mouthpieces.
Two more explosions in quick succession rocked the area, and Patrick came to a sudden stop in front of them. “You’re sure? You’re absolutely sure? Fucking chase him then! And tell everyone else to be on the lookout.”
“Go,” Mal’ik ordered. He came up behind Oliver and put his hand on Oliver’s shoulder. Oliver jumped when he felt skin against his and looked down to see that his clothes were torn, bloody from scrapes and scratches that he was only now starting to feel. Dirt and dust coated him, and Mal’ik’s hand on his shoulder mixed it with his own sweat and turned it into a grime.
Oliver shuddered and pulled away.
Mal’ik glanced at him briefly and dropped his hand, then jutted his chin at Patrick. “Go. Help them. I’ll get him to safety.”
Patrick nodded sharply and took off at a run in the direction of the last explosion.
Mal’ik didn’t grab Oliver again, just nudged his shoulder as he passed. “Follow me.”
They moved faster without Patrick scouting ahead, but they passed more people, mostly klah’eel, some rushing this way and that, and some standing and gaping at the columns of billowing black smoke rising into the air.
They got to a large building with many doors in a few minutes. It looked like a barracks or housing complex of some kind, and Mal’ik led Oliver to a room on the first floor in the middle of the building. Mal’ik glanced quickly over both his shoulders, then input the door codes. He grabbed Oliver’s wrist, pulled him inside, and shut the door behind him.
It wasn’t until the door slid closed that Oliver realized how loud it had been out there. Alarms, sirens, people yelling and screaming, the ringing of his own ears, and the sound of their pounding footsteps. The door sealed it all away, and everything suddenly felt still and quiet.
It made Oliver’s own ragged breath seem very loud and gave his mind a chance to fall back to what had just happened.
The ground ripping out from under his feet.
Falling through the air.
The high-pitched ring in his ears and the inability to breathe.
Being crushed by stone—no. Oliver shook his head. No, that hadn’t been this time. He knelt down on the ground as his knees shook. He pressed his palm to the carpeted floor, feeling the solidity of it beneath him.
“Hey, Oliver.” Mal’ik’s voice came to him slowly through the air as though it were water. Oliver looked up to see Mal’ik crouched in front of him. Mal’ik reached out a hand and touched his jaw with the pads of his fingers. It emphasized the grit covering his skin, and Oliver cringed.
“I need a shower.” Oliver gulped and pushed himself up to his feet. He swayed but didn’t fall. “I need to be clean.”
“This way.” Mal’ik didn’t question him, just turned and led him deeper into the rooms. Oliver didn’t see his surroundings. He just focused on Mal’ik’s broad shoulders and keeping his breath whooshing steadily in and out of his chest.
He heard the sound of water flowing from a showerhead just before he stepped into the bathroom. Mal’ik pulled the shower door open for him, then gestured to a towel on the toilet’s lid.
“I’ll be just outside, alright?” Mal’ik stepped forward to look into Oliver’s eyes.
Oliver met them and nodded. “Alright.”
Oliver didn’t wait to see Mal’ik leave. He stripped off his ruined clothes, stepped into the lukewarm spray of the shower, and closed his eyes.
* * *
Mal’ik didn’t close the bathroom door all the way. He didn’t think Oliver would collapse or have a breakdown, but he wanted to hear if he did, so he left it cracked.
Patrick had cut comms a few minutes ago—worried the torvar might have wriggled into one of their team members’ bodies—and so now Mal’ik could do nothing but wait. He hadn’t heard any more explosions, but he wasn’t assuming the all clear until Patrick himself arrived to tell him so.
He hoped Lar’a had gotten herself, Serihk, and Bryant out. He hadn’t seen her since she’d been hurrying down the gangway right before it was blown to smithereens.
Along with Oliver. Mal’ik let out a shuddering breath. Nearly. Nearly along with Oliver. Mal’ik looked back at the bathroom to see steam falling through the crack of the door.
