Natalie Damschroder - Heavy Metal

“What do you want with me?” she demanded. They didn’t answer, and she backed up. The two not on the ground advanced. Her hands shook until she clenched them, chest heaving. She wasn’t equipped for this. She needed metal, something portable to give her strength and hold them off. But they’d be on her before she could get to anything usable.

“Hey!”

The shout came from behind the pair, and they turned.

Riley ran.

…

Sam wasn’t surprised when the young blonde didn’t come back from the restroom. He’d noticed her tension as soon as the latecomers entered the bar. Well, noticed the change in her tension. She hadn’t exactly been relaxed before that. She’d been checking him out from her well-chosen spot in the corner, but not in the way women in here usually checked him out, looking to get free drinks or something more carnal. She’d reminded him of the stray cat behind his house, wanting to approach but wary of his response. He’d offered a treat and then backed off, letting her take her time. She’d sucked down that pop so fast it should have been followed by an epic belch. He was sure she was about to leave without talking to him, but then the trio had come in and spooked her in a different way.

Sam kept polishing glasses and putting them on the shelf, watching the men argue with the woman too quietly for him to hear, even in the otherwise empty bar. He grabbed his keys and subtly locked the till. When the group split up, the woman and one of the men went out the front door, their buddy ambling toward the hall where the bathrooms were. Sam didn’t hesitate. He ignored the baseball bat the owner kept under the bar—he wouldn’t need it—and quickly locked the front door before following the single guy to the back. He took a quick second to check the bathrooms, in case he’d misread the situation and he was just taking a piss before joining his companions, but they were both empty. Sam pushed through the emergency exit and made sure it locked behind him.

His instincts had been dead on. All four people were spotlighted inside the plant’s fence, the trio advancing on the lone young woman. Sam took off running along the fence line. Broken branches and trampled grass told him the others had already gone through this way, and sure enough, the rusty gate latch was broken. Sam wondered if they’d scouted the area before coming inside for their beer, or if they’d just gotten lucky. He knew the gate was here because he made a point of always knowing what was around him. Training and experience weren’t easily forgotten.

He shoved the gate hard against the vines holding it in place and squeezed through the gap. When he was close enough, he shouted. Two of the attackers turned toward him. The other was curled on the ground, holding his dangly bits.

The woman took off across the compound.

Instead of chasing her, the guy still standing stepped toward Sam and swung. He ducked, then landed an uppercut on the guy’s chin. Exhilaration rushed through him as his opponent staggered back. It had been a long, long time since he’d had a good old-fashioned confrontation. He couldn’t hold back a quick grin, bouncing on the balls of his feet, hands loosely curled in front of his shoulders.

“That all ya got?” he taunted, hoping to distract the couple long enough for the young woman to get away.

The man launched himself at Sam with a growl, egged on by his partner’s laugh. Sam didn’t manage to dodge fast enough, and a blow vibrated his skull. He swung again through the pain, and the guy went down on one knee. Sam moved in to shove him flat on his stomach and almost made a fatal mistake—disregarding the woman, especially when her partner was losing.

Light glinted off the canister she swept into position only inches from his eyes. He knew he didn’t have time to move or to squeeze them closed, but he tried. Just before his eyelids slammed together, he saw the blonde standing twenty feet away, a length of something shiny in her right hand, her left hand held toward them, palm out. Then there was a whump , and a puff of air stirred Sam’s hair. The pepper spray he’d been waiting for never hit his eyes.

Raising one hand to block his face, Sam peeked through his fingers. The woman with the spray had disappeared. He spun to look for her and spotted her body lying limp ten feet behind him, sprawled at the foot of the chain-link fence surrounding the property.

“You—” He spun back toward the woman with the pipe just in time to see her heft it and make a pushing motion with her other hand. An invisible wave moved across the distance between her and the attacker now charging toward her. He flew backward and landed with a grunt, rolling over and over until he, too, came up against the fence, clothes twisted around his body.

A bunch of things became clear, and at the same time a million additional questions lined themselves up. The woman was a goddess, metal the source feeding her abilities. But she wasn’t one Sam knew, which was odd. He hadn’t been involved with the Society for a while, but she seemed like she was in her mid-twenties, and he’d have known if there was someone of that age registered with metal as her source. By the way she’d watched him when she first came into the bar, though, she knew who he was. But he couldn’t begin to guess why she was here.

She’d lowered her hand, but even from this far away Sam could tell she was shaking. He walked over to her, keeping half his attention on the people on the ground. “You okay?”

She nodded without looking at him. “Thanks for helping me.”

“Want me to call the police?” He slapped his pocket, annoyed to find it empty. He’d left his phone in the office because he was tired of ignoring calls, and even more tired of feeling guilty about it. “Do you have a phone?”

“No.” She seemed to say it through gritted teeth. “Let them go. I can’t deal with that, too.”

“You sure? I can haul them back to the bar and call from there.”

She finally met his gaze, her eyes crinkling with faint amusement. “You think so?”

“’Course,” he scoffed at her doubt, mainly to hide his own. He only had two hands.

But she shook her head. “Maybe they’ll think twice about trying to mug anyone after this.”

Sam didn’t think it was that simple, and he’d place bets she didn’t, either. But it was two o’clock in the morning, and it was her choice.

The guy who’d already been on the ground when Sam arrived groaned and freed his hands from between his legs, struggling to get to his feet. Sam strode over and hauled him up by the shoulder of his jacket.

“Get your friends and get out of here.”

He nodded, having to look up so far to see Sam’s face that the skin at the back of his neck gathered into folds. When Sam released him, he limped to the other guy and helped him up, then the two scrambled over to the woman and dragged her to her feet. In moments they were gone, their shuffling, heavy gaits fading into the darkness.

The blonde stood next to Sam now, still clutching her pipe. “Where are they going?”

Sam frowned at her. “There’s a gate down there. How did you get in?”

“I climbed over the fence.”

Of course she did. Sam tilted his head to look at the top of it, sixteen feet up. Impressive.

“My name is Sam,” he offered. If he’d guessed right, she already knew that, but he was curious how she’d respond.

She pivoted and faced him. Her shudders had slowed, but she still clutched the pipe as if someone would try to rip it out of her hand. “Riley.”

“Are you okay?” he asked again.

She shook herself, snapping into alertness, her eyes focusing. “Yeah. Yes, I’m okay. They didn’t hurt me.” She winced and looked down at her palms. “Mostly.”