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They need her to be at the right place at the right time, or they have no chance. Mack will die, LeGrand will die, and then what point does Ava have? She finally found the borders of herself again, finally believes she can fill in the vast hollow that took claim of so much of her. Finally found a purpose and a family, two things that had been taken away from her right alongside a functioning leg.
She would give almost anything for that old leg now. Her knee trembles and almost gives out, her boot-encased metal ankle sliding dangerously far ahead of her. She stumbles to catch up.
Head down. Do the work. She’s done harder things than this, hasn’t she?
Has she?
Probably not. Fine then, this is the hardest thing she’s ever done, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t do it.
“You are the strongest woman alive,” Maria whispers in her memory, both of them squeezed onto her cot, pressed so close Ava knew exactly where she ended and Maria began because she felt every inch of it.
“But what if I wasn’t?” Ava had whispered, suddenly afraid that if she couldn’t be strong, she couldn’t have Maria.
“Impossible.” Maria had squeezed Ava’s bicep, laughing when Ava flexed as a matter of pride. “Even without these,” she said, pinching, “even without any of this, you’d still be the strongest woman alive.”
Ava is so tired of being strong. It hadn’t saved Maria, and it hadn’t saved her own soul, and why should she have to be so strong? The world demanded constant strength from women like her, displays of infinite grace and patience, proof of why they deserved to—
Ava stumbles again, and this time she doesn’t catch it. She only manages to twist at the last second so the generator doesn’t fall on top of her and pin her to the ground.
“Fuck!” she screams, face pressed against countless seasons of fallen leaves. An earthy scent, dirt and decay and life all in one, floods her nose and invades her mouth, trying to claim her.
Ava lies there for one second. Ten. Thirty. A minute.
Just because she shouldn’t have to be so damn strong doesn’t mean she isn’t. Ava stands up. She grabs one of the cage bars of the generator, and she starts dragging it.
She moves without thinking, without checking her progress, mind on nothing but her goal. Not where she’s going right now or what she’ll have to do when she gets there, but the goal beyond that. Mack, and LeGrand, and freedom.
Her pocket with Ian’s book bounces against her leg, while other pockets jingle, flush with cash and Linda’s family jewelry—taken as vengeance for how many times her fucking saint of a mother was accused of stealing jewelry from the houses she cleaned for women like Linda—and her muscles tremble, and her spine aches, and her knee won’t move right, and her ankle isn’t functioning, and Ava keeps going.
She has no idea how close to the gate she is, and, with her back turned, she doesn’t see the owner of that terribly gaudy jewelry standing beyond it, rifle pointed at Ava’s back.
* * *
—
Mack follows Atrius’s arrows, guided by his ghost. Her arm bleeds, cut by Rosiee’s silver. Maybe because the monster is so close, padding turned to pounding as it matches her pace in terrible ravenous pursuit, but she can feel them with her. All these lost people, who had worked so hard to carve out a place where they could be successful, where they could be famous, where they could be stable, where they could be loved, where they could be safe.
They came here, desperate, lured by the promise of finally winning something, set up to be devoured so people who already had everything would continue having exactly what they already had, what they could have had anyway, what they felt was their due. What they were willing to let fourteen hopeful souls pay for.
Mack can’t remember all their names, but it doesn’t matter. They are no longer her rivals. They are her team. She will win this not in spite of them, but because of them. For them. For Isabella and Logan and Rosiee and Sydney and Atrius and Rebecca and Ian and Christian and beautiful Ava and even Jaden.
And Brandon.
And LeGrand.
And Ava. But she doesn’t run for Ava. She runs toward Ava, trusting absolutely that Ava will be ready.
Another shot cracks through the air, this one much closer, and if Mack wasn’t so focused on running, navigating this maze with a monster right behind her, she would wonder why there was another gunshot when LeGrand was done with his part and should be hurrying to meet them.
* * *
—
If it had been anyone other than Ava, they would have fallen to Linda’s bullet.
But Linda hadn’t counted on the time Ava spent in active combat. The fact that, even with her back turned and her body screaming and her whole mind focused on a singular, impossible task, Ava’s instincts would remember the sound of a rifle being cocked and she would drop to the ground at the exact moment the trigger was pressed.
The shot passes precisely where Ava had been. Linda, in addition to being a bad mother, forgotten ex-wife, and the hopes and dreams of her grandparents utterly filled and wildly failed, is an excellent shot.
Ava rolls, crouching behind the generator.
“Oh, stand up, you worthless animal,” Linda shouts. “Did you think everyone would be fooled into abandoning their posts? I will never abandon mine! This is my birthright, my legacy, and no one is going to take it away from me.” Linda’s naked lips curl back in an ugly sneer, her false teeth, white and straight, standing out against her gray gums. “Stand up and take it like the man you wish you were.”