Once I saw that the Reaver had spotted us, I did the first smart thing I could think of: I grabbed the kid and rolled off the stack of containers. The kid weighed less than I expected and, thankfully, didn’t slow me down too much.
I landed on my feet and quickly made my way deeper into the maze. Just like with any predator, I hoped that changing our position would buy us some time, at least. But when I looked back, I could still see its outline on its perch, completely unmoving. It hadn't rushed toward us. Instead, it crouched down and let out a warbling scream of challenge.
Imagine the sound of shredding metal mixed with a human shriek, and you'd have a pretty accurate description of what that sounded like.
I turned a corner and slowed to a stop, dropping the kid before peeking around to see if the Reaver was on our tail. It stood like a motionless shadow, and even from this distance, I could sense that it knew exactly where we were. So why wasn’t it coming for us?
We had to keep moving, so I reached for the boy, but this time he wriggled just out of my grasp. Great, we were back to being best buddies. But I really didn’t have time for this. Everything I’d learned about Reavers in my last year at the Rose Garden taught me that they were not to be messed with. I wasn’t planning to stick around and find out if our curriculum had exaggerated.
“Kid, we aren’t going to do this again,” I said, even though I knew he didn’t understand a word. “I’m getting the hell out of here, and you either come with me or don’t—your choice.”
Was I being brutal with a kid? Maybe. But you know what’s more brutal? Getting chewed on by a freaking Reaver.
“Yajib ealayk aldhahab 'iilaa alzilal,” the boy said, pointing deeper into the yard.
He suddenly grabbed my hand and started pulling me in that direction, but I shook my head and pointed roughly toward where I thought the gate was.
“I’m going in that direction,” I say. “We stand a better chance if we can get out of this maze.”
The boy shakes his head almost pleadingly. “Nah, nakhtabi fi alzilali, mithlahum.”
“I don’t know what you’re saying, kid. I’m sorry,” I reply, offering my hand one last time. “Please come with me.”
The boy stares at my hand for a moment, then looks up at me intently. I see resignation in his eyes. It hits me then: I wasn’t going to leave him at the mercy of this monster. I was going to save him, even if it meant putting myself in mortal danger.
The Reaver shrieks again, and I glance back just in time to see it leap. I realize why it hadn’t bothered to chase us down at first. The Reaver soared through the air like an acrobatic bat from the depths of hell, blotting out the night sky as it effortlessly covered more than half the distance between where it had been standing and where we were currently huddled, landing almost noiselessly like a malevolent shadow on a nearby container.
I would have given it a standing ovation if it weren’t trying to kill me and a ten-year-old kid.
Without waiting for further conversation, I grab the boy and hightail it deeper into the maze. I head towards the southernmost perimeter, then hook left and make a wide bee-line eastward. The boy tags along, struggling to keep pace with my longer strides, but he seems to understand our dire situation and doesn’t pull away or make a sound.
A shriek comes from somewhere behind us, and I immediately cut right between two containers, not bothering to look back. It was on our trail, but maybe I could try to lose it in this maze by making our movements as irregular as possible while keeping the exit in sight at all times.
I slow to a stop to gather my bearings but quickly realize I am hopelessly lost.
“Sa'usead,” the boy says, shaking free of my grip and scrambling up the side of a nearby container like an agile monkey. In seconds, he’s over the side and gone.
“Kid!” I whisper urgently. Shit! I consider going after him but decide against it and try to move in the general direction I think the exit is. I begin to worry that the Reaver may have gotten him when a small, lithe body drops in front of me, gesturing toward the left.
“Kid,” my relief is palpable in my voice. “Thought I lost you for a minute.”
The boy cocks his head at me, probably puzzled by my dazzling smile in such dire circumstances. He waves toward the left again and this time shakes his head urgently.
“Hadhih al-tariqat laysat jayidatan,” he says.
“Hadhi, jay ten what?” I respond, totally clueless about what he said, but I decide to trust him and adjust my course. It seems like forever, but I finally catch a glimpse of the gate.
“Come on,” I say, careful to stay close to the shadows. It’s been a while since I heard the Reaver’s cry, and I hope that means I lost it with my little “Jason Bourne” move back there, though I’m not exactly optimistic.
We reach the last line of containers, and from this distance, I immediately see a huge lock and chain on the gate. Nothing my Breach rune can’t handle. The real problem was the 50, maybe 70 feet of brightly lit space separating the maze of containers from the gates, like a concrete pond.
There’s no way stepping into that pool of light wasn’t immediately going to give away our position.
“Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do,” I crouch down so I’m eye to eye with the boy, resting both my hands on his little shoulders. “We have to get to the gates.” I point at the gates helpfully.
“I know once we step into that light, we’ll be sitting ducks, but I’m not sure it can be helped. Outside that gate is a parking lot with a couple of cars.”
The boy shifts uncomfortably, so I talk faster. “I can hotwire one of those babies and get us out of here. Easy peasy.”
The boy shakes his head. “La yujad daw'a. Aldaw' si.” He stares at me pointedly. “Alzilal tukhfina.”
I don’t know what he said, but I get the feeling he thinks my plan is a load of crap. I sigh; I really should have taken those extra language courses.
“I know it’s a bad plan, but it’s the best I’ve got,” I say.
The kid shakes his head again. Just then, I hear a soft thump from nearby and the hairs at the back of my neck bristle. Without thinking, I pick the boy up and dive forward in a roll that takes me clear of the mass that lands right where I was standing a few seconds ago.
I roll into a crouch, and as I rise, I let the boy go. That’s when I get my first up-close look at a Reaver. Or better still, that’s when I smell it for the first time. Imagine the devil ate a thousand rotten eggs and then farted in a pile of old, moldy, unwashed clothes that had been worn by a butcher for years. That’s what it smelled like—a combination of rancid odor, sulfur, blood, and decaying flesh. I’m sure my body must have gagged in stasis.
That was the least of my concerns now, as I realize this monster wasn’t 7 or 8 feet tall like they taught us. It was closer to 10 feet and looked like it weighed at least 300 pounds. Its long arms ended in razor-sharp talons that dripped darkness, and even this close, I still couldn’t make out any features on its face, save for its eyes.
Our staredown seemed to last for hours but was only a couple of split seconds in reality. Time seemed to freeze, but then I felt the boy move from behind me, where he had been hiding. He stepped to the side, fearlessly, and then screamed defiantly at the Reaver.
I almost burst out laughing. What the hell was the kid doing? Don’t antagonize the monster.
Too late.
The Reaver screamed back at us and then dropped into a slouch, its eyes fixed on me. I guess I looked more like a threat. So I did the only thing I could think of: I drew my Uzi and shot it right in the face.
