The air itself seemed to stop moving.

  The suspended rubble above Abby’s head trembled, shards of glass catching firelight in a dozen tiny

  suns. Then gravity took hold. The pile began to drop, first in slow motion, then faster, the mass of it

  howling down through the cold.

  Abby looked up. Her knees refused to bend. She could only watch as the wall of stone and steel fell

  toward her. Every instinct screamed to move, but her muscles no longer obeyed. Her body was spent,

  bruised, torn, trembling from exhaustion. All she could think was Kyle can still save the kids. That one

  thought looped through her skull as the sky fell.

  Somewhere to her right, she heard him.

  “Abby!”

  His voice ripped through the chaos, raw, desperate. She turned her head just enough to see him running,

  staggering, a dark figure cutting through the pale frost. He wasn’t close enough. He knew it. She knew

  it.

  Then something hit her, hard.

  A blur of motion, a human shape. The impact knocked the breath from her chest and sent her tumbling

  sideways. She hit the ground hard, the force of the shove scraping her arms against the broken

  pavement. For a fraction of a second she saw her mother’s face and jaw set, eyes wide with

  determination, and then the world exploded in a roar of falling stone.

  Kate shoved her with everything she had. Abby rolled once, twice, hitting the pavement just as the

  avalanche crashed down.

  The sound of the crash came a heartbeat later.

  A roar of rock and steel swallowed the street. The impact threw dust and shards into the air like

  shrapnel. Abby hit the ground hard, skidding through rubble. A wave of debris followed, peppering her

  back and legs.

  Then came the ringing.

  A sharp, constant tone filled her ears, drowning everything else. Her vision tunneled, the edges

  dimming to gray. Shapes moved somewhere in the haze, but she couldn’t tell how close they were or if

  they were even real. The only thing she could feel was the pounding of her heart and the weight of the

  air pressing against her chest.

  Abby blinked through the haze, coughing. She tried to pushed herself up on trembling arms and looked

  back. The spot where she’d been standing was gone, buried under a mountain of debris. Her left leg

  was pinned beneath a slab of concrete, the rough edge biting into her thigh. Blood seeped between the

  cracks, turning the frost black.

  “Mom…” Her voice barely escaped her throat. “Mom!”

  Nothing. Just the whisper of settling dust.

  Her pulse hammered. She clawed at the debris, cutting her hands on splintered metal. “Mom!” she

  screamed again, voice cracking. There was no movement, no sound beneath the rubble. The realization

  hit her like another impact. Tears blurred her vision. “Why did you...why...”

  Across the ruined street, Kyle stood frozen. His mind refused to process what he saw. The cloud of dust

  was still clearing, flakes of ash falling like snow. He could just make out Abby’s shape amid the ruin.

  And the pile, where Kate now was now buried, was still shifting slightly, exhaling pale smoke into the

  air.

  He took one step forward, then another. His side burned with every motion, but adrenaline drowned it

  out.

  Then he saw movement behind the haze.

  The alien.

  It stood perfectly still, head tilted, as though confused. The glow of its eyes dimmed and brightened

  erratically, like a faltering signal. It scanned the wreckage, expression unreadable. For the first time

  since the battle began, it hesitated.

  Abby’s scream broke that pause.

  The alien’s gaze snapped toward her, light flaring bright blue again. It crouched low, fingers flexing.

  The confusion vanished. Rage took its place.

  Abby struggled to pull free, sobbing, but the slab wouldn’t budge. Her nails tore at the concrete until

  they bled. She looked up, the creature’s shadow stretching over her like a shroud. Its hand opened,

  massive fingers ready to close around her skull.

  “Kyle!” she screamed.

  He was already moving. His body didn’t have the strength, but it didn’t matter. He sprinted, lungs

  tearing, blood wet on his lips. The alien loomed over Abby and Kyle slammed into it.

  The collision shook both of them. His fist cracked against the alien’s jaw with a sickening thud. Pain

  shot up his arm. He didn’t stop. He drove a knee into its side, then pivoted and kicked at the same spot,

  the one still slick with blue blood. The Spartor staggered, gurgling, light flickering in its chest cavity.

  The spray hit Kyle across the face and neck, cold, chemical, burning like acid. He swiped at it, eyes

  watering, and swung again. His knuckles met hard flesh and bone, and something in his wrist popped.

  The alien lashed back, a blur of green and metal. Kyle ducked one strike, dodged another, but the third

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  clipped him across the ribs. The blow lifted him off the ground and sent him rolling through shards of

  ice. Pain exploded through his chest; he felt something give way inside.

  Abby screamed again.

  The Spartor turned its head, tracking the sound. It took one step toward her, frost creeping behind its

  heels.

  Kyle forced himself to his knees, coughing up blood. “Get… out!” he gasped.

  Abby clawed at the debris, using every ounce of strength left in her arms. The slab shifted slightly, just

  enough for her to drag one leg free. Her breath came in short, ragged sobs. Tears streaked the dirt on

  her cheeks.

  The alien’s massive frame loomed closer. It crouched, lowering one hand toward her again.

  Kyle didn’t think. He charged, screaming, swinging the dagger in a wild arc. The blade scraped across

  the alien’s chest, leaving a shallow groove. The Spartor roared and swung a backhand that caught him

  across the shoulder. The world spun. Kyle hit a pile of rubble hard, the impact knocking the air from his

  lungs. His vision swam in flashes of light.

  He tried to rise, using the dagger for balance, but his arm shook uncontrollably. He could hear Abby

  sobbing, the scrape of stone as she tried to dig herself out. And beneath it all, the low hum of the alien’s

  breathing, closer and closer.

  The Spartor stopped in front of her again. Its head cocked slightly to one side, studying her the way a

  predator studies something it’s already decided to kill. The blue glow in its remaining eye pulsed once.

  Then it reached for her.

  Abby’s hands fell still. She looked up, face pale, lips trembling. Her mother was gone. Kyle was down.

  There was nowhere left to go. She closed her eyes.

  The alien’s fingers brushed her hair.

  A sound split the air, sharp, metallic, final.

  The Spartor froze. Its whole body jerked violently backward. A wet crack followed, and something

  dark jutted from its eye socket, a shaft, impossible to identify in the dim light. Blue fluid sprayed

  outward, spattering across the rubble.

  Abby gasped, flinching as drops of it hissed against the frost near her. The creature reeled, clutching its

  face with one massive hand. Its roar was lower now, almost human in pitch but filled with agony. The

  ground trembled under its weight.

  Kyle looked up from where he lay sprawled. His heart slammed in his chest. He didn’t understand what

  he was seeing. The alien’s blood steamed, thick and oily, running down its arm. Something, someone,

  had struck a perfect shot, but from where?

  The Spartor staggered, slamming one hand into the ground to steady itself. The frost cracked beneath

  the impact. For a heartbeat, it looked like it might collapse. Then it straightened again, one eye dark,

  the other burning bright. The roar it unleashed shook the air. Pain, fury, confusion all tangled together

  in that sound.

  Abby crawled backward through the rubble, still half-trapped. Kyle forced himself upright, using the

  dagger as leverage. His side screamed in protest, every breath a knife.

  The alien turned its head slowly, scanning the street with its remaining eye. Its breathing was erratic,

  almost ragged. The metallic plates that covered its wounds glowed faintly as if reacting to its rage. Blue

  steam rose from its mouth.

  Abby pressed a hand to her bleeding leg, trying to stay quiet. Kyle crouched behind the wreckage,

  watching, heart hammering.

  The Spartor lifted its arm. Its fingers twitched once, then again, small, involuntary spasms. It took a

  step forward, then another, staggering like a drunk. The blood from its ruined eye dripped onto the

  frost, freezing where it fell.

  Kyle held his breath. Whoever, or whatever, had saved them hadn’t revealed itself. The street was silent

  except for the alien’s uneven breathing and Abby’s muffled sobs. Even the fires seemed to burn quieter.

  The Spartor stopped, head tilting again, as if listening for a sound only it could hear. Then it exhaled

  sharply, frost spilling from its mouth in a white plume.

  The tension hung there, thick as the cold.

  Abby finally whispered, voice shaking, “Kyle…”

  He looked at her, pale, blood-streaked, exhausted, and then back at the alien. “Don’t move,” he said

  softly. “Not yet.”

  The Spartor’s one remaining eye flared, the light inside it pulsing like a heartbeat. It turned toward the

  sound of her voice. Kyle’s grip tightened on the dagger.

  For a long moment, no one moved. The only sound was the steady drip of blue blood onto the frozen

  ground.

  Then, slowly, the alien straightened, towering again, its shadow stretching long over them both. The

  glow from its eye burned hotter, and the frost beneath its feet began to spread once more, creeping

  outward like veins of ice.

  Something shifted in the wind, a whisper, a faint crack far off in the dark.

  The Spartor’s head turned sharply toward it.