They were sitting in a sort of lobby, with a kitchen, dining table and chairs; and several living room furniture pieces.
Unlike Shiver, Ghost had noticed that the Cult kept weapons stowed away. Well, Connor had said they weren't allowed to fight back. That made sense.
Crippler ground his teeth and turned around, ripping carpet under his heel. He bowed his head, and his shoulders heaved.
"I'm sorry, Connor." He whispered. Ghost shouldn't have been able to hear him. But he had pretty good hearing.
When Crippler turned around, Ghost could sense a spike in aggression. Maybe it was the clenched fists and hunched shoulders. Time to move.
Ghost reacted instinctively. He jumped up onto the chair, standing on the seat. Then as Crippler moved in on him, he gave the chair a push forward to offset his backward momentum, then leapt back over it. He half-crouched on the other side, frozen for a second. He waited for Crippler to move.
Then Crippler moved from the right and Ghost snapped out of it. He darted to the kitchen, yanked out a dining chair and put it between him and the oncoming Cultists.
No back door, though. He was gonna have to fight them all.
More chairs. Surprising himself with adrenaline-fueled strength, he tossed them over each other, 8 of them, creating a barrier. The last throw actually yanked himself off balance, throwing him to a knee, but he got up fast. Chair legs in his face. He grabbed the salt off the table and threw it at Crippler, who was the closest.
Ghost delivered a hard heel stomp sideways to a chair leg. He had to have something to make distance with. It wrenched sideways. Another kick freed it, but bending down to grab it put his head within reach.
Crippler pinched, then re-grabbed a big handful of his hair, laid the other hand on his shirt. as Ghost clutched the chair leg, Crippler got a better grip on the boy's large shirt and yanked him over the pile of chairs. His kicking legs bruised on the chairs. It didn't hurt.
"Sela!" Crippler shouted. "Help me!"
The girl was already there.
Crippler spun Ghost's body across the floor, while Ghost tried to catch something with his right hand, and only grabbed Crippler's shoe. His shirt was pulled so tight his throat choked, and his whole chest burned against the carpet.
"Sela!" Crippler shouted as the Cultists crowded around.
Sela was pointing at Ghost's ribcage, which would normally be covered by Ghost's right arm. The Shiver tattoo.
"He's a Shiver!" She exclaimed.
"Shit." Ghost hissed. Crippler dropped him.
Ghost backed to get onto his knees, but he was stopped with a downward stomp in the butt, and another just below the tattoo. Same dude.
He blocked the next one with his arm, still trying to get up. 2 people grabbed a wrist each, forcing him forward, and they kicked him over and over in the ribs. It got so bad that he couldn't scream in the pain. Kicks were hitting his arms and thighs.
Spare that right arm. You'll need it.
He extended his left leg to twist over, twisting his arms too. If they were breaking an arm, break the left arm. The twisting fucked his left wrist up further. Even though he could hardly breathe, he could hear his own whimpers, gasping when he breathed in. He imagined his father calling him a baby right now. Rage at that made him hold his breath, and then he was kicked in the stomach, and he lost his wind.
He grimaced and felt a retching in his whole abdomen and throat. He didn't wanna puke face-up.
Crippler landed a kick on his left thigh. A couple more and it would break. He guarded with shins. It only took one stomp to break it.
Ghost knew it had broken. Another stomp on his arm. That probably cracked too. From the tingle-ache, he could tell.
Ghost puked all over his own face. It just came out of his mouth like a backwards gulp and spilled onto his neck and some in his nose. He coughed. That cough was agony on his ribs, but he also was choking on puke with what oxygen he could muster from squeezed-up lungs.
He felt himself trying to roll onto his right side. Crippler's leg stopped him.
"Are you a Shiver?" He shouted.
Ghost shuddered and coughed more puke out.
"Where's Connor, you bastard?" Crippler screamed. "Did you Shivers take my sister? What did you do to her?"
Crippler's voice was breaking on every other word.
Ghost couldn't even make a face. He gagged, lungs convulsing. He spit chunks of puked malt-o-meal and apples.
Crippler waited, breathing hoarsely, bent over Ghost. The boy grimaced hard, eyes squeezed shut, and let out a high-pitched moan. It was all he could manage with the limited lung space. In his head he was alone with the agony and the blackness.
"We have our answer, right?" Sela's voice came faint and anxious. "Shivers sent him. We can tell the Reverend..."
Ghost had a bit more air. That meant he was able to feel the pain more consciously. Great. There's only so much that adrenaline can do.
"Answer me!" Crippler pushed him with his right leg. "Connor!"
"C-Connor's--" Ghost gasped. "My friend."
He managed a glance at Crippler, with a pressed gasp into his aching chest.
Crippler was pale.
"Your... She's okay? Where is she?"
Connor didn't want to be found.
"She's prob-ly--" Ghost rolled over, choking in some real breaths now. Crippler let him, stepping away from him. It felt like a deal. Ghost tell, Crippler stop kicking.
Ghost pushed himself onto his knees. His left shin screamed, even though he was trying to spare it.
"Connor's probly fine." Ghost said, and he searched for the chair leg with his eyes.
"Where is she?" Crippler repeated impatiently. "Please. I'm not gonna hurt her."
Ghost spotted the weapon and lunged for it. Things slowed down. It took a spin on the ground to whack Cripplers shin. He whacked three times, got up and whacked him again, ducking kicks and batting away grabs with the stick. A few smashed fingers, and they hesitated to grab and went for more careful tactics.
Ghost kept returning to the same spot on the shin, wincing with the effort, the rage, and the physical agony he was in.
Crippler screamed and fell to a crouch, clutching his shin. Good.
Bracing his weight with his left arm, Ghost stood up. He screamed and crashed the tip of the chair leg into the back of Crippler's head. Crippler fell.
Ghost turned his still-screaming face on the other 6. The scream ended in a gurgle through the teeth.
Sela drew a long dagger and stepped forward.
"Try me." He growled.
In his head, his father's voice growled, "Chase."
Ghost felt like he was going to either fall or explode. His eyes opened wide--wider than felt possible--bloodshot; epitome of hate and rage. He didn't fall.
The 4 had frozen, one of them smacking at the doorknob.
Ghost lunged forward. He had to limp, because he couldn't afford his leg breaking the rest of the way. But it wrenched another gurgle of anguish as he swung the chair leg.
First he crushed fingers over firearms. Then he stabbed into a mouth with the chair leg, crushing in teeth. Blood.
Two of them had simply dropped to the ground with their arms protectively over their head.
Sela opened the door and literally hid behind it.
"Thanks."
Ghost slipped out.
"Don't shoot!" Sela yelled after him. "We need him!"
Good thing she did.
15 or so people were gathering around, leveling weapons, mostly guns.
"Catch him alive or we die!" Sela yelled.
Ghost lurched to the right. He knew he'd seen most of the Shivers escape that way.
People sped up to him, attempting to whack him with guns.
Cultists had faith in weaponry, not in people.
Ghost instinctively hit away the weapons with his stick, then either the hand, arm or collarbone, then kept staggering on. It was a pattern. The idiots kept coming, repeating the pattern, so he kept escaping. He rushed into the snipers' zone.
It had been about 8 minutes. Maybe the Shivers were still covering the area. Trusting them, he knelt on his right knee to shelter from the Cult side, in case they decided to shoot at him.
"He's gonna try to disappear!" Someone yelled.
People really thought he could just disappear.
Still, they came after him. With a wave of hope, he heard gunshots from outside. The Cultists following him were being shot at. He still faintly heard Sela shouting not to shoot him. Why?
He staggered out of his cover and stumbled down the path through the rubble. Fell into Buddy and Amherst's support under his arms. He moaned, just parting his lips enough to let out the air.
