Broken(20)

    “Come on out, now,” Clary said, taking a tentative step forward. I tried to conjure a scenario in my mind where I ambushed him, grabbing him by his metal head and slinging him around like I had once done to another man who wore a skin of steel. That possibility fled even more quickly than the first idea; with a shattered arm, I doubted I’d be able to lift him. One arm was simply not enough to manhandle a beast like Clyde Clary, at least not in his metal form. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” He seemed to realize the stupidity of this statement. “Well, I ain’t gonna hurt you much.” He paused. “More. Much more.”

    I looked at the back wall again, scanning for an exit, anything. It appeared to be solid concrete block back there, but surely there had to be a back door, something I could use to get outside, back on course, heading toward—

    My eyes found it as I heard Clary take another step. This time his voice was cross. “Come on, now. I’m getting mighty sick of this!”

    I kept my breathing low and steady. I tried to sit up but the pain was too much. I kept myself from doing much more than taking a sharp breath, but I heard Clary freeze.

    “I hear you,” Clary said, and I could sense the malicious glee behind the slurred words. “I’m gonna find you. It’ll be easier if you just come out now.”

    Little doll, Wolfe’s voice came in my head, run now.

    “I’d like to,” I said, mumbling into my mouth without opening it, “but I don’t think I can.”

    Go now, Little Doll.

    There was a surge of something through me at the same time as I saw Clary’s face turn toward me, his features still hidden in shadow. “Well … there you are.”

    I flung myself to my feet and ran, the pain receding as I did so. Clary let out a howl of outrage. “Where the hell do you think you’re goin—”

    I hit the exit door with my right shoulder, the one not attached to the shattered arm, and the frame splintered, throwing the door to the ground. The pain was gone, faded into the back of my head like a voice I could just barely hear. I turned right as I flew through the exit, sprinting on weary legs down another alleyway, this one asphalt. I reached the opening to the next street and heard Clary behind me coming out the door.

    “You ain’t gettin’ away, girl!” I was in the street and almost across by the time he reached the mouth of the alley I had just left behind. The night was quiet save for his shouting and dogs barking in the distance. “I’ll see you suffer for this!”

    “I doubt you’re gonna see much of anything with only one eye, Clyde.” I took staggering steps across the sidewalk and into what appeared to be an empty construction site as Clary followed behind me. He didn’t answer, but I heard him snort in rage behind me. I slowed my pace, taking careful steps on wooden planks that were lying atop canvas. Far above me, a gantry crane loomed, a giant corrugated metal cargo container in its grasp, dangling a hundred feet in the air directly over me.

    “You can barely walk, girl,” Clary said as I stopped and turned. He stood at the entry to the site, about thirty feet from me, the ground I had just trod the only thing separating us. I stared at him, my sunglasses gone, my face covered in blood, my entire body shaking from the brutal beating he had just given me. “You always thought you were too good,” he said, his metal face leering with his missing eye puckered shut. “Betcha don’t think that no more.”

    “You keep confusing bigger and stronger with better,” I said, my voice consumed with utter loathing. I snorted, letting my nostrils flare. “It isn’t. There’s a world of difference between being bigger than someone and being better than someone. And you? You’ve always been a waste of human flesh. A disgusting pig with no regard for anyone but himself, so ugly on the inside that the only thing that beats it is how ugly you are on the outside.” I sneered at him and saw his face darken. “I’ve always been better than you, because I’m smarter than you. And you’ve always been too stupid to realize it.”

    He face crumpled in pure fury, his eyebrows perfectly downturned and his lips a jagged line. “I’m ‘bout to beat that superiority right outta you, bitch—” He took a heavy step toward me, a long one, long enough to carry him to me in about four good strides. It was perfect, really, just enough fury to carry him on. The first step he landed on the same piece of lumber I had walked on, and it made a straining crack as he did it. Lucky, I thought. His next step was not so fortunate.