Chapter 5: Run

Someone jumped Em from behind; she staggered forward, then back, small hands reaching around her head and covering her mouth. The little man in front of her lowered his head and charged, hands out, shoving her in the belly. Em desperately tried to stay on her feet, her high heels skritching backwards, but there was something on the floor -- another one of them! Em felt sickly weightless, then crashed against wood and bodies.

They seemed to come from everywhere. Em reached up to get free of the man who'd grabbed her, but more hands grabbed her arms, pulling and pinning them down. A heavy weight wrapped around her left leg; she felt a hand on her right ankle. Em bucked and kicked frantically; she couldn't open her mouth to scream, desperately twisting her head around, unable to break the vise-like pressure. The smell of prune syrup thickened the air; it was hard to breathe.

Em struggled fiercely, but the weight of their bodies was too great, two already sitting on her arms and pressing down on her shoulders, one leg crushed under the weight of two more, one perched lewdly on her pelvis and trying to strangle her other thigh, another wrestling against her still-kicking foot and slowly winning.

She couldn't see any of their faces. They all wore the same dark burlap coats with oversize hoods; the two sitting on her arms had their heads bowed down with the effort of pinning her shoulders. They were small, more like boys than men. The one beneath her had his legs up between her arms and torso; he locked them around her chest now and began to squeeze; Em stiffened against the pressure, her lungs burning, knowing that when she took her next breath those legs would lock tighter.

Em heard something hard smash against the floor above her, and then the sound of creaking wood and groaning nails.

Someone was getting the axe.

Em twisted and arched, working her jaw rabidly, shifting her attacker's hands over her mouth. Fingers slipped; her teeth dug savagely into the gritty flesh; grip slackened.

Em screamed.

Alex was at the base of the stairs when he heard the scream. He leaped at the first flight, his first step halfway up, hands grabbing the rails like vines. Alex hauled himself up the stairwell like an ape climbing a tree, bouncing from landing to step to railing to landing, exploding through the door at the top, careening off the opposite wall into a full-on sprint down the hall, his long raincoat flapping behind him like wings of fury.

The door was open; Alex braced a hand against the jamb and sprang through.

Directly in front of him stood a man less than four feet tall, in a dark cloak, arms raised, holding Em's axe high over his head; at his feet, Em was pinned beneath several more small men in dark cloaks. The axe-wielder's upper body was turned, the figure looking toward the open doorway behind him, no doubt hearing Alex's approach, the wicked blade wavering slightly.

Alex lunged forward, reaching out and grabbing the top of the axe handle. He swung around the standing attacker, ripping the axe from his hands. The attacker lowered his head and charged Alex, arms grappling around Alex's waist, shoving him backwards. Alex tripped over the coffee table and fell backwards; the axe-handle struck something and wrenched itself free of his grip. The pair hit the floor hard. Alex's hand groped for the axe, but suddenly another attacker jumped on him. Alex abandoned the weapon; he had to get up.

He bucked and twisted himself around, working to get his arms and legs underneath him. The one who'd pulled him down squirmed around his waist, wrapping his little legs around Alex's knee. Alex got an arm free and reached down, yanking on the attacker's hood, hand clawing at the smaller man's face. The skin was rough and unyielding, like tearing at sandstone; Alex couldn't find the eyes, so he just shoved hard, bending the man's head at an unnatural angle, and the grip around Alex's waist and leg were momentarily slackened. It was enough, and Alex was able to get one foot planted beneath him.

Alex leaped to his feet, throwing off the second attacker like a sack of rice; there was a loud crash as the diminuitive figure fell onto an end table, bringing down a lamp and knicknacks and candles. Alex turned his attention to the former axe-wielder who was now clutching Alex's thigh and sliding down. Alex shook himself free, then spun and gave the man a vicious kick to the head, throwing him back to smack against the edge of the coffee table.

Alex could just see Em's legs beyond the couch, one being ridden by an attacker like a bucking bull, the other held at the ankle but twisting and pulling and shoving. The holder was pulled violently toward Em; he lost his grip, stumbling; Em's foot thrust out, led by the sharp heel of her shoe, which slashed at the attacker's midsection. The attacker recoiled and staggered backwards; Em's foot kicked up, catching the bent-over attacker's chin and sending him spilling on his back.