Chapter 9 - The Lunge
The raw, explosive speed of David's charge caught everyone completely off guard. Despite twenty years of confinement and muscle atrophy, the anomalous biology pulsing through his veins gave him a terrifying burst of kinetic force. He slammed bodily into Sheriff Miller, tackling the much larger, armed man off the gravel driveway and crashing them both hard into the side of the idling police SUV.
The heavy thud echoed off the vehicle's metal door, followed by a sharp curse from Miller as his service weapon slipped from his grip, skidding across the asphalt and coming to a stop near the back tire.
"David, no!" Clara screamed, stumbling over the uneven lawn in her dark green cardigan and blue jeans, regaining her balance just in time to see her brother pinning the sheriff against the side of the cruiser.
Elena backed away in absolute horror, her hands covering her mouth as she breathed in short, terrified gasps. Her light blue t-shirt was stained with dirt from where David had shoved her, but the physical discomfort was entirely eclipsed by the surreal nightmare unfolding before her eyes.
Sheriff Miller, recovering quickly from the surprise tackle, threw a heavy elbow backward, catching David squarely in the ribs. A sickening crunch echoed through the yard, but David didn't cry out. Instead, he grabbed Miller by the collar of his crisp uniform shirt, his glowing gold-ringed eyes blazing with decades of suppressed fury.
"You took my life!" David roared, his voice thick with raw agony. "You made me a monster in the dark while I listened to you and my father share beers on the back porch!"
"You were never human, David," Miller snarled back, his face reddening as he reached down, frantically searching his belt for a backup taser or baton. "You were property of the state. And property gets reclaimed."
Clara didn't hesitate. She dropped the black trash bag onto the grass, sprinted across the driveway, and dove for the service weapon that had skidded near the rear tire. Her fingers closed around the cold, textured grip of the heavy pistol just as Miller managed to knee David hard in the stomach, sending her brother stumbling backward onto the gravel.
Miller shoved David away, panting heavily as he straightened his uniform shirt and turned his cold, calculating gaze directly toward Clara, who was now kneeling on the asphalt with his own gun pointed unsteadily at his chest.
"Put the weapon down, Clara," Miller commanded, his voice dripping with icy authority. "You have no idea what you're unleashing on this world if you let him walk away."
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Clara's hands shook violently, the heavy steel wavering as she looked from the sheriff to her brother, who was coughing weakly on the ground. Suddenly, the front door of the neighboring house clicked open, and a curious neighbor stepped out onto their porch, staring right at them.
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