Unknown 9 by Layton Green (each kindness read aloud txt) 📕

Smooth as silk, the engine came to life.

Relief surged through her. Before she had to time to call out, a number of things happened at once.

Zawadi spun around. She’d been shot in the chest. Though her face scrunched in pain, she didn’t cry out, instead dropping to a knee to return fire, forcing the occupants of the SUV to stay low.

As Andie realized Zawadi must be wearing a vest, Henrik ran towards Zawadi, shouting that he had killed the red-haired woman.

And Cal had turned the Fiat around and started driving down the street right toward them. “Go!” he cried to Andie and Zawadi, accelerating toward the parked SUV, though the car didn’t have much time to gain speed. Cal rolled out of the door as soon as he passed the motorcycles.

Zawadi was already seated on the red-and-blue bike, grimacing in pain. She waved Cal on behind her as the runaway Fiat forced the SUV to back up before ramping the curb and crashing into a tree. Andie crouched behind the black motorbike as Henrik raced toward her, yelling at her to get on and drive.

Gunshots rang out from both sides. As Zawadi and Cal drove by, Zawadi turned to fire, trying to cover them. Henrik, ten feet away, was also laying down gunfire.

The sirens drew closer. The chaos and gunshots rang in Andie’s ears, making her feel dizzy and strangely unmoored.

Shake it off, Andie. You have to get out of here.

There was a lull in the gunfire. With any luck, the people in the SUV had to reload. Andie took the opportunity, rising from her crouch to throw a leg over the purring motorbike. Henrik climbed on behind her. If they made it off the street, it would be easy to evade the SUV.

As she knocked the kickstand back, a bullet zinged right by her cheek. When Henrik returned fire, the sound exploded in her ears and the muzzle flashed in her eyes. The acrid stench of gunpowder stuffed her nose. All of a sudden, her limbs felt heavy and she had the sensation she was floating even though the ground was right beneath her—

And then she was inside the shadow world, the old buildings lining the street now smudges of haze in the darkness, the street a ribbon of charcoal that twisted and curled like smoke beneath her.

No! I can’t be here right now. I’ll die.

Henrik was motionless behind her, so faded he resembled a shade more than a person. Same with the motorbike, and the cars floating in slow motion. She called out, but Henrik didn’t respond. Something rippled in the gloom, a streak of silver light coming her way. She stepped to the side to avoid it. As the object passed her by, about the speed of a slow-pitch softball, she got a better look and noticed the core was shaped vaguely like a pellet.

Was that a bullet? How is that possible?

Or am I dreaming?

Despite the ephemeral nature of the place, it felt suffocating, as if the gloom itself had weight. As always, shapes drifted through the murky recesses of the void, sentient things aware of her presence, causing chills of unease to creep down her spine.

You have to snap out of it, Andie. You have to wake up.

When she tried to pinch herself, her hand sank weirdly into her flesh, horrifying her. There was a gun battle going on in the real world. She had already spent far too long inside. Sensing a presence behind her, she whipped around and saw, about a hundred feet away—distance was hard to judge—a spectral figure approaching. It was dressed in some type of clothing, frayed at the edges, that looked almost Renaissance. She couldn’t make out any features; the figure seemed made of shadow like everything else.

Whoever or whatever it was, the figure knew Andie was there, and it was watching her. Andie could sense it. She turned to search for an escape, but all she could see were endless vistas of gray and those awful silhouettes, those things, hovering on the edges of her vision.

The figure kept drifting in her direction, slow at first and then faster. Andie backed away but couldn’t seem to move as fast. She had never felt so lost, so hopelessly lost, trapped in a maze with no rational borders, maybe trapped forever if she didn’t wake up. The figure drifted ever closer, reaching out for her now. Andie lurched to get away, never so terrified of anything in her life—

The world returned in a flash of color and sound: the glow of streetlamps, the roar of a motorbike, a gunshot nearby.

She tumbled off the motorcycle, which was idling in the same place she’d gotten on. It was as if she had been under the spell of the shadow world for only a moment, a blip in time in the real world.

Henrik, still on the bike, was startled by her fall. “Andie, get up!”

Zawadi, noticing they had stalled, stopped her bike near the end of the street, and laid down cover fire to help them escape. Andie was so woozy she tripped and fell when she tried to stand. Henrik jumped off the bike and yanked her to her feet. “We have to go before—”

A bullet slammed into his back, causing him to lurch into Andie. She caught him, warm blood oozing onto her hands.

She screamed. “Henrik!”

Another gunshot. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the people in the SUV slump as if hit.

“Go,” Henrik managed to gasp. “You have to drive.”

Adrenaline spiked inside her, snapping her fully awake. A lull in the gunfire allowed her to jump onto the bike, and she helped Henrik climb on behind her. Though his grip felt weak, he was able to hold her around the waist.

“Hang in there!” she said as she wheeled the bike around. Zawadi fired again as Andie jammed her wrist forward and took off down the street in the opposite direction from