“The green Porsche is mine,” said Gerald, “but you can take any of the others. The keys are all by the stairs.”
Roman approached a black pickup truck, eyeing the driver’s side door before looking back at Gerald. “We’re not going to flee with you.”
“I didn’t think you would. But you shouldn’t stay here. They’ll find you before long.”
Helen stood by a blue convertible. “Will they? Did we not escape them well enough?”
“Probably not,” said Roman. “Reapers are annoyingly good scouts. They probably still have a vague idea where we went, at least. And they can search areas very quickly.”
In the driver’s seat, Gerald started his Porsche. The far corner of the ceiling began opening, and it became abruptly apparent that the long ramp there led outside.
Gerald stuck his head out. “Roman. Everyone. Good luck to you.”
Roman gave him the finger.
The old man drove away, his unintroduced reaper following.
‘What now?’ said Voreese. ‘Our plan’s been shot to hell.’
Roman took a heavy breath. “I hate to say it, but I think the old bastard was right. We shouldn’t stay here.”
Helen’s brow lowered. “You would have me flee, as well?”
“Look, it’s a bit pathetic, but without my glasses, I’m fighting with a disadvantage. You don’t have any combat experience or training yet, and while I’m impressed with the sword girl’s abilities, she’s still just a normal person.” Roman looked at Hector and Garovel. “What do you two think? The bulk of the fight would be in your hands.”
With everyone looking at him again, Hector took a step back.
‘It’s too risky,’ said Garovel. ‘We should leave Sescoria and come up with a new plan.’
The Queen frowned. “If we concede the capital now, we may never be able to retake it. We do outnumber the enemy, and Hector seems capable of--”
Garovel cut her off. ‘With respect, Your Majesty, this is not your decision. It’s mine. Hector has helped you more than enough already.’