The machete fell into my open palm and I swung hard cleanly severing Zeke's head from off his shoulders. I stared down at the head on the floor, as the headless body fell away from me.
"That's how it's done Zeke." I said before tossing the bloody machete to the floor and making my way back through the warehouse towards the children.
As I approached the teacher stood up. I hadn't noticed her before. I went to her first.
She was blubbering all over about her gratitude and thanking me profusely.
I nodded, as I held her zip tied wrists up in order to cut through the plastic with my knife. My knife sliced through and I handed it to her, "Help me get these kids cut free."
She nodded quickly and I turned to the children.
Something was wrong. What was it?
The teacher hadn't been in the kidnapper's video!
"Elon!!!"
I wheeled back to the teacher even as Zora cried out in alarm, but I was too late.
My eyes met the triumphant eyes of the teacher. I felt my own knife stabbed deeply into my stomach not once, but twice. She twisted the knife hard the second time with an evil sneer.
My hands grasped her head and I broke her neck.
She fell away from me already dead still clutching at my bloody knife, even as I fell to my knees my hands trying to stop the flow of blood. I couldn't fix this. No matter how hard I concentrated.
It was over.
My long life was over.
Someone pressed me down to my back and tore my shirt away. Focusing my eyes I saw that it was Zora. She was sobbing her heart out and although panicked she looked determined. Determined to do what?
I saw my bloody knife in her hands. Oh God no!
I tried to speak, to cry out to protest, but she'd already slashed both of her palms deeply with my knife. Pushing my hands away she pressed her hands hard against my twin wounds. I heard her say, "Oh Jesus I need you now! I don't know how to do this! Oh please!"
Zora jerked hard as her hands fused to me even as at the same time her blood began to pour into me through one wound, even as she cycled my remaining blood through her system out the other wound. I felt her efforts on a cellular level to repair the worst of my internal hemorrhaging in the second knife wound.
Finally my mind gave voice to words, "No Zora! You can't! You'll give me too much blood or weary yourself past the point of survival trying to fix me! You've got to stop or you'll die!"