Helga whipped her gun up to meet theirs, but Bo couldn't access hers without toppling Adam. Besides, they would still be hopelessly outnumbered.

Clayton, still a few hundred feet away, smiled as he stepped forward and held out his hands. "Well, we thought maybe we'd never see you again! But it looks like you were just getting some trash out of the garbage before you left." He nodded at Adam, and Bo gritted her teeth.

"We should have killed him back on the ship," Aston snarled, gripping his gun so tightly that it shivered and jumped.

"But see, then we would have a situation where the Forlorn look upon their poor dead leader as a symbol of rebellion. Nothing lights the fire of men's hearts more than someone dying to further the cause," Clayton said, signaling to his men to follow him as he walked toward Bo's group. "It's much better to crush the trust they put in their hero. When they find out their precious leader cracked and told us where they were hiding, I don't think many will be willing to keep fighting."

Bo inhaled sharply. They'd been torturing Adam so that he would tell where the Forlorn had hidden themselves? She glanced at Adam by her side, at his profile and the way he stared in defiance at Clayton, even though his ribs were broken and he was bleeding from multiple cuts. He'd never tell Clayton anything, and that filled Bo with even more love than she'd felt before.

Bo tightened her grip on Adam's waist. "Adam would never tell you anything," she yelled.

Clayton laughed. "I know. We tried hard, but he's got lips of stone. But—" He was now close enough to throw a stone at... if there had been any stones around. He stood directly in front of the hoppers, blocking any chance Bo and the rest had of grabbing one and hotwiring it before being shot. "I don't think he'll be as quiet when we string up the little kitten, or rip the braid off the temptress, or see what dances the nomad has for the men. Or," he stared her straight in the face. "What it sounds like to hear the throat of the one person he loves slit open as slowly as possible."

Adam snarled, jerking forward, but Bo held him steady. "You won't touch them," he snapped.

"Well, my guns say I will," Clayton said. "Aston will be more than happy to dispose of the girl who took everything from him. And I'm sure he'll get lots of satisfaction from knowing that the slower it is, the more it will drive you insane."

Bo's eyes slung to Aston, who glared at them from behind Clayton.

"Aston, don't do this. You were my brother. You love my father, you love me."

Aston laughed, cold and hard. "I don't know anything about love. All I know is survival, and that is best done alone."

"You wouldn't kill me," Bo insisted, but she saw the hardness in Aston's eyes. Whatever had happened to him after he'd left their camp, it was enough to turn him into the monster she'd always thought the aliens were.

"Well, not to interrupt your desperate begging," Clayton said. "But we do have other things to do, and I'd like to find the Forlorn as fast as possible."

He turned to his men, and while his gaze was directed elsewhere, Khan leaned forward toward Bo. His voice was low, only loud enough for her and the others to hear.

"They must have given Silver a new airship, because his old one is parked over there behind that tank." Bo followed his gaze to where the familiar ship sat a few hundred yards away. She quickly returned her eyes to the militia, hoping they hadn't noticed what she was focusing on.

"What about it?" Bo whispered back.

"Silver taught me how to get it to turn on without the key. It's only a few twists of a wire, and then we can have a ship to get us out of here," Khan said.

Hope flared in Bo's chest. It was a long shot, but it might just be their only chance at escape. "How long would you need?"

"Just long enough to get there and then perhaps a minute."

It would probably be five minutes in all. Five minutes where only Bo, Helga, and an injured Adam stood against ten militia soldiers and Clayton and Aston. Five minutes where their two guns were up against twelve. Five minutes where they could all die as quick as a breath.

"All right," she whispered back. "But try to get there as fast as possible. Our lives are in your hands."

Khan nodded. "Just let me know when you're ready."

"I'm ready now," Bo said. She slowly untangled Adam, despite his whispered protestations. She knew he wouldn't like this plan, that he didn't want her to try it, but she ignored him as she settled him on the ground. She was now free to draw her weapon, but she didn't make any moves toward it yet. Nevertheless, Clayton stopped his advance and watched her warily.

"Unfortunately, we're not going to be able to join you for all your torturing and killing," Bo said, keeping her eyes steadily on Clayton so that he didn't know where she was truly focusing her attention.

Clayton snorted. "You think you're going somewhere, princess?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, it's more like I think you'll be running in the next few seconds," Bo said, drawing her gun in one fluid motion. As she leveled it off, she grinned.

Clayton returned the grin. "We're not that stupid, Bo. You can't shoot me without all your friends being killed by my—"

He didn't get to finish his sentence. Bo squeezed the trigger of her gun, and the sound of the blast split the air. Clayton's face registered shock that Bo would actually shoot. But her shot never found him. Instead, it whizzed over his shoulder and between the soldiers standing behind him. It found its way to the hoppers, parked close together. The energy arc of the weapon slammed into the round casing between the handlebars and seat, where Bo knew the fuel was stored. A spark flashed, and a moment later, the hopper burst into flames, catching the others around it, packed too close together, into one large ball of fire.

The heat itself would be enough to make anyone run, but an explosion rocked the pavement and sent metal and burning fuel into the air. Clayton and his men dived for cover, but a few seconds later it was clear that a handful of the soldiers didn't make it. While the remaining few huddled behind a tank, Bo spun to wave Khan and Esme forward. While they ran, as best as Khan could with his injury, toward the airship, Bo grabbed Adam under the arm and hauled him to his feet.

By that time, the militia had recovered enough to begin returning fire on Bo and Helga as they made their own way toward a huge metal water tank. They just barely made it to cover with no injuries, and Bo dropped Adam as she turned to help Helga shoot back at the militia.

Peeking around the corner of the metal, Bo saw the militia temporarily pinned behind the tank while the flames reached high into the sky with black smoke billowing and blocking some of their view. It was probably this smoke that saved Helga and Bo from being immediately plowed down by their bullets. But it was already catching in the wind and swirling the other direction to engulf Khan and Esme who had made it behind a tank and out of the sight of the militia. While it wouldn't smell or taste very nice, Bo was glad that it was now covering her companions as they made their way toward the airship. The militia weren't even looking toward the smoke, and all their attention was on Bo and Helga.

The flames followed the direction of the smoke soon enough, and the militia were able to creep out from behind the tank. They couldn't make much forward progress with Bo and Helga's gunfire raining down on them, but they still managed to creep along. Bo knew there was only so much more ammunition in her gun, and she tried to make every shot count. But the combined distance and the fact that she was under their return fire, made it so that she only took out three men. Helga took out another one, but by that time, the remaining men were only a few feet away and Bo's gun had just clicked empty.

With fear in her eyes, she glanced at Helga. She clutched her gun, the empty clip button flashing its warning that she was dangerously low on ammunition.

Meanwhile, the militia still kept up a hail of gunfire as they prepared to round the corner of the tank.