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TWENTY THREE
The Smilodon leaped down from it's perch atop the elevator, bounding for Celia.
"Run, Celia!" Franklin screamed somewhere behind her. And she did. She took off as fast as her legs would carry her, dodging and pushing through terrified passengers who were trying in vain to find safety. Nowhere was safe on the Silver Queen. Hadn't they figured that out yet?
When she looked back, the cat was so fast, so unnaturally quick -- she couldn't outrun it.
She had to climb.
Ahead of her she saw a way up -- a wall fountain, tropical plants spilling out of large round planters that climbed all the way to the glass ceiling a daunting thirty stories above. She hopped up onto the first planter, the Fern inside beaded with mist. The wall itself -- blue irridescent tiles to match the scales of her costume -- was dry, the water that had flown from it shut down thanks to the Silver Queen's lack of power.
The next closest planter was to her left, five feet over, four feet above her head. A difficult jump, but she'd faced difficult jumps before. She threw her spear to the planter and it landed with a clang.
The lava cat let out a vicious sounding meow as it closed the gap between them.
Celia leaped, just barely catching the next planter with her fingertips. She groaned under her own weight, her muscles shaking as she tried to pull herself up. She could do this, she told herself. The climb from Eidon's apartment to the bridge had been harder than this. But still, her body was tired, her injured leg throbbing -- after everything she'd outrun, outjumped, outfought today, her muscles were ready to give out.
The cat let out a mighty bellow, leaping for her swinging legs. She pulled herself up, dodging the cat's claws, but only just.
The Smilodon snarled with rage as Celia wormed her way up onto the second planter, out of it's reach, but the beast wouldn't give up so easily. Before Celia had a chance to pick up her spear, the Smilodon leaped onto the first planter, staring up at her as it readied itself to pounce.
Keep climbing.
Celia tossed her weapon and jumped for the next planter to her left, her aching muscles begging her to stop.
But there was no stopping. The creature was coming.
She glanced back down and the creature had made it to the second planter. It was coming for her.
Celia growled against the pain in her body and made for another planter, the cat matching each jump. How many floors had she ascended? Three? Four? The glass ceiling getting steadily closer as she tried to outclimb the creature.
She leaped for the next planter, legs dangling, and the cat was right below. It lashed out at her with it's mighty paws, the claws catching her injured thigh and she screamed. With her good leg she kicked out at the monster, her heel slamming into it's nose and the sabre-tooth fell back with a groan, losing its balance and falling off it's perch, down two flights before it finally gained purchase.
Celia had a lead on the beast now, but with her leg oozing blood and pulsing with pain, she knew she'd be slower.
She made for the next planter, terrified of letting the beast catch up. Another floor passed by her as she climbed, then another, until soon she was just below the windowed ceiling. She could reach out and touch it if she tried. Through the glass she could see the sky, clouded with steam and ash and illuminated by an orange glow -- flame. A nightmare landscape no safer than the nightmare inside the Silver Queen.
And then she heard a blast -- a horn blow.
A ship.
In the distance Celia could see it -- the Alaskan Princess. She'd found them! Celia's eyes felt hot with tears as relief swelled in her chest. Help was coming. At last, it was really coming.
And then pain -- a vicious, searing heat as what felt like razors crunched the bone of her left foot, and the creature pulled Celia off her perch, like she weighed nothing, tossing her to the Atrium below.
Celia fell, losing her hold on her spear, arms flailing as she slammed into one of the planters and bounced off, then another. She crashed into a third and she scrambled for a grip, managing to catch the edge and stop her fall.
Above her, she could see the Smilodon, climbing down after her. It was determined to see her die, see her pay for what she'd done to it's friends. Celia blinked back tears -- she'd lost the spear. She had no way to defend herself.
"Girly!" Head poking over the balcony above her, she saw Melvin. He held out his spear. "Catch!"
Catch how!? She was dangling over ten stories by her arms. Celia watched as the spear plummeted towards her, helpless to grab it. But Melvin's aim was percect, and the weapon fell with a clatter right in front of her. All she had to do was hoist herself up and take it.
The Smilodon hissed overhead and when she looked, it was only two planters away. It slurped it's lips, readying itself for the kill.
Mustering what little strength she had left, Celia hoisted herself onto the planter, leg screaming with pain as the Smilodon dropped another level.
She grabbed for the spear, but her fumbling fingers lost their grip, and she watched with horror as her only weapon went skittering over the side. "No!" she squeaked.
The beast leaped with a mighty roar and she rolled onto her back, arms trembling as she tried to shield herself, the black bottomless maw coming for her face.
Celia closed her eyes, resigned to meet her death --
And then a blast --
And a wet, hot splatter hit her face.
Celia blinked, red seeping into her eyes. Blood. Her blood?
No.
She wiped the sticky red away and blinked, the Smilodon gone. Stiff and aching, she rolled onto her knees and glanced over the side to see the creature -- dead and broken several planters below. A massive, bloody hole has been blasted between it's eyes.
How?
"Celia!"
She looked up, to where Melvin was still leaning over the balcony, Franklin beside him.
And another figure, holding a rifle.
"Eidon?" she breathed. He was alive. He'd made it back from the Hydra.
"You okay?" he called out to her.
She collapsed into the ferns as the adrenaline drained from her body and the pain in her thigh, in her muscles, began to overwhelm her.
And she laughed.
Because pain was good. The pain told her she was alive. She'd survived. And the cats were dead. Against the odds, she'd outmatched them.
They all had.