Day 63: Racing the Black Fangs
Eli's legs burned with each step as he tore through the desolate streets. The wind whipped against his face, and the heavy weight of the knight's helmet pressed down on his head, its cold metal a constant reminder of the choices he'd made. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing a single thought: Get to the warehouse. Warn Luke and Cass.
But there was one problem. Eli had never been to the warehouse.
All he had were vague directions—north of the city, somewhere in the industrial district—and the knowledge that if he didn't find it soon, Vince and his gang would reach it first. The distant growl of motorcycles in the air reminded him just how little time he had. Vince and his crew weren't just walking toward the warehouse—they were riding, closing the distance far faster than Eli could run.
"Damn it," Eli muttered under his breath, forcing his legs to move faster. His body screamed in protest, exhaustion already setting in, but he couldn't stop. Not now. He'd overheard Vince's plan: they were going to hit the warehouse with everything they had. And if Eli didn't get there first, Luke, Cass, and the others wouldn't stand a chance.
Eli weaved through the rubble-strewn streets, past crumbling buildings and rusted-out cars. The industrial district was close now—its hulking warehouses looming in the distance like ancient titans. He pushed harder, the roar of motorcycles growing louder behind him.
The Black Fangs weren't far off. They would catch up soon.
"I need to find it… I need to find them," Eli panted, his breath coming in ragged gasps behind the helmet. His mind raced as he scanned the empty streets, searching for any sign of where Luke and the others might have holed up. The problem was, every warehouse looked the same—massive, rusted steel doors, some sealed shut, others crumbling from neglect. How was he supposed to know which one they'd chosen?
His pulse quickened with rising panic. The motorcycles were getting closer, their engines cutting through the eerie quiet of the wasteland. Eli had a small lead on them, but it wouldn't last long. He had minutes at best.
He needed a sign. Something. Anything.
"Come on, come on!" Eli growled, his eyes darting from one warehouse to the next as he sprinted down the road.
Then he saw it.
A thin wisp of smoke, barely noticeable, rising from behind one of the larger warehouses farther down the street. It was faint—just a subtle curl of gray against the pale sky—but it was something. His heart leaped in his chest.
"That has to be it," Eli muttered, pushing himself even harder.
His legs burned, every muscle in his body screaming in protest, but he didn't care. He couldn't afford to care. He had to make it before Vince's gang arrived.
The sound of the motorcycles grew louder now, close enough that Eli could hear the distant roar of engines bouncing off the crumbling buildings around him. The Black Fangs were right on his heels, and they wouldn't stop for anything. If they reached the warehouse before he did, it would be too late.
Eli rounded a corner, the warehouse coming into full view. It was massive, its rusted steel doors shut tight, the smoke still rising from the back. His heart pounded in his chest as he sprinted toward it, his breath ragged and shallow. He could already feel the exhaustion dragging him down, but he pushed through it, knowing that every second counted.
"Luke! Cass!" he shouted as he neared the warehouse, his voice hoarse from the strain. "It's Eli! Open up!"
For a moment, there was nothing—just the sound of his fist pounding on the door and the distant roar of Vince's crew coming closer.
Then, the door creaked open just enough for a figure to peer out. It was Luke.
"Eli?" Luke's voice was full of shock and disbelief. "What the hell—"
"No time," Eli gasped, pushing the door wider. "Vince. The Black Fangs. They're coming for you. They know about the warehouse. They've got motorcycles—they're minutes behind me."
Luke's face darkened as he processed Eli's words. "Motorcycles? How many?"
"At least ten," Eli said, his voice tight with urgency. "They've got reinforcements coming, too."
Luke's expression hardened, and he pulled the door open wider, motioning for Eli to come inside. "Get in."
Eli staggered through the door, his body trembling from the exertion as he leaned against the wall to catch his breath. Luke shut the door behind him, locking it tight before turning to face the rest of the group.
"Cass! Get everyone ready! The Black Fangs are on their way, and they've got numbers."
The inside of the warehouse was suddenly alive with movement, the calm before the storm shattered by Luke's orders. People scrambled to grab weapons, supplies, anything that could be used to defend themselves. The faint smell of smoke from the small fire in the corner filled the air, mixing with the palpable tension as the group prepared for a fight they hadn't been expecting.
Eli's chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath, his legs threatening to buckle beneath him. But he couldn't rest now. He had made it, but the danger was just beginning.
Cass appeared from one of the side rooms, her eyes locking onto Eli. She looked surprised to see him, but there wasn't time for questions.
"You came back," she said quietly, her voice steady but with an edge of disbelief.
Eli nodded, his breath still ragged. "I had to. Vince and his men… they're coming. I couldn't just leave you to face them alone."
Cass's expression softened for a brief moment before she snapped back into action. "We'll talk later. Right now, we need to prepare."
Eli nodded, forcing himself to stand up straight. His body screamed for rest, but he wasn't about to let that stop him. Not now. Not when he was finally doing something that mattered.
The roar of the motorcycles was almost deafening now, and Eli knew Vince's gang had arrived. They'd probably seen him go into the warehouse, and they wouldn't waste any time in tearing it apart.
Luke barked orders, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Barricade the entrances! Get to your positions!"
The rest of the group moved with grim determination, grabbing makeshift weapons and fortifying the doors. The fear in their eyes was evident, but so was their resolve. They had been through hell before, and they weren't about to go down without a fight.
Eli grabbed his knife, the familiar weight grounding him for what was to come. His heart raced as the noise outside grew louder—the roar of engines, the clatter of weapons, and the distant shouts of Vince's men.
"They're here," Eli said quietly, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at him. "We have to be ready."
Cass glanced at him briefly, then gave a sharp nod. "We will be."
The motorcycles outside came to a stop, the engines cutting out one by one. The warehouse fell into a tense silence, the only sound the quiet shuffling of the group inside as they braced themselves.
Eli's heart hammered in his chest. He had made it in time, but now came the hard part—surviving.
Outside, Vince's voice rang out, cold and commanding. "We know you're in there! Come out, and maybe we'll let some of you live!"
Eli gripped his knife tighter, his pulse quickening. This was it. There was no running now. He was here to stay.
Cass's voice, calm and collected, broke through the tense silence. "Then let's show them what they're up against."
The door rattled as the first strike came, and Eli took a deep breath. The battle had begun.