The frost whispered as the Spartor turned, its one good eye a perfect ring of burning blue. The other

  socket still leaking blood, but that single, living light scanned the ruin with surgical precision.

  Kyle used the distraction. He limped to Abby, dropped to his knees, and slid trembling hands beneath

  the edge of the slab pinning her leg. The weight bit into his palms; his ribs screamed.

  “On three,” he rasped. “One… two”

  He heaved.

  The concrete shifted just enough for her to pull free. She bit back a cry as the motion tore open the

  wound on her thigh. Blood streaked the frost. When Kyle let go, the slab fell with a dull thud that

  echoed like thunder in the frozen quiet.

  For a breath, neither of them spoke. Then Abby followed the direction of the alien’s gaze.

  Her stomach dropped.

  Bash stood fifty yards away, framed in the glow of scattered fires, small against the ruin. His stance

  was rigid, both hands clutching the belt of throwing knives and stars Kyle had once trained him with in

  the backyard. The set his grandfather had given him for “discipline and focus.”

  Now they were all he had.

  “Bash…” Abby whispered, voice breaking.

  Kyle turned and saw him too. The air left his lungs in a single, strangled sound. “No.”

  The Spartor’s head tilted, its focus narrowing.

  “Run!” Kyle shouted, but his voice came out weak, more plea than command.

  The alien started moving. Each step carved deeper frost into the street.

  Abby’s leg buckled as she tried to stand. Pain seared through her, forcing a limp that turned every

  movement into agony. She grabbed a shard of steel from the ground and threw it. It clanged off the

  Spartor’s shoulder, embedding halfway into the metal fused along its back. The creature didn’t even

  turn.

  Kyle bent, coughing hard. Blood stained his teeth when he wiped his mouth. “Keep throwing!”

  She did. Rocks, glass, twisted bits of rebar anything within reach. They struck home, one after another,

  sticking in the alien’s side, its thigh, its arm. It didn’t slow.

  Bash still hadn’t moved. His eyes were locked on the monster bearing down on him. Then, with a small

  jerk, he reached for one of the knives, flipped it once in his palm the way Kyle had taught him, and

  threw.

  The blade flew true, spinning end-over-end, until the Spartor flicked its wrist. A wall of cold air

  deflected it mid-flight; the knife shattered into glittering fragments.

  The alien’s pace quickened. It broke into a run.

  “Move!” Abby screamed.

  Bash turned and sprinted, small legs pumping, the bundle of weapons clattering at his hip. The

  Spartor’s strides ate the distance four to his one. Frost exploded beneath its feet, shards of ice flaring

  outward with every step.

  Kyle pushed off a half-collapsed wall, forcing his battered body into motion. His left arm hung useless;

  his side burned like fire. Each breath came out in wet gasps, but he ran anyway.

  “Bash!” he shouted, voice cracking.

  The boy veered toward the skeleton of a civilian transport lying on its side. The hull was half-crushed,

  windows blown out. He dove through the broken doorway just as the Spartor slammed into it shoulderfirst.

  The sound was cataclysmic. Metal shrieked. The entire vehicle skidded across the ice, plowing into a

  building with an explosion of dust and glass.

  Inside, Bash was tossed like a rag doll. He slammed against the seatbacks, ribs first, then bounced to

  the floor as the transport ground to a stop. The last intact window shattered above him, spraying glass

  across his back and arms. Thin red lines opened along his skin. He coughed, wheezing, every breath

  shallow and hot.

  Outside, the Spartor stood over the wreckage, chest heaving. Frost radiated outward in a spiderweb. It

  grabbed the side door and ripped it off as easily as tearing paper. The twisted frame shrieked as it flew

  across the street and embedded itself in a wall.

  The alien crouched, peering inside with its one unblinking eye.

  Bash froze, pressed against the floor, heart hammering so loud he was sure it would give him away.

  Through the dust he saw the glow sweeping left to right as the alien scanned. Its breath sounded like

  wind through a cave, steady, predatory.

  He spotted a narrow break in the opposite wall: a collapsed section leading into the neighboring

  building. Rubble filled most of the gap, but a child could fit.

  He crawled, every movement scraping glass deeper into his skin. The alien’s shadow shifted; it was

  leaning closer.

  Bash pushed harder, the jagged concrete tearing his sleeve. One cut opened across his arm, but he

  didn’t stop. The moment his feet cleared the hole, he rolled into darkness and pressed flat against the

  cold floor of the next room.

  The alien’s hand reached in a heartbeat later. Fingers the size of steel girders clawed through the

  transport’s interior, tearing seats apart. It searched once, twice, then stopped. The glow of its eye

  brightened, and it exhaled a plume of frost.

  Nothing.

  It couldn’t find him.

  The Spartor hesitated. It tilted its head, the movement jerky, almost puzzled. The breath from its

  nostrils came in short bursts. When no movement came from within the wreckage, the creature

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  straightened to its full height.

  Its gaze turned.

  Across the street, Abby was still shouting, hoarse, desperate, limping through debris as she hurled

  stones to draw it away. Kyle stood a few yards away from her, bent at the waist, one hand gripping his

  ribs. His face was gray under the blood streaking it.

  The Spartor’s focus locked on them again. The pause ended.

  Kyle saw it happen, the flicker of recognition in that single blue eye, and knew what came next. He

  forced his breath through clenched teeth and pushed off the wall. “Abby, move!”

  She turned toward him, one leg dragging, the other barely supporting her. “I can’t, he’s going for

  Bash!”

  “I know.” His voice cracked into a cough. Blood splattered the frost. “I’ll draw it.”

  Before she could stop him, he stepped forward. His knife hung loose in his right hand, the blade

  shaking from exhaustion. His boots slipped on the ice as he advanced, each step leaving smears of red.

  He didn’t have the strength for another fight, but he had enough to get its attention.

  The Spartor began to walk again, slower now, studying him. Its right side still oozed blue from the liver

  wound; steam rose from its body in rhythmic bursts. The metallic patches across its torso glimmered

  like cooling armor. With each step, the ground frosted deeper, the air temperature dropping until Kyle’s

  breath came out as dense white clouds.

  Abby limped after him, shouting, “Kyle, stop!”

  He didn’t. He couldn’t. His whole body trembled, but he raised the dagger, blade catching the orange

  light of burning buildings. “Over here, you bastard.”

  The Spartor’s gaze shifted fully to him. It stopped, crouched slightly, and the air between them crackled

  with static. Frost spider-webbed outward from its feet. Kyle could feel the pull of the temperature

  change in his lungs.

  It roared and charged.

  The sound alone nearly knocked him back. He dove aside as its arm swung past, the wind of it

  slamming into him like a physical blow. The creature’s momentum carried it forward several steps,

  skidding on the ice. It turned back, eye burning.

  Abby threw another piece of metal. It struck the alien’s shoulder with a dull clang. It didn’t react.

  Behind them, inside the shattered building, Bash lay in the shadows watching through a hole in the

  wall. He could see everything: his father limping, his mother screaming, the monster between them.

  Fear rooted him in place. Every nerve screamed to run, but his mind replayed his father’s words,

  “protect your sister”.

  He crawled deeper into the darkness, clutching one last throwing knife, the blade slick with his own

  blood.

  Outside, the Spartor moved again. It had lost the restraint it had shown before; its swings were wild

  now, almost feral. Kyle dodged one, then another, but each motion cost him. His breath came in ragged

  pulls. His left side burned where the earlier blow had cracked ribs. He was fading fast.

  Abby tried to help, pelting the alien from a distance. One shard of rebar embedded deep into its

  shoulder. It glanced her way, hissed low, and she felt her stomach twist, its focus shifting again.

  “Hey!” Kyle shouted, voice barely audible. “Eyes on me!”

  He lunged forward with the dagger, driving it toward the same wound in its side. The blade sank an

  inch before the alien swatted him away. He flew backward, hit the ground, rolled once, and stayed

  down. His vision went black around the edges.

  Abby screamed his name.

  The Spartor turned back toward her. Its movements quickened. The frost around its feet shimmered

  with light as it began to run again.

  Abby limped backward, stumbling over debris, every instinct telling her to flee though she knew she

  couldn’t outrun it. She threw another rock, then another. They struck its chest, its arm, sticking in

  shallow wounds. Nothing mattered. It was coming.

  The alien covered the distance in seconds. Its arm drew back, ready to strike.

  Inside the collapsed building, Bash moved. He crawled toward the gap, teeth clenched, eyes locked on

  the blue light outside. He raised the knife, breath steady despite the blood dripping from his fingers.

  Outside, the Spartor halted abruptly, head cocking slightly, as if hearing something. Then, slowly, it

  turned its single glowing eye toward the rubble where Bash hid.

  Abby’s heart seized. “NO!”

  The alien began to advance again, ignoring everything else. Each footfall shook the ground. Abby kept

  shouting, throwing, bleeding. Kyle struggled to rise, one knee in the dirt, vision swimming. “Bash, stay

  down!” he coughed.

  The Spartor didn’t stop.

  It reached the shattered transport and ripped another piece away, peering in again. When it still couldn’t

  see the boy, it stepped closer to the hole in the wall, lowering its massive head to peer inside.

  Abby hurled one last stone. It cracked against the back of its neck and broke apart. “Over here!” she

  screamed, her voice tearing apart on the word.

  The alien hesitated, the glow of its eye flickering once. Slowly, it straightened. The sound it made was

  low, guttural, almost a growl of irritation. It turned toward her.