Free Cloak (YA Fantasy) by James Gough

long, reflective facemasks burst through the stairwell door and surrounded Will. Two of them hoisted him onto a gurney without a word. The third reported to Kaya, his voice muffled by the mask.
    “The hunter escaped, jumped off the elevator between floors and went through a window. He could be anywhere.”
    Kaya gritted her teeth. “How did a hunter know about the Immune in the first place?”
    “I don’t know. But he knew our positions. He got the drop on me, hit me from behind. I never smelled him coming.”
    “Neither did I. He was good.” Kaya moved beside Will’s gurney. “There’s nothing we can do now but focus on evacuating the Immune. Is everything in place?”
    The man in the reflective mask nodded and handed Kaya a doctor’s coat.
    “Good.” As she put it on, she winced and grabbed her side.
    “You’re hurt.”
    “Just a couple of ribs.”
    “Can you keep up?”
    “Don’t worry about me. I’ve outrun you with worse,” growled Kaya.
    The man snorted behind his mask.
    Kaya took up a position next to Will’s shoulder and gripped the rail of the gurney. The three others did the same. They all crouched low, like a four-man bobsled team ready to start a race. Will was the bobsled.
    “Remember your training. Let’s make this clean and fast. The hunter could be waiting.” Kaya looked down at Will. “I need you to hold on tight and look sick.”
    Will nodded. His stomach was a ball of knots. Looking sick would be easy.
    There was a groan.
    “What about him?” Will pointed to the injured doctor on the other gurney. Kaya had bandaged his cut, but he was still unconscious.
    The cat-woman reached above the doctor and yanked down on a fire alarm. “The Neps will take care of him.” She turned to the others. “Ready?”
    Three hazmat hoods nodded.
    “Let’s move.”
    The burst of speed almost threw Will off the gurney. He squeezed the railings, his knuckles white under his latex gloves. Wind whipped his face and tore at the edges of his hospital gown as they blew around a corner.
    “Make way! This is a code red! Move!” roared Kaya, causing a clot of doctors to spill their coffee as they dove out of the way. The pace was impossibly fast. The four enchants moved with fluid grace, choreographed power. Gurney wheels squealed around the corner. The man at Will’s shoulder sprinted up the wall to avoid a collision. The agents at his feet bounded over food carts, somersaulted in the air, and landed without missing a step.
    “Watch out!” yelled Kaya. A chubby nurse screamed and landed upside down in a bin of towels.
    “I’ll give her an eight on the dive but only a four on the entry,” joked the man running next to Will.
    “Rizz!” Kaya chastised.
    “What?” The man feigned innocence.
    Kaya maintained her glare, even while pirouetting around an orderly with a mop.
    After speeding through the halls, the elevator ride to the basement was surreal. Sappy seventies music played until the bell pinged and the gurney shot through the doors.
    “This way. The transport is in the alley.”
    They roared through the kitchen as cooks upended pots of tomato soup and spilled boxes of potato flakes.
    Bursting through the delivery bay doors, they blinked against the daylight.
    “A bread truck?” Will looked up at the doors of an old, beaten truck from The Long Island Bread Company idling in an alley.
    “It’s standard Special Branch Transport. Top of the line.” Kaya stepped forward and pressed pieces of dried gum stuck to the door of the truck. Like a pre-chewed combination lock, the gum beeped each time her finger made contact—grape, orange, orange, strawberry, lime, grape. After the grape, the tumblers clanked and the door opened.
    “Wilhelm, thank goodness!” Dr. Noctua was waiting inside. “How are you? Where does it hurt?” The gurney was lifted into the truck. The owlish doctor clicked his beak and checked Will’s vitals.
    Will tried to speak, but the doctor shoved a tongue depressor in his