Free Splintered Energy (The Colors Book 1) by Arlene Webb Page B

morning’s news said they’d found some girl with orange skin unconscious in a bar in South Tucson. The reporter guessed a new drug on the streets. Or she ate a boatload of carrots.”
    “Don’t know drugs or carrots. Orange like Damon?”
    “I’m not sure, but this girl…woman’s at the Medical Center. We’re almost there.” The police station would be downtown too, but what the hell. This red guy looked like a warrior in need of clothes and civilizing. He required a mental health consult, not macho men in blue. The deserted streets encouraged him to floor it. Hospital, police, whichever came first, he wanted his strange passenger gone. Five minutes of entranced humming to classical music, and they pulled into the emergency entrance.
    The mercurial redhead stared through broken sunglasses at the large neon sign. He jumped out and over the hood. He growled “thank you” then pivoted toward the entrance.
    The man twisted the wheel on his convertible and floored it.
     
    * * *
     
    Invincible . Damon loped across the lawn. Twenty feet away from the building, he came to an abrupt halt.
    Large sections of glass allowed him to see inside, and he drew a deep breath. Many scents, including large amounts of the pretty fluid—blood—that had been on Jaylynn’s face. White walls, green floor, and the ugly alien that waited to confront him wore a solid white coat. Death everywhere. White couldn’t get through to him, but this seemed impossible.
    For the first time, his fear rose so high he didn’t want to proceed. He fought his head that commanded him to turn and run so fast he’d finally be freed of the body. Something felt wrong inside there. Inch-by-inch, he scanned the building and filtered through hundreds of scents…there, faint, buried under layers. The first purity he’d detected in this tainted world.
    He had to learn what it was, why it was hiding. Dread pounded hard in his chest, and he fled internally while he forced his feet forward. Hugged to the center inside the body, as far away from the skin as he could get, he kept his concealed demon eyes on one of the ugly creatures within. It’d help him, or he’d choke it.
    He raised his hand to smash the door and the glass moved. It took tremendous willpower to wait, but the door opened by itself. The creature at the desk finally saw him.
    “Damon wants psych unit.”
    “Well, sure, you can go to the admitting desk on that floor. Follow the purple letters hanging from the ceiling.” Its hand pointed down the corridor with ugly images, all wrong. He didn’t understand, but desperately needed to flee its blue/white eyes.
    Invincible? His strides rose and fell one escalating step after another. He lost control and surged, panic-stricken, inside his restrictive but protective skin. He ran blind, his eyes closed to block out the terrifying walls, guided by the almost nonexistent scent.
    A minute later, he slowed to change course, go higher. He opened his eyes to a frightful green hall with many white doors. An exit-door with a little window showed stairs. The metal-door cooperated and pushed open to his flat hand. Three steps per stride, he ran four levels and crashed through another swinging door.
    Unable to avoid the walls and ceiling, he doubled over. Pretty droplets cried from his skin. Dissolving? Would he finally die?
    The creature at another desk pounded its airflow too loud, afraid of him. He couldn’t wait for the known to come to him. It’d become even more afraid if he removed its death covering and asked for help. He straightened and swallowed the nausea-water trickling from his mouth.
    One sharp kick blasted another door off its hinges. Not as fragile, it bothered his foot.
    A strong desire to demolish shook him. He gave in to his need and the nearest door shattered. The creature on the bed jerked, and its eyes shone terrified. He spun backward to leap over the splinters of plastic-metal that used to be a door.
    The next obstruction he also