Patrick clambered over the pickets and wove through familiar alleys. He jumped into the first grate he saw and pulled out a rifle and a box of bullets. He cut his knees on the drain edge as he climbed out, then bolted through the hordes running in the opposite direction to escape the town limits.
It took only minutes to reach the havoc. The closer he came to the heart of Kenton, the louder the destruction, the more cloying the smoke. He shot three men in Artisan navy before they could turn to see him streaking past. He threw the full weight of his body into a soldier straddling a woman on the sidewalk, her sleeves ripped free of her shoulders. He pressed his pistol into his gut and fired.
The town square was somewhere ahead, and it all seemed engulfed from the sight of its rooftops. Just
