The Worst Kind of Nap
Elara's fingers fumbled across her phone, adrenaline spiking so high she almost dropped it. She could barely steady her hand enough to dial the emergency line, her heart racing louder than any ringtone could've been. The sight of Amara, lying motionless on the pavement, was burned into her mind, an image she wished she could scrub out with a lifetime supply of mind-bleach. Amara, always so quick with her snark and wit, now totally still? It felt surreal and not in a good way.
"Hello?" she said, practically shouting when the dispatcher answered. "Yes, emergency! We're at Maple Avenue; there was… an attack, and my—" she caught herself. "My partner is unconscious. She… she fought off these men who came out of nowhere." She cast a frantic look around, the empty streets and eerie calm after the chaos doing nothing to help her nerves. "Please, just hurry!"