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  “Anything?” he asked the man watching the door and was answered with a grim head shake. Elias looked down the dark and smoky hallway as two people rounded the corner. He raised his rifle and immediately lowered it when he realized it was two of their own. One of the newer guys and Jack Porter, the team leader. Porter’s shirt was stained with blood and he walked with a limp.

  Elias grabbed Jack by the other arm and helped him outside. “What happened? Where’s the rest of the team?”

  “We got split up,” Jack said through clenched teeth. “Ambush outside of the boiler room. Lost four of our guys.”

  “Shit.” The news hit Elias hard. Up until that moment the mission had gone without a hitch. No casualties. Suddenly learning four of their own were gone was a blow he wasn’t prepared for. “Wait, only four? What about Mike and the escaped guy? Hank?”

  “I sent Mike with Hank to find his wife. They aren’t back yet?”

  They approached the trucks and Grayson shook his head at the news. “It’s a damn shame, but we did our best.”

  “Wait,” Joanna stepped forward. “We’re not going to leave them here are we?”

  “No time,” Elias said. “Hank knew what he was getting into and finding his wife wasn’t the mission. He didn’t have to go in with the teams. We planted the bomb, got the footage, and saved all these guys.” He waved at the trucks. “That’s the mission.”

  “That’s bullshit!” Joanna snapped. “If we leave without all our people then we’re no better than them.” She nodded at the group of soldier prisoners held at gunpoint.

  “She’s right,” Grayson said quietly.

  “James,” Elias started.

  “Without Hank we never would’ve gotten this far. We owe it to him to make sure he’s out of there alive and if he ain’t, then a proper burial with honor. We’re wasting valuable time talking about it.” He nodded at Joanna. “Sounds to me like you’re volunteering to go back in.”

  She nodded.

  “Take Randy with you.”

  “No,” Elias said. “I’ll go. I’ll be damned if I get shown up by a woman.” He winked at Joanna.

  “We’ll wait as long as possible,” Grayson said.

  Elias handed him the cell phone. “Ten minutes. If we’re not back by then get out of here and blow this place to hell. We’ll at least try to get out of the blast zone and catch up at the rendezvous, if it comes to that.”

  Joanna and Elias checked their weapons as they ran back into the plant.

  Chapter 33

  In the split second it took before Sanderson’s weapon fired, he remembered. His call sign was Buzzard. It was Buzzard with his back to him, Buzzard that took the bullet in the back. Buzzard who died before he hit the floor. Sanderson swung his gun at Viper but Viper was quicker. Damn, he was quick.

  The round fired from Viper’s gun was so close, Sanderson could practically feel the heat from the bullet as it shot past his face at over eight hundred miles per hour. He lost his balance and slammed up against the wall, sliding to the floor and firing his gun the whole way.

  Except he wasn’t. The slide was locked into the open position caused by the stuck shell casing from the cartridge that killed Buzzard. Jammed. Before he could try to clear the action, Viper had him dead to rights, his fully functioning 9mm pointed squarely at his chest.

  He was going to die now. John didn’t feel particularly scared. The simple fact hung in front of him plain as day, as if somebody painted the words on a sign and held it before him.

  You’re going to die now.

  Viper glanced at Sanderson’s useless weapon and a smile crept over his face. “Well, ain’t that a bitch? Leave it on the floor and get up.”

  Sanderson did as he was told. “Just do it.”

  Viper shook his head. “You know it won’t be that easy, Razorback. Or I suppose it should be Sanderson, now. I’m taking you in, Johnny-boy. You’ll be dead soon enough, but not until after we get you in the chair and have you spill your guts. In more ways than one.”

  The door behind Viper that he’d been banging on just seconds earlier opened. A man’s face appeared in the doorway. Without hesitation, Viper swung his gun in the resident’s direction and pulled the trigger without taking his eyes off Sanderson. The man’s face exploded to mush and his body crumpled to the floor as the door swung wide open. A woman in the room beyond started screaming at the carnage.

  “Your fault, Sanderson.” Viper said. “You’re the one that ran in here and put these people in danger. The whole floor just turned tier one. Maybe even the whole building.”

  The man’s wife crouched over her husband’s body in the doorway, wailing at the top of her lungs. Viper pointed his gun at her.

  “Stop!” Sanderson held up his hands. “Leave them alone. It’s me you want, you sick fuck.”

  “Just following protocol, John. Something you were never all that good at.” Viper’s gaze moved to the left of Sanderson and his grin widened. John turned around to see little Sara standing in the doorway, eyes wide with her thumb in her mouth. Viper clucked his tongue. “So that’s where you were hiding. What a shame. Aiding and abetting a known felon at such a young age.” He pointed his gun at the girl.

  John lunged at him, clearing the distance in one leap. Sara screamed. Viper could’ve gotten off a shot, but Sanderson believed he really wanted to take him in alive, just to get the chance for a long and painful interrogation. Viper hesitated with his trigger finger to Sanderson’s advantage. Both men wrestled for the gun in Viper’s hand. Sanderson received a blow to his stomach, another in the kidneys. He hooked his leg around Viper and pushed, resulting in both men crashing to the hallway floor.

  The gun slipped out of Viper’s hand and Sanderson swatted it away out of reach. With his left hand on Viper’s throat, he connected with a right hook, splitting open his cheek. Viper managed to block the next blow and countered with his own punch, dead center in Sanderson’s nose, filling his vision with stars. John’s hands went to his face out of reflex and before he had the chance to make his next move, a brilliant and intense pain shot from his arm.

  He fell back to the floor, staring at the handle of the knife sticking out of his upper arm. Dark red blood had already started to ooze through the shirtsleeve. He gritted his teeth to keep from screaming and tried to scramble backwards, knowing that his gun was somewhere down the hall behind him.

  Viper got to his feet, breathing hard and grinning like a maniac. He touched his bleeding cheek and took a step toward Sanderson. Sanderson looked behind him, almost blacking out from the intense pain in his arm, and saw his gun six feet away. He tried crawling backward but it was no use. Viper towered over him, practically begging him with his eyes to go for the gun.

  John flinched as a shot filled the hallway. Viper frowned and looked down as blood slowly soaked into the front of his orange t-shirt. A single gasp escaped his lips before he fell forward right on top of Sanderson. He pushed Viper’s body off him with his good arm to expose the woman from down the hall, no longer crying and holding Viper’s smoking gun in her shaking hands. She held it pointed at Sanderson’s chest.

  Sanderson slowly held up his hands, locking his eyes with the woman. She finally lowered the gun and let it slip from her fingers. The woman slowly turned away without a word and went back to kneeling on the floor next to her dead husband.

  Despite the ringing in his ears from the gunshots, Sanderson heard another noise, a tinny squeaking or scratching coming from close by. Viper’s ear piece had partially fallen out. John reached for it, ignoring Viper’s dead stare and held the receiver to his own ear.

  “…iper. Come in. Reinforcements to your position, ETA five minutes. Do you copy? Viper!”

  Sanderson dropped it and sat up. Sara still stood in the doorway, her thumb back in her mouth. “I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I…I shouldn’t have come here.” The woman at the end of the hall turned to him. She’d stopped crying and stared at him with glazed eyes. John got to his feet, clutc
hing his arm with the knife still sticking out.

  “I’m sorry.” He stumbled down the hall and out the door on the other end of the building. He staggered out into the daylight, leaving the death behind him, knowing that more was on the way once the operators arrived. Razorback was no longer one of them, but another little girl would probably die, thanks to him.

  Chapter 34

  Hank fought to keep his eyes open. All he wanted to do was lie down next to his wife one last time, wrap his arms around her, and let unconsciousness take him. The side of his face throbbed, only matched by the steady pain from his leg. He placed his hand on the floor, trying to adjust his position and it came away wet. A pool of blood was forming beneath him. His blood.

  He shook his head and took a deep breath. He knew the bomb could go off at any second and he fought to stay awake, fought to spend his last moments with Peg. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again and realized he’d been saying it over and over. “Hold on, baby.” He ran fingers through her hair. “It’ll be over soon and we won’t wake up somewhere else this time.”

  So cold. He pulled Peg closer and closed his eyes, just for a second. When he forced them open again, he saw Lieutenant Hendricks standing over him.

  Chapter 35

  Sanderson returned to his tent in the pig pen, trying to convince himself they wouldn’t think to go back and look for him there. He knew it was bullshit, but he had nowhere else to go. Besides, a guy with a bloody arm would turn less heads in a homeless shanty town than out in the street.

  Pulling the knife out was easier than expected but he did come close to losing consciousness thanks to the blood loss and pain as the blade pulled free. They hadn’t provisioned the tent with any first aid supplies so the best he could do was splash a little drinking water on the wound and hold a clean t-shirt on it to stop the bleeding.

  He looked at his bag and was a little surprised the tent hadn’t been ransacked while they were gone. They hadn’t even zipped the door up. Perhaps the pig pen had a list of unwritten rules, the code of the homeless, that discouraged theft between the equally unfortunate. Not that there was anything worth stealing other than some clothes.

  Sanderson still had his gun, a Glock G30S on loan from Grayson’s weapons cache, and three ten-round mags in his pocket. In his other pocket he had seventy dollars and change, with no chance of legally obtaining any more. He’d been lucky to withdraw what he could before his accounts were frozen, and any attempt now would just help the State track him down.

  He pulled the blood-soaked shirt away from his arm and inspected the gash. He could use some stitches, but at least the blood had clotted. He grabbed his remaining clean shirt and wrapped it around his arm the best he could. He sat for a moment, trying to slow his breathing and ignore the pain. He yearned to return to his cool, clean, and well-appointed apartment. Just a few blocks away. He’d take a few pain pills and wash it down with an icy cold beer before enjoying a hot shower. He’d dress in his own clothes, slip into his own bed, and sleep for days.

  “Knock it off,” Sanderson said out loud and forced himself to stand up. No good could come from thinking such thoughts. What he really needed to do was concentrate on finding a way out of the city to the rendezvous point.

  He unzipped the tent door and stepped out. Daylight was fading fast and the pig pen took on a livelier, almost festive air, as the pick pockets and pan handlers returned home for the evening. John caught a whiff from a cooking fire and his stomach rumbled.

  He passed a shack constructed of old pallets, cardboard, and sheet metal, and noticed a woman sitting out front. She had to be pushing eighty, if not older. Her face was weathered and wrinkled, her body bent over and frail, but when she smiled at him with a toothless grin, John saw the clarity and wisdom in her eyes. He nodded at her and kept moving, suddenly feeling hopeful for the first time that day since he’d seen his wife. Perhaps if an old woman like that could hide from the State in plain sight, clearly well past her retirement day, there was hope for him yet. Hope for all of them.

  Chapter 36

  The lieutenant’s nose was a mangled mess and his left eye was completely swollen shut. Blood oozed from a large gash over his other eye. He was wobbly on his feet and barely able to keep his balance, but he shuffled forward. His right arm hung limp but he still held onto his government issue M9.

  Hank said nothing and made no effort to get away or even move. It was over. He simply held on to his unconscious wife, ready for the madman in front of him to end his life. He was glad Peg wouldn’t be aware when Hendricks turned the gun on her.

  Hendricks turned his head and spat a large wad of blood, deliberately aiming for the face of a retiree close by.

  “Bull’s eye!” he shouted. “Don’t you ever watch the movies, Reed? You never turn your back on the bad guy. You always make sure he’s dead, you stupid son of a bitch.” He touched his swollen eye and winced. Laughed. “Is that how you see me? The bad guy?” More laughter.

  Hank could see Hendricks talking but still couldn’t hear a thing. It didn’t matter. All he wanted to do was sleep.

  “I like that,” the lieutenant continued. “I think I like being the bad guy.” He raised his gun and aimed it at Peg. “I’m going to shoot your wife and then you. Not that bad? Well how about when I’m done here I track down that sweet young thing of a daughter. I still have big plans for her.”

  Hendricks pulled the trigger but nothing happened. Hank flinched. Hendricks frowned and inspected his gun with his good eye. “Oops. When did I put the safety on?” He pointed the gun back at Peg.

  Hank heard the gunshot over the ringing in his ears but it hadn’t come from Hendricks. Hank blinked and in that time it seemed as if half of the lieutenant’s head simply vaporized. The gun dropped from his hand and he fell to the floor.

  Before Hank slipped into the darkness, he saw them on the other side of the room. A man and woman from one of the other teams. The woman lowering the rifle she used to save him. As they rushed over, he desperately wanted tell them to take Peg, to save her and not leave her behind. But he couldn’t make his mouth form the words before the world turned to black.

  Chapter 37

  The trucks sat idling. James Grayson glanced from his watch, to the road leading into the compound, to the sky, and back to his watch. “We’ve got barely five minutes left,” he said to nobody in particular. The men around him nodded but said nothing. They knew what was at stake with every second that passed by.

  “What are we going to do with these guys?” one of them asked. He nodded at the group of prisoners sitting on the pavement, held at gunpoint. “Are we gonna waste ‘em? No more room on the trucks.”

  Grayson looked at the soldiers. They all looked so young, practically kids. “I think we’ve done enough killing for one day. They surrendered.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea? They’ve gotten a good look at all of us. Especially you.”

  Grayson chuckled. “Hell, I don’t think the State will have any trouble figuring out who’s responsible for this. In fact, I’m counting on it.” He turned to the soldiers. “You men are free to go. We’ll need to keep the cuffs on, but you go on and take off though the woods.”

  They exchanged uncertain glances and nobody moved.

  “That spot you’re sitting in is going to be a smoking crater in just a few minutes. I suggest you haul ass and pray you’ve run far enough.” The soldiers scrambled to their feet and ran off, glancing behind them to make sure they weren’t about to be gunned down by the terrorists.

  “James, look!”

  Grayson was overcome with relief as he saw Elias emerge with Hank draped over his shoulder. Right behind him, Joanna struggled with a sheet-covered unconscious woman. Everybody ran over to help them. Grayson jogged over to the lead truck, the fastest he’d moved in years. “Let’s go! Let’s go!”

  He got into the truck and the driver floored it. Grayson took the phone out of his shirt pocket and tossed it out the window. “No need fo
r that anymore. Son, I’m going to need you to drive as fast as you can without wrapping this thing around a tree.” The driver sped up as much as he could on the narrow road and Grayson peered out the mirror behind them. He took small relief in seeing the three other trucks directly behind them, but knew they were cutting it too close. At the same time, he feared the bomb wouldn’t go off at all.

  He turned to the driver, about to ask him to push the truck harder, when the world around him erupted into a blinding brilliance. A second later, an unseen force slammed into the truck as if a giant hand tried to swat it off the road. “Keep going!” Grayson screamed, barely hearing his own voice. He grabbed the driver by the shirtsleeve. A wave of tree branches, rocks, and dirt rained down on them.

  James rubbed his eyes and looked into the mirror. The other trucks still miraculously followed, but coming up fast behind them was an immense wall of smoke and debris. It enveloped them in seconds, plunging them into darkness.

  Chapter 38

  Hank opened his eyes and immediately shut them as the room spun out of control. He touched the side of his face, covered by a large bandage, and carefully opened his eyes again as the vertigo slowly passed. A low ache throbbed in his ear.

  As his vision cleared, he noticed the two IV bags hanging above him. One filled with clear liquid. The other empty but stained blood red on the inside. Hank attempted to sit up and was greeted by a sharp pain radiating from his leg that caused a yelp to escape from his dry throat. The leg was bandaged too. He took a few deep breaths and tried again, this time succeeding in sitting up slightly so he could take in his surroundings.

  He was in a bedroom with peeling wall paper on the walls and boards covering the single window. A few rays of daylight slipped in through the cracks. A kerosene lantern sat on the table next to the bed but otherwise the room was empty.