“Acknowledged, Lead Recruit. I’ll send a couple of soldiers to bring him in. Take your team and get to the air intakes. Call when you locate them.”
“Yes, Sir.”
I cut the transmission and turn back to the guard.
“It’s your lucky day. Opening that shutter just became a low priority. Our commander is sending someone to talk to you, so I suggest you sit here and think about what your next move might be.” I drop my voice to a whisper. “I’d recommend cooperating. It beats taking bullets.”
He coughs, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
“Taking bullets …” he coughs again, and shifts his position against the wall. “Taking bullets beats shooting at children.” His cold eyes follow mine as I stand up.
It takes all my self-control to keep my gun lowered as I turn and walk out of the gatehouse.
Breathing
We walk back into the woods, visors up to give us as much light as possible. We leave the gatehouse for the brigadier’s guards, when they arrive. Not our problem any more. The farmyard is behind us, and so are the floodlights, so we’re picking our way along the path with torches.
We’re looking for a small building – a hut, or a shed – where the air supply for the bunker comes up from the ground. With the trees growing so close together, finding it feels impossible, but the brigadier is convinced it will be near the path, somewhere to our left.
Our six torches don’t throw much light, but between us we’re lighting up as much of the space between the trees as we can. On our first pass, we walk right past it. The path widens and the trees disappear, and we’re standing on the shore of a lake.
I activate the private channel to Brigadier Lee.
“Sir? Sir – we’re at the edge of the woods. No ventilation pipes.”
“Lead Recruit. Nice of you to check in. Describe your surroundings.”
I look around, swinging my torch over the path and the water in front of us.
“It’s a lake, Sir. The path splits and heads round both sides, but we can’t go any further without getting wet.”
There’s a pause while he checks his records.
“That’s too far. You need to come back and look again. It should be less than half way between you and the gatehouse. Closer to the lake, but not by much.”
“Understood, Sir. We’re on our way.”
“Ketty? Hurry. Bracken’s not getting anywhere with the prisoners, and we need to make a move before anyone else wakes up. We don’t know what kind of warning system they have in the bunker.”
“Yes, Sir.”
We walk back along the path, stepping into the woods to shine the torches into hollows in the ground and check out fallen trees. I’m making the most of my PowerGel, walking between the trees, climbing over roots and rotting logs, when someone shouts ahead of me.
“Lead Recruit! Take a look!”
I follow the waving torch beam through the trees, and join the rest of the team. We’re looking at a heap of evergreen branches, piled waist-high next to a fallen tree. Close to the path, but hard to spot in the darkness. Two of the soldiers step forward, and start to pull the branches away from the top of the pile while the rest of us hold the torches.
They’ve pulled a layer of branches off the top when the front of the pile topples, and falls towards us. Underneath is a small wooden box, about the size of a supply crate, with panelled sides and a waterproofed roof. I can’t help smiling.
Got you.
We all step in and pull the rest of the branches away.
“Steadman. All yours. Tell me what we’ve got.”
Steadman drops to his knees in front of the box, and we all aim our torches at the wooden panels in front of him. He pokes the edges and the joints in the wood, but nothing moves. He reaches up and pushes against the lid instead, and I let out a breath as it lifts away, pivoted on hinges at the back. He pushes it all the way back, and it falls and rests against the fallen tree. He reaches inside and slides back the bolts on the front panel, which drops outwards onto his knees, exposing a bundle of metal pipework.
“Is that it, Steadman? Is that what we’re looking for?”
He bends down, shining his torch between the pipes. I’m holding my breath.
“I think so, Lead Recruit.” He straightens up. “I think we’ve got them.”
I’m smiling as I give Lee the good news.
“Thank you, Lead Recruit. Ask Steadman to verify the fittings and the connections. I’ll send the equipment to your location. Wait for my instructions.”
“Yes, Sir … Steadman! The brigadier wants to know what connectors we need. Can you work it out?”
Steadman pulls a roll of tools and tape measures from his belt and lays them out on the ground, then leans his head into the mess of pipes and starts to assess the sizes of the inlet filters.
I’m in control. I’m in command, and I’m going to give Lee what he’s waiting for. The feeling is electric.
“Give me a few minutes.”
“I’ll give you two.” I walk over to the box and shine my torch onto the pipework. “Everyone else? Torches on the path. We’ll have company in a moment. The help is heading our way – make sure they can find us.”
I watch Steadman work. He’s kneeling over the pipes, torch in his mouth, feeling out the connections with his fingertips in the dark.
“Can we do it? Are the filters here?”
He takes the torch from between his teeth and grins at me.
“I think so. And I think it’s going to be easy.”
This is it, Ketty. This is where you show Lee what you can do.
“Sir!” I can’t hide my smile as I call the brigadier again. “Steadman says we’re go.” I glance at Steadman and he gives me a nod. “Officially requesting the nerve agent, Sir.”
Lee takes a moment to respond, and it’s all I can do not to repeat myself.
“Understood, Lead Recruit. We’re moving into position. Stand by.”
We’re going to get them. We’re going to take down a terrorist cell, and we’re going to take Ellman and her friends with them.
Sleep tight, Recruits. Sweet dreams.
I stand with Steadman, watching as he unscrews the end of a thick pipe with his fingertips and pulls out a cylinder of grey plastic with layers of metal mesh at each end. There’s a serial number on the side.
“Got it. That’s the intake filter.” He puts his head down, level with the pipe. “Standard equipment should do it.”
This is going to be easy. This is going to work.
“Thank you, Steadman.”
“Lead Recruit! Status!” It’s Bracken, calling on a private channel.
Bracken, who doesn’t know I’m back here.
Breathe, Ketty. Stay calm.
“Sir!”
“Status, Ketty. Where are you, and why aren’t you in the farmyard with the rest of the team?”
They must have finished searching the house.
Be confident. This is Lee’s problem, not yours.
“Sir. Sorry, Sir. Just checking out something in the woods.”
There’s a pause. “In the woods?”
“Yes, Sir. Something caught my eye. We’re checking it out.”
I’m wincing as I speak. I can’t believe how casually I’m admitting to disobeying orders.
“Lead Recruit! Get your team back here. Now!”
“Yes, Sir.”
Come on, Lee. Help me out.
Steadman looks up at me.
“Problem?”
“I’m not sure. Keep working. I’ll sort this out.”
Keep it together. Stay in control.
I hesitate, wondering what to do. I can’t leave the ventilation pipes, but I can’t let Bracken figure out what I’m doing. I’m about to call the brigadier when my radio activates again.
“New orders, Lead Recruit. Lee wants your assessment of whatever it is you’re looking at. Keep going. We’ll call if we need you.”
Bra
cken sounds hesitant, unsure of himself. But now I know that Lee is monitoring communications. And I know he’s got my back.
You can do this, Ketty.
There are voices on the path, and more torch beams sweep over the ventilation box. The equipment is arriving.
*****
We’re surrounded by crates and tools and pieces of metal. It’s getting crowded on the path – the soldiers who brought us the crates are waiting for the order to connect the gas tanker to the ventilation system, but they’re waiting here in case the order is to abort. Seven crates need fourteen people to carry them.
Steadman is working quickly and calmly, and the rest of my team is helping out – handing him tools, holding torches, searching through crates and boxes for the things he needs.
This is what I’m good at. Keeping everyone focused. Getting things done.
And it feels good.
I’ve updated the brigadier twice, but he’s gone quiet. It’s frustrating to be stuck out here, away from the action, away from Bracken, and away from the prisoners.
Come on, Lee. Talk to me.
I watch my team working together. “Steadman. Where are we?”
“We’re good,” he calls back to me, a screwdriver held in his teeth. There are three of them, kneeling in front of the pipes, hands inside the tangle of pipework, working together to fit a collar to the inlet filter as quietly as they can.
This is my team. No fuss. No drama. Getting the job done.
Steadman drops the screwdriver, pulls his hands away and gives me a thumbs up. “We’re ready. The collar is attached. I just need the first length of hose.” The others pull their hands out and stand up, rolling their shoulders and shaking life back into their arms. They’ve been kneeling there for ages.
I step between the crates, searching for a short length of hose with a metal collar on each end. I find it on the path, where several of the crates have been unpacked.
“This?” I shine my torch at the component in my hand.
“That’s it. Thanks!”
I walk it over to him, and watch while he connects it to the intake filter. It’s a quick, neat job, and when he tugs on the hose to test the connection, nothing moves. He grins at me, and I grin back.
“Nice work, Steadman. Thank you.”
Lee’s voice shouts into my earpiece.
“Report, Lead Recruit.”
Come on, Ketty. This is where you show him what you can do.
“Sir, we’re ready. The connector is in place. All we need now is the hose.”
“Send the teams back, Lead Recruit. You and Steadman, stay where you are, but send the others back to me.”
“Yes, Sir.” I cut the connection.
“Listen up!” I shout into the woods. “You’re needed back at the farmyard. Head back, and wait for instructions. Steadman – you’re with me.”
The other members of my team jog away with the soldiers, back towards the house. Steadman and I make a start at putting equipment back into the crates.
I realise I’m laughing to myself. In a few minutes, we’ll have them. We’ll be sending our poison into the bunker, and there will be nothing they can do to protect themselves. The feeling of power hits me again. There’s nothing they can do to stop us. Lee’s mission will be a success, and the terrorist cell will be gone.
There’s a noise from the path. I look up, to see torch beams returning. I’m about to step out and help with the hose, when I realise that the soldiers are back too soon. I haven’t had an update from Lee, and there shouldn’t be anyone else on the path. I wave a torch at Steadman and gesture him to move back into the woods.
I switch off my torch, hook it back on my belt, and unclip my gun. Keeping the barrel pointing downwards to hide the targeting light, I activate the power, and move towards the path as quietly as I can, challenging the PowerGel as my foot slips on the uneven ground.
The pain stays away. I take another step, testing the way ahead with my foot.
Concentrate, Ketty.
The torches are approaching. I can see figures, lit by the torch beams.
Figures in armour. Guns in combat-ready holds, rucksacks were their guns should be.
This isn’t Lee’s soldiers.
This is the terrorists, making their escape in the armour they stole from the coach.
Walking right past me.
Not today, kids. Not on my watch.
I step out onto the path, ahead of the quiet figures, my gun raised.
Someone at the head of the group cries out as their torch picks out my armour against the darkness of the trees, and they notice the light from my gun. Everyone stumbles to a halt.
I look at the figures in front of me. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but I think some of these are kids. I think these are my recruits, and their new friends. Not many of them, but that works for me.
Maybe Lee will get his prisoners after all.
And maybe I can be the one to bring them in.
I take a deep breath, and give my best parade-ground yell.
“Tiny fighters!”
There’s a gasp from the figure in the lead, and I’m dazzled for a second by a torch beam playing over my face.
Take a good look, recruit. Understand who is standing between you and escape.
A torch beam flashes across the lead figure’s face. His visor’s up, like mine, to make it easier to see in the dark. I watch as he blinks, staring at me.
It’s Taylor.
Perfect.
I feel as if I’m back at Camp Bishop. I know who’s in charge here, and so does he.
I give him a recruit-scaring grin.
“Always a pleasure, Recruit Taylor. What have you got for me today? Insults and insubordination? Crying with a side of begging?” I crane my neck to look at the armoured figures huddled on the path behind him. “Have you brought me some friends to play with?”
He raises his gun and points it at my chest.
I run a quick head count. Twelve of them. One of me. But Taylor is the only one with his gun raised. If these are the guns from the coach, then they’re only using training bullets. I’ll be safe in my armour.
Your move, Recruit.
There’s the sound of a twig snapping in the woods next to me, and from the corner of my eye I see the light on Steadman’s gun barrel come on. He steps away from me, back along the path, and fires a warning shot over the heads of the group behind Taylor.
There are shouts and screams, and the group starts to move, running past me and Taylor towards the lake. I aim into the air and pull my trigger, and the confusion spreads.
Stay in control. Stay calm.
Steadman starts to call for help on the radio. The others run past us, but Taylor stands, gun aimed at my chest, unaffected by the panic. When torch beams touch his face, his expression is cold, determined. Chilling.
Big, brave Taylor. Go on then.
Steadman steps out onto the path behind him. Taylor takes a step towards me, and Steadman fires. His shot grazes Taylor’s shoulder, and splinters of shattered armour spring up from the impact.
Afraid yet, Recruit?
Taylor stumbles forward. I step back, and he pulls the trigger as he stands up.
Three shots.
Three times, he sends bullets towards me.
Crack. A bullet thuds into the ground next to my foot.
Step back.
Crack. A bullet grazes the armour on my right calf.
Another step.
Crack. A bullet whistles past my knee.
There’s a tiny sound, where the bullet touches something as it passes.
I look down, distracted, while Steadman fires again, and Taylor turns his fall into a run, pushing past me and following his friends along the path.
There’s shouting from behind me, but something is wrong with my knee, and I can’t turn round.
Move, Ketty.
I’m frozen, and I don’t understand what Taylor has done. Everything is happening in slow motion.<
br />
Taylor is shouting, and other voices are joining in. I stare at Steadman, in front of me on the path, and I watch as the chest panel of his armour dents twice, and then explodes. He staggers backwards, tripping as he goes down, and falls away between the trees. The sound of gunfire is loud in my ears, but I’m not processing things properly. I’m not paying attention.
The pain is back.
And it’s the pain that saves me.
My knee lights up with all the damage I’ve done this week. All the pushing and testing and training I’ve made myself do, so I could be here tonight. So I could stop the kids from getting away. A ball of white light pushes its way outwards from the centre of the dead PowerGel, and I stagger forwards. My right leg can’t support me, and I pitch over onto the path, my gun still held in a combat grip.
My chin hits the ground, and my neck twists. There’s blood in my mouth, and my hands are still on my gun as my nose bounces off the floor.
I’m trying not to scream.
Bullets are snapping past me, Taylor and his friends aiming much too high to hit me, now that I’m on the ground.
Move. Get off the path.
I let go of my gun with one hand, and focus on getting myself into the trees. At first I can’t move, then I think about the barbed wire tunnels on the assault course, and I know I can do this. I start to drag myself forward with my fingers while pushing with my left foot. My right leg drags behind me, carrying a white-hot flame in my knee.
Keep moving.
I can’t drag myself and carry the gun. I pause, lift the rifle, and throw it into the trees. Then I’m back into the rhythm again, pushing and pulling myself over the rough ground.
The bullets have stopped. Torch beams play over the tree trunks above my head, but I’m on the ground in black armour. Once I’m off the path, I freeze, clenching my fists against the pain.
You’re safe, Ketty. Keep your head down.
There’s angry shouting from the path behind me.
Taylor.
“Let me go! Let me find her. I’m going to kill her. I’m going to put a bullet in her.”
Another voice.
“Jake, come on. We’re done here. We need to keep going.”
“Let me go!”
The Battle Ground Series: Books 1-3 Page 39