by Lee Stephen
…EDEN had Svetlana.
How was any of this possible?
“Scott?”
Up until that point, Scott had all but ignored the other person who’d stepped forward—but that changed the instant Scott heard his name called. The instant he recognized that voice. Blinking behind his faceless helmet, Scott looked at the shorter operative beside Oleg—the one in a set of armor unlike all the others. Armor Scott had worn himself for two years at Philadelphia Academy. The armor of a cadet in training.
The one with Oleg was his little brother.
Now, Scott lowered his weapon. “Mark? What are you…? How in the world are you even…?” Scott’s head spun. What was this? What was going on?
Mark’s voice was trembling. He looked on the verge of tears. “Turn yourself in, man. Please. You’re gonna be okay, just—”
“What is this?” Scott pointed at Mark, though his head swiveled sternly to Mendoza. “Why is he here?”
“Ask that question to yourself,” Mendoza answered.
Again, Mark addressed him. “Just come with us, man. Please! I know you’re confused, but you’re gonna be okay.”
Leverage. They were using his little brother as leverage. There was zero chance Scott would be okay if he went with them, as Mark was claiming. David had been right. Their families indeed would be used against them. Never once had Scott imagined it’d be like this.
“Who is that?” Natalie asked. “How does he know you?”
Deep in Scott’s veins, his blood was boiling. “Mark Remington. He’s my brother.” Ju`bajai, relay everything I say to these people to everyone in the op team.
The Ithini affirmed.
“Now, will you surrender?” Mendoza asked.
Mark. Svetlana. Who else did EDEN have?
After almost ten seconds passed, Mendoza lowered his chin. Behind his tinted visor, the Hispanic chief’s eyes narrowed. “As you wish.” Angling his head ever so slightly in Oleg’s direction, he said calmly, “Mister Strakhov.”
Shifting behind Mark, Oleg grabbed the cadet by the back of the neck. In one fluid yank, Mark’s helmet was ripped off his head. Jumping out of his skin, Mark gasped at the unexpected maneuver. The next thing Scott saw was Oleg pull out a pistol. Scott flinched as the barrel was pressed against Mark’s head.
“No!” Scott yelled, reaching his hand forward.
His nervous tears now real, Mark cried out, “What in the—what are you doing?” he asked Oleg behind him.
“Now, Mister Remington,” Mendoza seethed with newfound venom, “I suggest you listen.”
As Mark squirmed, Oleg pressed the barrel harder.
Scott’s veins pulsed—his heart pounded like a jackhammer. Behind his faceless helmet, fear was taking over. His brother. His little brother, who had joined EDEN to follow Scott’s own footsteps. Scott reached out to the slayer beside him, whose weapon was still raised. He pulled the barrel of the slayer’s weapon down.
“He’s innocent,” Natalie said, pointing to Mark as her emerald eyes locked onto Mendoza, Oleg, and the others around them. “He has nothing to do with any of this.”
Mendoza looked at Natalie curiously, almost as if noticing her for the first time. His eyes narrowed in scrutiny and then widened when he made the realization. “Captain Natalie Rockwell.” He leaned his head forward and squinted. “Are you really siding with them?”
Staying quiet as if not knowing how to answer, the former Caracal captain shook her head. “This is not how the organization I joined operates.”
“Do we really look like the organization you joined?”
Scott, man, said Javon through the connection, we’re picking up all of this. What you want us to do?
Scott didn’t know. He could scarcely think straight. Just hold. For now, just hold. He wanted no sudden movements—no reason to give Oleg to pull the trigger and blow his little brother’s brains out.
Mark was hyperventilating, his scared eyes wide as Oleg kept the gun barrel against his head. He seemed too terrified to speak.
Scott knew where this was heading. Even if Scott turned himself over in full surrender, there was no way that Mark, Natalie, or anyone else was walking out of there alive. They’d all seen too much. Mendoza just wanted to avoid a bloodstain on his uniform.
“What is your choice, Remington?” Mendoza asked.
“Where is Sveta?” Scott asked, eyes zeroing in on Oleg. Despite his obvious interest in the answer to that question, attaining answers wasn’t his goal. He needed to buy time. What do we have up top besides rubber bullets?
Narrowing his eyes, Oleg asked, “Why don’t you tell me that, fulcrum?”
Tell him that? That didn’t make sense.
The colonel’s voice came to Scott’s mind. There are some rounds of real ammunition here—they’re loadin’ up with ’em now.
That was good, but not a solution. Even if everyone atop the train was fully loaded, they couldn’t get inside the car in the first place.
“Answer, Remington!” Mendoza’s voice screeched in anger. “Will you come quietly, or will we have to spread his brain matter across the floor?” Oleg jostled Mark harder.
Son, we have an idea, said Lilan. Scott was all ears. Give us one second.
The number of seconds Scott had to give was dwindling rapidly. “Who’s behind this?” he asked Mendoza. “That’s the last thing I want to know.” Rapidly running out of time down here, guys.
What side of the car they at? Javon asked.
The front and the back. Mostly the front. With Mark. What are you guys doing?
The Hispanic chief’s face was stoic. “I believe you already know,” he answered Scott.
This time, it was Esther’s voice who emerged. Scott, there are some explosives in the transport.
Explosives?
We’re going to drop them between the cars at the front of the car you’re in. Can you somehow get everyone to the back to escape the blast?
He’d be able to tell her in a second. Drawing in a preparatory breath, he locked eyes with Mendoza, still waiting for Scott’s compliance. Raising one hand in defense, Scott lowered his assault rifle to the ground with the other. “Let Mark go.”
“And your men?” Mendoza asked.
“Like I said. They’ll surrender when you let Mark go.” Have you guys been listening to all this? He asked the group behind him.
Natalie and the slayers mentally acknowledged.
Dipping his head slightly in Oleg’s direction, Mendoza said, “Let him go.” Despite the disappointment evident on Oleg’s face, he thrusted Mark forward. The cadet fell to the floor in front of Scott before scrambling up to his feet to join those under duress.
Raising his hands in the air, Scott slowly stepped forward. Everyone is safe in the middle of the car. Everyone but him. Get ready to drop the bombs.
If there was one stroke of good fortune about what they were about to attempt—setting off explosives on a moving bullet train—it was that the train was running on the ground and not an elevated track. Nonetheless, this crash would be fierce. The moment those explosives drop, I want everyone who isn’t in this train car to board the transport and get in the air. That V2 was their only means of escape. If it went down with the train, they’d have nowhere to go—particularly if EDEN had reinforcements lurking about. Particularly if those reinforcements happened to be Vector. Everybody on the inside, get ready to brace. I need someone to hold Mark. His brother was the only one not privy to the connection.
I have him, one of the slayers answered.
This was suicide. As Scott walked slowly to Mendoza, his hands behind his head, his ears kept listening to the speed of the train. How in the world were they going to survive this? He was preparing for the possibility that they wouldn’t.
I did the best I could, God. If this is the end, let it be painless for my friends.
Wha’ the hell, Remmy? Really?
Scott snarled under his breath. Thanks a lot, Ju`bajai. Eyes focused ahead agai
n, they briefly locked onto Oleg’s. The bearded Russian smirked beneath his visor. Scott wanted to knock that look clean off the scumbag’s face. As soon as Scott was within grabbing distance, several of Mendoza’s men reached out to take him into custody. Their handling of him was violent—he expected no less. Forcing him down to his knees, they stood guard around him as Mendoza cleared his throat.
“Make it quick for all of them.”
In other words, kill the others. It was exactly as Scott thought. The moment they had him in custody, the witnesses would be wiped away. This was never meant to be a meeting without bloodshed. As the EDEN soldiers stepped forward and raised their weapons, Scott quickly issued the order. Drop them! Drop them now!
Droppin’! said Javon. Brace y’allselves!
This was Scott’s one chance, if he wanted to survive. Reaching up with his hands before the EDEN soldiers could fire, Scott grabbed one of them by the weapon and hurled him over his shoulder. The effort to kill the witnesses ended as Oleg and Mendoza’s men turned on him. But Scott had no intention to fight. Diving forward, toward his clustered counterparts, Scott waited for the shockwave to come.
The train jostled as a loud squeal erupted—the application of brakes. The lights in the car’s interior shut off. What in the world?
Boom!
A split second later, the entire front of the car was rocked straight up.
It was impossible to know exactly what happened next. Everyone in the train—even those waiting for it—screamed. There were flashes of light, followed by rapid shifts in direction and momentum. Then, as suddenly as the explosion as occurred, there came the crash.
Sparks and darkness. That was all that Scott could see as the train rolled over then surged ahead, its occupants careening off walls and each other with deafening violence. Tree trunks were felt snapping. The train’s hull groaned. The click-clack of the rail was replaced by screams of twisting metal. It lasted for what felt like twenty seconds.
Then, everything stopped. The train ground to a halt, its forward momentum ceasing as if it’d struck a solid object. The crash was over.
Even knowing what to expect, even having the chance to rationalize that he was about to be in a train crash, Scott still found himself in disbelief after it happened. Lying flat against the “floor” of the sideways-turned car, Scott stared up at the darkness. He could hear the rain now. There were no engines, no howling of winds to muffle it. There was just…peace.
Was he dead?
“Get up! Get up!” The words were Becan’s, shouted loudly from somewhere behind him.
Scott strained to roll over and push himself up. He had no idea if the Irishman’s words were intended for him or someone else, but he complied with them just the same. He hurt everywhere, but nothing felt broken. His armor had held true. Reaching up to engage his TCV, he was relieved when he found it still functional. As the world took on an ethereal hue, he surveyed the wreckage of the train.
Bodies were everywhere. And most of them were moving. Staggering briefly as he stumbled over some crates—the lone source of debris in the car—Scott sought out his teammates. He could see Becan helping someone up. A slayer. Behind them, Feliks was also digging someone out of a pile of boxes. Was it his brother? Still somewhat disoriented, Scott turned around to search for Mendoza and his men.
The EDEN forces inside the train had been hit hard, both by the explosion and the crash. Even through the smoke, he could see several EDEN soldiers sprawled out with their limbs twisted unnaturally and unmoving. There had been deaths.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
Whirling around at the sound of the weapons fire, Scott watched as Natalie opened fire on an EDEN soldier on her side. The Caracal captain’s helmet had been thrown off, and she was bleeding from the head, somewhere—but she, like Becan, Feliks, and at least some of the slayers, was alive.
In her hands was one of the EDEN soldiers’ rifles. The advanced weapon’s barrel exploded with orange as the hapless EDEN operative was gunned down. Slinking down after the deed had been done, she reached past the operative to grab someone’s hand. With a yank, she pulled him to his feet from the rubble.
Mark. He was alive.
“Get up! Come on, let’s go!” Those were Natalie’s words to Mark as she steadied him on his feet. “Grab a weapon!”
Her words sparking his own sudden awareness, Scott looked around for one of the rifles EDEN had been using. The search didn’t take long. The weapons were everywhere, having been thrust from the hands of their masters in the crash. Scrambling over crates and bodies toward the nearest one, Scott grabbed hold of it and raised it, ready to fire.
From behind him, Becan’s voice emerged. “Remmy!” When Scott turned, the Irishman was already upon him, grabbing him by the arm to pull him along. “Let’s get ou’ ’o here!”
Out of there—yes. His disorientation now gone, Scott followed the rest of the ground op team as they moved as quickly as they could for the back of the car, where a door had been knocked off its hinges. Outside, the roar of V2 engines emerged through the downpour.
At the front of the car, groggy and hurting, Oleg reached up to grab hold of something to pull himself to his feet. His hand finding a nonfunctional lever, the disgraced eidolon strained as he dragged himself up. Pulling off his cracked helmet, he winced in pain as he searched through the smoke. Far ahead of him, on the other side of the car, men in Nightmen armor were sliding out of the door. As his search brought him to his immediate vicinity, he locked eyes with Hector Mendoza. The security chief’s head was twisted backward, his pupils gazing back lifelessly. Grinding his teeth, Oleg searched through the mass of dead and injured for a chaos rifle.
Scott was the last one to crawl out of the wrecked train car. By the look of it, every member of the ground op team had survived the crash. Whether the benefit of having better armor or being more prepared, Scott was thankful. Pulling himself through the horizontal door opening, Scott searched for the V2 in the rain. He didn’t have to look far. The transport had landed just off to the side of the wrecked train car with its rear bay door open. The whole of the transport’s crew was already heading toward them to assist.
The train had derailed in the middle of a forested area, its tracks running through the only place uncovered by foliage. There was no traction beneath Scott’s feet, only what felt like two inches of mud, made almost a pure liquid by the storm.
Bullets ricocheted around the train car’s back door—Scott dove out of the way, narrowly avoiding them. The EDEN soldiers were reorienting. The time to leave was now.
Approaching Scott from where their V2 had landed, Javon shouted through the storm, “You all right, man?”
“Yeah. We’ve got to move quick!” Scott’s leg throbbed. Whatever amount he’d healed from his injury in Cairo, the wreck had aggravated it tenfold. As Javon helped Scott move along, he scanned the area for Mark. His brother was several meters away, being helped along by Natalie. As the wounded were moved toward the transport, those who’d been on the V2—Jayden, Esther, Lilan, Tom, and Pyotr—were now far from it, either assisting limping operatives or holding down suppressive fire. Even Ju`bajai was with them, her frail hands reaching out to help Natalie with Mark.
“Hey,” Scott asked Javon, “how did you guys shut off the train lights and hit the brakes?” A split second before the explosion, both things had taken place.
Looking at him, Javon said, “We thought that was you!”
Scott’s helmet mic crackled as Jakob’s frantic yelling emerged. “Incoming! Incoming!”
The pilot barely got the second word out. The ground team spun their heads to the V2 just in time to see the impact. Emerging through the rain and wailing like a banshee was a trident missile. It struck the transport in the center of the hull, exploding with a shockwave that sent every member of the ground op team flying backwards through the air and landing in the mud.
High above Scott’s head, the unmistakable sound of a Superwolf’s engines shrieked pas
t.
Rain tattered Natalie’s face as she lay face-up on the newly-christened battlefield, the pain of the shockwave pulsating through her body. Lifting her head, she wiped her eyes and searched for Mark. The cadet and Ju`bajai were sprawled out several meters away, both straining to push up to their feet. Rolling over and pushing herself up, Natalie nearly lost her footing on the slick mud as she scrambled in their direction.
“What in the hell was that?”
The words came from Esther, who was sprawled out with Jayden and several others further behind Natalie. The Caracal captain ignored them. Coming up to Mark from behind, she reached down and yanked him to his feet. The muddied, shell-shocked cadet stared back at her in horror.
Footsteps emerged behind her before she could address Mark. Lilan. Limping toward Ju`bajai, the colonel pulled the mud-caked Ithini up to her feet with his one good arm.
“EDEN!” Natalie sputtered, fighting to look through the rain as it pounded her.
Lilan nodded. “I know! Start roundin’ everyone up. We’re gonna have to make a move!”
“Make a move? Where?”
A massive light emerged in the sky alongside the track. Natalie and everyone around her turned their heads to face it. Accompanied by the unmistakable sound of V2 landing thrusters, the spotlight sunk closer to the ground.
Scott had just gotten back to his feet from the explosion when the new V2 appeared. There wasn’t a doubt in Scott’s mind as to who was on board.
Vector.
“We’ve got to go!” He yelled at Javon before making a realization. Jakob. The pilot was still in their smoldering V2. “No, wait! Reinhardt.”
Glancing in the direction of the V2, Javon looked back at Scott and patted him on the shoulder. “I got him! Get everyone out of here!”
“I’m going with you.”
“Not with that limp, you ain’t! Go ’head, man, I got this!” Javon allotted no time for argument. Bolting in the direction of their wrecked V2, he disappeared behind the veil of rain.
Something whizzed past Scott’s head. Hunkering down and spinning, he shot a look toward the train, where several of the EDEN soldiers from the ambush were climbing out, weapons firing. With Ju`bajai’s sweeping connection severed, Scott queued up his helmet comm and barked out to the team, “Everyone, go, go, go! Help who you can and move—we’ll rendezvous somewhere along the way!” Acknowledgments came, though it was hard to tell who was who. The burning fire, the rain, the weapons…it all blended together. The only thing Scott knew was that between those EDEN operatives and that landing V2 transport, their chance to escape was slimming by the nanosecond.