by Stone, Kyla
The footsteps drew closer.
It was a crappy hiding spot. The moon was so bright, it was like a spotlight blazing down on them, everything limned in a ghostly glow.
There was nowhere to go. Fleeing would only draw more attention.
Turn around, turn around, Liam chanted inside his head.
The footsteps didn’t turn around.
A guard dressed in BDUs rounded the corner of the row of trailers ten yards to their right. Young, Caucasian, baby-faced. The M16 in his hands carried high and in the ready position, the muzzle aimed right at them.
The kid caught sight of them and froze. His eyes went wide as he took in the scene—Liam armed to the teeth, a woman with an infant, her husband huddled protectively beside her, also armed.
Liam’s finger rested on the trigger. The silencer wasn’t completely silent. Someone might hear it. Worse, if the kid got a shot off, every thug in the camp would come running.
Still, he was prepared to fire at the smallest movement, the faintest finger twitch. If the guy narrowed his eyes, he was dead. If he opened his mouth to shout a warning, he was dead.
Liam would not allow harm to come to his nephew or to Jessa’s parents. He would die before he let that happen.
The hostile stared at them, startled and unsure. He didn’t lower the weapon. He didn’t move a muscle.
Liam stared back, heart pounding.
Someone snored in the trailer next to them. L.J. made soft snuffing noises, coughing wetly.
The tension stretched taut as a rubber band about to snap.
“I heard something,” the hostile said. “You—you’re trying to escape.”
“Please,” Evelyn said. “We just want to leave. That’s all.”
“You’re not supposed to leave.”
“We won’t cause any trouble,” Travis said. “We don’t want to be here.”
“I can’t let you leave,” the guard repeated
“Our baby is sick,” Evelyn said. “He’s dying.”
It wasn’t until she said the words aloud that Liam realized it was true. Even more reason to get them the hell out of here—now.
His finger took all the tension out of the trigger.
The young man’s gaze darted to the baby, his eyes white orbs in the shadows of his face. Something shifted in his features—a hint of doubt, of remorse.
And then his shoulders tensed, the muzzle of his rifle lifting a fraction of an inch.
Liam fired. Two short taps. The rounds spat from the silencer and drilled the guard in the chest. As he staggered back, M16 flailing, a third round punctured his left orbital socket and slammed through his brain matter.
The hostile dropped to the damp ground, dead.
Evelyn gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth, Travis hugging his wife and grandson close.
For an endless, agonizing moment, no one moved, muscles tensed, ears straining, listening hard for a sign that the muffled gunshots had alerted anyone to their presence.
A few trailers over, someone snored loudly. A shuffling noise, then a grunt.
No alarms. No approaching footsteps.
He dared not take the time to hide the body. They had only minutes before the sentry shift change. Besides, the pooling blood glistening like oil in the moonlight would betray their deeds soon enough.
With growing dread, he hurried the Brooks on as quickly as he dared.
In less than a minute, they were almost to the fence.
Liam strode ahead of them and checked the last intersection. He inched past the nearest trailer, weapon leading, and swept left, then right.
The fence lay straight ahead of them. Beyond the open stretch of land, freedom.
Maybe they’d gotten lucky, after all. They might just escape this hellhole unscathed—
Fifty yards behind them, a shout of alarm sounded. A dozen shouts and yells echoed through the camp, followed by several pairs of boots thudding in their direction.
Someone had discovered the body of the guard.
Right on cue, little L.J. startled awake and let out a shrieking wail.
Evelyn tried frantically to shush him, to no avail. It was too late. The baby screamed at the top of his lungs. Ragged, heartbreaking cries.
Fear seized Liam’s chest with iron talons. So much for luck. It would take every ounce of his skill, wits, and courage to get Jessa’s parents out of here alive.
With no thought for his own safety, he whirled and pushed Travis. “Go!”
Travis seized his wife’s hand, and they sprinted for the fence.
Liam took up a defensive position behind a trailer and covered the Brooks, holstering the HK45 and lifting the M4 in one fluid motion. The trailer provided concealment but little cover. He couldn’t get pinned down here, or he was in serious trouble.
When they reached the fence, Evelyn knelt, graceful even with a fifteen-pound baby attached to her chest. She pulled the chain link apart while Travis scooted through on his hands and knees. He twisted around and held it open for her.
L.J.’s jagged cries grew louder. Didn’t matter how sick he was; in the stillness, they were loud as trumpet blasts, alerting every armed thug within a quarter-mile radius.
A flashlight beam pinned them in place.
“Hey! You there! Stop right now!” a deep voice shouted.
18
Liam
Day Eighty-Eight
Two guards ran toward them from the east. A hundred yards away, maybe less. Several more came at them from the west—hostiles about to flank them on both sides.
There was no time for hesitation or indecision. Every second meant life or death.
Blood rushed in Liam’s ears, his heart about to hammer out of his chest. He pushed down the rising panic and willed himself to focus.
His charges weren’t the ones who would die. Not today. Not this time.
Liam flipped his NVGs down, pulled the M4 to his cheek, and adjusted the selector to three-round bursts. With skill and precision, he aimed, exhaled, and fired.
The first man fell. Then a second and third. Several came running to take their place.
Four more hostiles appeared along the central path perpendicular to the fence. Muzzle flashes lit up the night. The rat-a-tat of automatic gunfire split the air.
Rounds zinged past Liam’s head. Punched into the trailer walls behind him with pings and thunks. A bullet struck the ground a foot from his boots, clods of dirt spraying his shins.
Without a moment’s hesitation, he surged from behind the trailer, seized a frag grenade from his chest rig, and tossed it. It sailed twenty yards toward the oncoming hostiles.
He leapt back behind the trailer for cover. The explosion lit up the night.
The ground shook beneath his boots, the flimsy trailer wall rattling against his back. Shrieks of agony splintered the air.
More screams. Trailer doors flung open as people stumbled from their beds and fled in terror.
Evelyn yelped. Out of the corner of his eye, Liam glimpsed her wriggling, caught half through the fence. L.J. let out wet, hiccupping cries as Travis squatted on the other side, yanking her arm and attempting to jerk her through. She was stuck fast.
A jagged end of chain link had hooked the shoulder strap of the baby carrier. With her arms and torso already through the hole, Evelyn couldn’t reach back and untangle it, and neither could Travis.
Fear pierced Liam. Arrowed straight through his heart. He didn’t need to think it through. It was not a choice.
He’d give his life a thousand times for Lincoln and Jessa’s child. As he would for Hannah, for Milo and Charlotte.
Time slowed. Action unfolded frame by frame. Liam moved not by thought but muscle memory, his years of training taking over.
Liam tossed another grenade, broke cover, and moved into the wide pathway, aiming and firing short bursts. A half-dozen hostiles were already down, ripped apart by the frags. They wouldn’t be getting up.
Dropping to the ground, he rolled, coming
to his knees in a crouch in front of Evelyn and his nephew. He was completely exposed. But incoming rounds would strike him, not them. That’s what mattered.
Shielding them with his body, he knelt, terror thrumming through his veins as he hurled a flashbang to disorient the hostiles.
He turned away, covering his eyes and opening his mouth.
The explosive bang slammed into his eardrums. The incredible brilliant light flashed bright against his eyelids.
He opened his eyes and braced the M4’s stock against his shoulder. His eye squinted through the optics, finger squeezing the trigger again and again. Boom! Boom! Boom!
Rounds struck the dirt, pinged the fence on either side of him. A bullet struck Liam’s chest, knocking him back, pain radiating like he’d been kicked by a horse.
The plate carrier protected him from penetration but not the punch of the round. It’d leave an ugly bruise. Bruises he could live with—
More rounds whizzed past his head. Just below his plate carrier, a fiery pain struck his lower left side.
Damn it! He registered dimly that he’d been hit. He couldn’t look to see how bad.
“We’re free!” Travis shouted. “I got her free!”
“Go!” Liam cried.
They were out of time. More hostiles were coming, running from several directions. A dozen of them. Two dozen. Too many of them.
In seconds, they’d overwhelm him.
Adrenaline surging, Liam hurled another flashbang to cover their retreat.
The hostiles fell back, momentarily blinded, disoriented and stunned. They stumbled around dizzily, like they were drunk, clutching at their ears and faces. One man screamed and fumbled at the flash burns on his thighs.
They’d come to in ten to fifteen seconds, though they wouldn’t be able to see or hear clearly for a while. Switching to full auto, Liam let loose a barrage of firepower.
Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself to his feet, the adrenaline momentarily masking the extent of his injury.
As he backed up, Liam mowed down any hostile in sight. His ears ringing, he turned and flung himself through the hole in the fence.
Like broken teeth, the jagged ends of the chain link scratched his cheek and neck, scraped his clothes, and nearly snagged on his pack.
With a savage growl, he ripped through.
He leapt to his feet and spun around, searching for enemy targets. He backed away, laying down cover fire on any stragglers.
Behind him, the Brooks fled into the night. They raced toward the woods thirty yards away, out in the open, exposed.
He had to make sure they were clear. Liam fired another short burst. He felt the bolt lock back and did a tactical reload. A few stray rounds fired after him—none too close.
Now was his chance to escape.
He turned and ran after the Brooks, stumbling, white-hot pain radiating from his ribs, an explosion of agony that stole his breath from his lungs.
He reached the woods just as the hostiles opened fire again. Dirt sprayed as bullets struck the ground yards to his left and right.
Liam pressed himself against the thick trunk of an oak tree and inhaled sharply, steadying his heart rate. He was alone. As instructed, Evelyn and Travis had gone on ahead of him.
He needed to stop their pursuers, give them time. Problem was, he was running out of time himself.
Slick wet blood leaked from the hole in his side. It drenched the front of his shirt and his vest. His legs were going weak and rubbery.
With a sharp breath, he put the pain in a box and forced himself to press on. Just a little longer. He needed his broken, battered body to endure until he knew they were safe.
He leaned out from the tree and swept the fence line with a barrage of firepower.
Two more hostiles went down. Then three more.
After a minute, return fire ceased.
More would come. He needed to retreat before they organized and flanked him.
Squatting, Liam grabbed his IFAK first aid kit from his chest rig and slapped a Celox blood-clotting pad on the wound and wrapped it with an Israeli trauma bandage. It would have to do.
His nephew wasn’t safe yet.
19
Liam
Day Eighty-Eight
Liam rose heavily. Gasping from pain mingled with weariness, he turned and disappeared into the trees.
He did another tactical reload as he ran, his hands slick with his own blood slipping on the metal as he slapped in the fresh magazine and jammed the spent one into a pouch on his chest rig.
Even wounded, even with his back injury, he was incredibly fit. He loped through the trees at a steady pace, his teeth gritted, praying the adrenaline would continue blocking the worst of the pain.
He was the only thing that stood between his brother’s family and certain death. He had to stay on his feet, no matter what.
The moon had disappeared behind a raft of thick clouds. The forest was dark and shadowed. Frost-tinged dead leaves crunched beneath his boots. The cool air smelled like damp earth and pine and sap.
Over it all, he inhaled the hot coppery scent of his own blood.
Every minute, he stopped to listen over his pounding heart.
He strained his ears for the telltale warning that he was being tracked. A rustle of leaves, a twig cracking. The soft crunch of boots on snow.
A random gunshot sounded, but it was distant. Gradually, the shouting faded.
Despite the pain, he forced himself to pick up the pace. If Poe was anything short of an idiot, he’d have a reaction force gearing up to search for them.
He sensed the net closing around them, the trap’s jaws snapping shut.
When he reached the farm where he’d stashed the truck, Evelyn and Travis were waiting for him outside the barn. Evelyn had fixed a bottle for L.J., who’d blessedly fallen back to sleep. Even his breathing was raspy and ragged.
“Let me drive,” Travis said when he caught sight of Liam, his eyes going wide in alarm. “Liam, you take the backseat. Evelyn, take care of him.”
“I’m fine,” Liam insisted.
“You’re hurt,” Evelyn said.
“I’m fi—”
“Liam Coleman, listen to me right now.” Evelyn drew herself to her full height and fisted her hands on her hips. “I might not have had the privilege of knowing you well, but I knew your brother. Lincoln was my son-in-law—don’t you forget that. I know you through him. He told me you’ve spent your entire life taking care of people and forget you need care yourself. You’ve been shot. Now let me help you!”
His shoulders sagged. He didn’t have any fight left in him. He couldn’t have argued with Evelyn even if he’d wanted to. She reminded him too much of Jessa.
He’d never been able to say no to Jessa, just like he couldn’t refuse Hannah.
The pain was fast sapping his stamina. The adrenaline dump had left him shaky and light-headed. He had little choice; a few seconds more and he’d be a puddle on the forest floor.
“Fine.” He tugged his keys from his pocket and tossed them to Travis. “I see where Jessa got her stubbornness.”
“One hundred percent of it.” Travis flicked on a bright LED flashlight and started for the barn.
Liam winced as he reached for a side pouch on his go-bag and withdrew a small flashlight with a red filter to aid night vision. He handed it to Travis. “Use this. It’ll draw less attention.”
He took a step and faltered. Waves of dizziness washed over him as his legs threatened to give out.
Without hesitation, Evelyn wrapped her arm around Liam’s bloody torso and propped him up. “Lean on me.”
She was slim, not as curvy as her daughter had been, but strong. With Evelyn’s help, they shuffled into the darkened barn.
The scent of hay and dust filled his nostrils. It was too dark to make out anything but heavy shadows and the dark shape of the truck directly ahead. He sensed hay bales and tractors.
Travis accidentally kicked over a metal bucke
t and froze. In the carrier, L.J. squirmed but didn’t awaken.
“We need to hurry,” Liam said. “They’ll be coming after us.”
Travis unlocked the truck and jumped into the driver’s seat. Liam clenched his jaw against a cry of agony as he clambered into the back seat, Evelyn helping as best she could.
He eased off his pack and set it on the floor beside him, keeping the M4 in his lap.
While Travis held the flashlight, Evelyn strapped the baby into the car seat Liam had scavenged and installed with Hannah’s help before he’d left.
L.J. gave several deep rattling coughs, but Evelyn soothed him, and he settled in his car seat.
Liam strained his ears for any sound of pursuit. Blackness wavered at the corners of his vision, his skin prickling with sour sweat.
He couldn’t allow his body to give out on him. Not until they were safe.
He’d planned to booby trap their escape route with grenades or drop a tree to block their pursuers’ vehicles, but his injury changed everything. There was no time. He was dizzy, nearly unconscious.
Evelyn sat sideways in the middle of the seat next to him, bracing herself awkwardly with one leg against the back of the passenger seat. She shone the flashlight on Liam’s wound, her eyes narrowing.
“That bad?”
“Let’s just hope you didn’t perforate your stomach or spleen, but you’ve lost a lot of blood. There’s an entry wound, but no exit. The bullet’s still inside you.”
She cleared her throat and pointed at his pack. “You have a first aid kit in there? We’re going to need it.”
“No time. The longer we wait, the more vehicles they’ll have on the roads to block us in. We have to go.”
“Liam, you need immediate medical care—”
Distant shouts echoed through the forest, followed by dogs barking.
Liam’s heart tightened like a fist. “Go!”
Travis sucked in an alarmed breath. “Should we just hide here until they leave? They’d have to search a hundred barns to find us.”