Chapter 1 #3
Archer went next, face ashen, skin slack, his hand visibly shaking as he grabbed the ladder, placed his feet on the rungs.
He drew himself up, pure defiance reflected in his stance.
“Stop looking at me with those bug eyes as if I’m going to drop dead, Monroe.
And for the record, I’ve dragged my ass through miles of hostile territory hurt far worse than this, so… ”
“Noted, sir.” Neve slipped his rifle off his shoulders. “I’ll hold on to it for the trip down.”
He merely grumbled a reply, vanishing below the surface, Wynn gripping that handle from above as she inched down with him. Blood smeared the beam where he’d been braced, more puddling in the dirt.
Neve checked the adjoining corridors, listening for a hint of movement before stepping onto the ladder.
Soft clangs echoed from below, the occasional creak drifting up through the hole.
She started down, the air thick with the scent of wet stone and rust. Noises bounced off the walls, each distant footfall sounding as if it was on top of them.
They descended through the mine, their IR beams brightening a circle of the adjoining floors.
A few rats scurried across the tunnels, their eyes shining red in the low light.
Above, a faint metallic click cut through the quiet, a constant reminder they weren’t alone.
That it was only a matter of time before the other men found them.
Neve reached the third sub-level, watching the darkness above her as if it might spit men, her carbine sweeping the space, when two of the rungs gave way.
She swung to one side, scrambling for a hold when she caught herself on a crossbeam, the creosote-stained wood biting into her palm.
The rungs hit the bottom with a resounding thud, the sound punching through the darkness like a fist.
She took a few breaths, then repositioned herself on the ladder, sliding the last dozen feet using only the outside. Weathered symbols had been painted onto the supports, what looked like an exploding bomb pointing off to the right.
Scout took lead, clearing the corridor, keeping the pace measured but steady. Wynn had Archer’s arm slung across her shoulders, bracing his weight as they followed the tunnel, stopping when Scout held up one fist — killed her flashlight as she removed her goggles.
Neve followed suit as she shouldered in beside her, taking in the scene in a single glance — lantern bathing the room in warm yellow light as one of the mercs messed with the locker, what looked like several bars of sweating dynamite lined up in a row.
She made a few hand signals, traded her gun for one of her tactical knives, then moved out, staying low, planting each step softly on the dirt.
The guy kept working, handling more of the compromised sticks, acting as if any slight disturbance wouldn’t set the damn things off. The reason she’d opted for a blade. That a stray bullet could ignite the nitroglycerin beading on the sides.
She closed the distance, playing through how she’d react if he turned before she got within striking distance, when he paused, moved — took three steps toward her in the space of a heartbeat.
She dodged his first strike, catching the next in the cross of her arms, landing a hard kick to his groin followed by a solid roundhouse to his jaw.
He stumbled back, then returned, one hand fisted around her throat before he bodily lifted her off the ground, tossed her across the room.
Dirt and stones bit into her shoulder as she hit the ground, rolled with the force.
Pain sparked through her torso, pounding up and into her head as she rose onto her feet, the room washing in and out of focus, her breath escaping on a sharp hiss.
Scout stepped forward, but Neve shook her head, moving between the soldier and her crew.
The creep drew his weapon, glanced at the surrounding structure, then holstered it. “Wouldn’t want to bring this place down before it’s time.” He grinned as he cracked his knuckles. “This should be fun.”
He attacked, closing the distance far too fast, hitting with the force of a hammer. She deflected what she could, taking a brutal strike to the ribs in order to get close, stab him in the shoulder. Blood welled up from the puncture wound, staining his shirt, as he glared at her.
She lunged again, blade glinting off the rust-covered oil lantern he’d positioned beside the locker — an epic catastrophe waiting to unfold. If they knocked it over, hit the TNT…
The asshole didn’t seem to care about any negative outcomes, dodging her strike, then grabbing her by the arm and throwing her over his shoulder.
She landed hard, bouncing once, stopping way too close to the dynamite.
She looked at the sticks, at the glistening fluid beading along the outside, then back at him.
The guy laughed. “You don’t have the balls. Besides, chances are, we’ll all go up.”
She scrambled to her feet, grabbed a stick, praying it didn’t explode in her hand, then tossed it at the bastard.
He inhaled, juggling it as it landed on his chest, smears of fluid staining his vest before he stopped moving, his breath a harsh rasp in the thick air.
He snorted, looked up before his head snapped back, his body folding onto the ground in a crumpled heap, the dynamite lying loosely across one palm.
Blood pooled beneath his head, her blade centered between his eyes.
Neve leaned against the locker, pain burning white-hot beneath her skin. She let her head fall against the corrugated metal wall, everything still shifting left and right.
Wynn snapped her fingers in front of her, tsking as she shone a light in her eyes. “Are you insane?”
Neve grunted, batting away Wynn’s hands when she reached for the straps on Neve’s vest. “Did you see how strong he was?” She closed her eyes, shoved down the pain. “No way I was winning that fight.”
“Which is why you should have just shot the bastard from the start. You don’t miss.”
“I wasn’t worried I’d miss. I was worried he’d fall on the dynamite. Set it off. Or knock over the oil lamp and kill us all.” She blew out a shallow breath, her ribs protesting every movement. “I couldn’t chance it.”
“But tossing one at him was a better option?”
“Seemed like it at the time.” She pushed off, ignoring the way Wynn huffed, muttering about how Neve was worse than Archer, then crouched beside the explosives.
“Damn, he already rigged the stash to blow. Probably the reason they were herding us deeper into the mine.” She rose, ushered Wynn toward the ladder, the numbers already counting down.
“Climb. Now. Because in three minutes, this entire cave will be nothing but dust.”