Chapter 7 #2
He reached the halfway point, took a steadying breath, then unclipped his rigging before grabbing the spare Wynn had left.
The cord slipped through his numb fingers, and he had to juggle the damn thing a few times in order to keep it from falling through the cracks.
The gear finally clicked into place, the carabiner a comforting presence on his belt as he adjusted the woman, then started moving, the webbing dragging behind him, that cable helping him balance both their weight.
More shots rang out behind him, the urgency in Neve’s quick bursts spurring him on. He chanced a glance back, cursed when she was forced to change magazines again, ducking behind the side of the tunnel as bullets chewed through the rock next to her shoulder, missing her by maybe an inch.
All the more reason to pick up the pace, get to the other side.
He moved faster, each step twice what it had been as a strong gust whistled through the bridge’s bones, the cable singing in response. He paused, waited for it to pass when the cable sagged, swinging a few times before the anchor on Neve’s side snapped, dropped the braided metal into the chasm.
The sudden loss yanked him sideways, another gust adding to the momentum as his gravity shifted, boots slipping off the wet metal, the woman’s added weight dragging him down.
He twisted, managing to snag one hand around the farthest beam as he dropped off the side, air clawing at his feet, that wind blasting through his wet clothes.
Pain shot through his ribs and into his chest as he hit the surface, the impact stealing his next breath.
His lower body swung beneath the bridge, the tether holding tight at his waist. He panted through the pressure, the woman’s arm half-choking him as he tried to swing his legs, get one on top of the beam.
“Coulter!”
Neve’s voice cut through the wind and the constant creak of the bridge, another aggressive amount of gunfire barking out by the tunnel before her footsteps sounded on the gravel.
He looked over at her, determined to tell her to get back, that it wasn’t safe, when she raced toward the bridge, rifle secured across her back, arms pumping.
She hit the beams and didn’t slow, sprinting across the slick metal stringer like a damn logger running along a floating log.
No tether. No safety net. Just her arms darting from side to side, her boots pounding across the surface.
She reached the halfway point, then dove at him, sliding across the beam like it was home plate, water spraying out from beneath her, nothing stopping her from simply slipping off the side.
She stopped next to the webbing, her hands palmed along the metal, her thighs hugging the beam. Her hair whipped against his shoulder as she leaned over, burrowed her hand under the woman and around the handle on his vest.
His muscles cramped, his ribcage burning as if it might break apart at any moment, the added weight refusing to move.
Neve grunted, looking down before meeting his gaze. “Hold on.”
“Neve don’t…”
She moved.
Swung her body off the side, let gravity do the work as she slipped — hung over the ravine, legs dangling in the air, just her hand on that handle keeping her from falling into the river.
The added counterweight pulled his chest up and over the beam, dropping Neve another foot as he wrapped one leg around the stringer, shifted the woman forward until she was centered over the structure.
Neve’s fingers slipped from the sudden shift, and she slid out, her arm brushing along his shoulder. He lunged, caught her wrist in his hand, the force slamming him into the beam.
Dots erupted behind his eyes, his shoulder grinding in the joint, but he held on as she slapped her other hand against his forearm — locked her fingers around him.
The stringer shook, the constant motion and extra weight twisting it slightly as a massive groan echoed around them.
The rain kicked up, the downpour soaking his skin until he wasn’t sure if either of them could hold on.
Neve motioned to the beam in front of him, and he clenched his jaw, started swinging her — back and forth, side to side until he had enough momentum that she released his forearm — grabbed the stringer.
Her arms slipped, dropped her half a foot, but she clawed her way back, got one leg wrapped around the beam.
Rivulets poured off her face, beading the surface as she slowly dragged her body onto the top, chest heaving, her breath wheezing along with his. She didn’t waste time resting, electing to scoot backward until she reached the other end, Zadie and Wynn dragging her off the far side.
Coulter waited, the wind still howling, the beam shaking beneath him as he copied her approach — all but belly crawling the remaining twenty feet.
Shots cracked off the steel next to him, the sparks lighting up the night before Scout returned fire, the muzzle glowing in the swirling fog.
He moved faster, the pressure crushing his ribs, his lungs barely getting any air.
Someone shouted behind him, accompanied by the answering thut of Neve’s rifle.
Zadie’s radio crackled in the background, and she tilted her head, muttering to herself before she looked up. “RCMP’s Air Services unit inbound with SAR. We’ve got maybe three minutes.”
Coulter cursed, crawled that last couple feet, every muscle and bone screaming, the woman still slung over his shoulders.
Wynn met him at the edge then she and Zadie lifted the woman off his shoulders and carried her behind a stand of trees several feet off.
He rolled, palmed his Sig, sweeping the gorge, half-expecting one of the enhanced bastards to be racing across the beam, just like Neve had done.
Ramsey stood just inside the tunnel’s exit, partially hidden behind the collapsed timbers, two of his men staggering to their feet in front, blood blooming across their jackets. He looked Coulter in the eye, that dead gaze coldly assessing everything. He raised his hand, twirled his finger.
The men bolted back into the tunnel, vanishing into the dark as Ramsey remained a moment longer, staring at Coulter like he had at Blackridge before he turned, disappeared.
Coulter closed his eyes, breathed through the pain, before stumbling to his feet, hooking Neve’s arm when she stopped next to him. “You’re nuts.”
“Says the guy who’s operating on adrenaline and rage.”
“What you did…”
“You can voice your opinion, later. We’ve got two minutes to clear out before the cops put us in the center of a damn spotlight.”
“Oh, we’ll definitely be having a chat.”
He straightened, had Wynn help him heave the woman back on his shoulders before heading down the trail. Thick bramble clawed at their legs, the path a mix of over-sized salal and weeping sword fern.
The distant beat of rotors sounded above the rain, a white light punching through the darkness, sweeping across the ground, most of the beam reflected by the fog.
They darted into the underbrush, crouching amidst the evergreens as the chopper flew over, the rotors so loud he felt the rhythm inside his chest. They waited, the strum fading as it headed for the ridge line, that light quickly dimming.
Scout stood, cleared both directions, then waved them on, picking the clearest line through the brush. Mud splashed up Coulter’s pants, his footfalls deadened by the spongy carpet of needles as they wove down the hillside, Neve still guarding their six.
They reached another service main, deep ruts carved into the mud, what looked like a couple of cigarette butts flattened against a rock. Zadie held up her fist, and they took cover under a thick canopy of redwoods and alder.
She checked the comms, leaned against a six-foot wide trunk. “Shepherd just turned onto the forest main. He should be here in ten.”
Wynn helped Coulter ease the woman onto an emergency blanket, then ran through her vitals. “She’s breathing, but she’s got significant head trauma. She needs a hospital. Stat.”
Coulter nodded. “Shepherd and I can drop her off. Claim we found her outside. Slip away in the resulting chaos.” He gestured to Zadie. “Assuming you can loop their video feed until we’re clear.”
“You ask that like you don’t already know the answer.”
He chuckled. “My mistake.”
He leaned against another tree, watching Neve pace, every bruise he’d thought had healed from Ramsey’s facility burning back to life. He allowed himself a few more breaths, then stood, joining Neve on the edge of the road.
She looked up at him, her blue gaze raking the length of him. “Sit. I can handle sentry duty until Shepherd arrives.”
“Never said you couldn’t. But it’s always nice to have someone guarding your back.”
She snorted. “You always were shit at taking orders.”
“Only the ones that keep me off the playing field.” He turned, put his back against hers as they stood in the rain, the fog thinning a bit. “We’re still gonna have that chat.”
Neve pressed harder against him. “Is that before or after Darwin rips you a new one for making him patch you up again?”
“I’m not the only one he’ll be treating.”
She sighed, looking at him over her shoulder. “Then, I’ll make an extra pot of coffee so you don’t pass out before we’re done… Talking.”
“Oh, sweetheart. Trust me. Once I commit, there’s no stopping until the mission’s finished.
And after watching you risk your ass for the past few hours, I’ve decided you’re my next op.
” He turned, brushed some wet hair out of her eyes.
“So, you’d best decide how you want our next encounter to end, because I know what I want, and failure’s not an option. ”