Chapter 15 #2
"He's getting readings," Mercer reports. "Changing direction slightly. He knows there's something out here generating heat signatures."
Sarah's hand moves to her sidearm, resting on the grip. "How far is he from Echo Base's outer perimeter?"
Tommy runs calculations on his screen. "If he maintains his current trajectory, he'll be within detection range of our ventilation exhaust soon. Close enough to know something's here even if he can't pinpoint the exact location."
"He's not getting that close," Mercer says. The sound of rustling comes through the radio as he adjusts his position. "I'm moving to higher ground. Give me a moment for a clean shot."
"Mercer, you are cleared hot," Kane says. "Take the shot when you've got it."
Silence on the radio. The seconds stretch impossibly long. I hold my breath, my fingernails digging into my palms.
"Wind's steady from the northeast," Mercer mutters, more to himself than to us. "Long range. Elevation advantage is good. Target's moving through sparse cover now."
Then Mercer's voice, barely above a whisper. "Target acquired. Steady. Steady."
The crack of the rifle comes through the radio a split second before Tommy's screens show the hostile's thermal signature drop and go still.
"Target down," Mercer reports. "Hostile eliminated. Threat neutralized."
The relief that washes through the operations center is almost physical. Sarah's shoulders drop. Tommy exhales sharply. Khalid settles back into his chair, and Odin lies down with a huff.
"Good work, Mercer," Kane says. "Police that area, retrieve any tracking equipment, and destroy it. Then rejoin the team. We're moving out."
That hostile came too close to discovering Echo Base's general location. Too close to finding proof that something was out here in the wilderness. The Committee would have sent more teams, would have saturated the area with searchers.
Lucas would never have been safe.
"Team's preparing to extract," Sarah reports, eyes on the tactical display. "They're policing the area for intelligence, then heading back."
The blue markers begin moving, but the relief I felt moments ago is already fading. Something feels wrong. The victory feels too clean, too simple.
Then Stryker's voice comes through the radio, strained with controlled tension. "Tommy, we have a problem. Just found something on Kessler's body."
"What kind of problem?" Tommy asks, already pulling up additional monitoring systems.
"Dead man's switch. Biometric trigger tied to his vitals. If his heart rate drops below a certain threshold and stays there, it activates a beacon."
Sarah's face goes pale. "How long has he been dead?"
"Long enough that we're about to find out what happens when that beacon goes active."
Tommy works his systems frantically. "I'm scanning for new signals. If it activates, I'll pick it up immediately."
The operations center goes silent. We watch the screens, watch the blue markers representing our team, watch for any indication that the dead man's switch has triggered.
Tommy's monitors light up with alerts. "Beacon is active. I'm reading the signal. It's broadcasting their exact position."
"Can you jam it?" Kane demands.
"Negative. It's using a frequency hopping protocol. I'd need physical access to disable it, and by the time you reach it, the damage is done."
Sarah moves to look over Tommy's shoulder, studying the data streaming across the screens. "How long before Committee assets respond?"
"Analyzing Committee communication patterns now." Tommy pulls up encrypted channels. "I'm picking up activity. Multiple teams acknowledging the beacon. They're converging on your position."
On the tactical display, new red markers begin appearing. More than I can count. Moving fast from multiple directions toward the blue markers representing our team.
"How many?" Kane asks.
"Multiple teams confirmed. They had assets staged throughout the region." The grim certainty in Tommy's tone makes my stomach clench. "They're going to be on top of you soon."
"Kane, abort," Sarah says immediately. "Get out of there."
"If we run straight back to base, we lead them right to you. To Rachel and Lucas." Kane's voice is steady despite the situation. "We're going dark. Drawing them away from your position. Once we shake them, we'll circle back through alternate routes."
"Kane—" Sarah starts.
"That's an order. Hold the facility. Protect the Donovans. We'll handle this."
I'm on my feet before I realize I'm moving. "Stryker, you're wounded."
Static crackles. Then Stryker's voice comes through, rough but steady. "Just a graze, Rachel. Nothing Willa can't patch up when we get back."
"You're lying." I can hear it in his voice, the carefully controlled pain underneath.
"I'm operational," he says, which isn't the same as being fine. "Stay safe. Keep Lucas close. I'll see you when this is done."
"Stryker—"
But the radio has already gone silent.
On Tommy's screen, the blue markers change direction. Instead of heading toward Echo Base, they move away, deliberately leading the converging red markers in the opposite direction. Drawing the Committee forces away from us. Away from Lucas. Away from any chance of discovering Echo Base's location.
Something twists in my chest as I watch those blue dots move farther from safety.
They're choosing this. Choosing to run wounded through the wilderness with hostile teams closing in from every direction.
Choosing to bleed and fight and maybe die out there in the dark rather than risk leading the Committee back to my son.
Colton is out there somewhere in that Montana forest, hurt and hunted, and he's running away from the only help that could save him.
Tommy works his keyboards, tracking both our team and the Committee assets pursuing them. "They're splitting up. Kane's taking point, drawing the main pursuit. Dylan and Stryker are flanking, trying to divide the Committee's attention. Mercer's providing mobile overwatch."
"Dylan's hit too," Sarah says quietly, studying the movement patterns. "His pace is slower than it should be."
"How bad?" I ask.
"Can't tell from here. But he's mobile, which means it's not immediately life-threatening."
I sink back into my chair.
Time seems to slow to a crawl. Tommy provides updates as our team leads the Committee forces through the Montana wilderness. The red markers follow relentlessly.
"They're professional," Tommy mutters. "Not giving up."
Sarah paces behind his chair. "How long can they keep this up?"
"As long as they have to," Khalid says quietly. "That's what operators do."
I sink deeper into my chair. Somewhere down the corridor, Lucas is safe with Willa in the medical bay, away from the radio chatter and the violence bleeding through the speakers. At least I got that right.
Tommy continues tracking the pursuit across his screens, but then his fingers freeze over his keyboard. When he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.
"They're slowing down. Committee's closing the gap."
Colton is wounded. Dylan is wounded. And they're out there running from Committee reinforcements drawn to Kessler's beacon, trying to evade teams converging on the area.
On Tommy's screen, the blue markers move across the terrain.
The red markers close in from multiple directions, a tightening noose of hostile contacts.
The distance between them shrinks with each refresh of the display.
Sarah's hand finds the back of Tommy's chair again, knuckles going white.
Khalid shifts forward in his seat. Even Odin seems to sense the tension, a low whine building in his throat.
I watch the gap between them narrow—closer, closer still—and there's nothing I can do to stop it.