Chapter 1
“How can you be sure they’re here?” Mikey yells, firing his gun once more before ducking back into the safety of their room.
Riley leans around the corner, reloading his rifle and firing, this time hitting one of the men at the other end of the hall.
Small chunks of concrete rain down on their heads from a grenade explosion somewhere above them.
They look at each other, a silent understanding the other team must be having one hell of a time clearing the upper floor.
“I’m not, but I’m not leaving without looking,” Riley yells back.
This fight has been going on for too long. They never imagined these men would be more skilled than the ones at the last compound.
Riley glances around the narrow hall, watching as each member of his team leaves their cover to fire at their enemy.
A loud groan rumbles from his chapped lips, knowing he doesn’t have time for a firefight.
He needs to make it to the cells before his team blows the building, or worse, Dmitri kills all the prisoners.
“How long until impact?” he yells to no one in particular, firing down the hall again. He hits his target, the man falling to the floor, unmoving.
“17 minutes, 54 seconds, sir.” another man yells. “If you’re going to do this you need to go now!” he adds.
Riley leaves his cover, firing two more shots with another man hit, his blood spraying the crumbling concrete wall behind where he falls. Only three left. He knows he’s clear to take one or two of his men to clear the cells while the rest of his team handles the last of the people engaging them.
“Mikey, you’re with me,” he states, clapping a hand on his shoulder.
“Cover us,” he yells to the last of his team firing on the enemy, giving them the cover they need to slip into the stairwell. Once clear, they start down the stairs, trying to get to the third floor before time runs out.
As soon as their boots hit the landing, Riley slows, hoping the building holds out long enough to do what he came to do.
Only sixteen minutes left before everything turns to rubble.
He cracks open the door leading into a narrow hallway and peers in.
Only seeing two guards, he assumes everyone else has left their post to go help in the fight raging above them.
“Two guards; I’ll take the one on the right, you take the left,” he says, watching Mikey nod in agreement. Riley takes a deep breath and quietly counts to three.
Their guns fire simultaneously and the guards hit the ground with a sickening thump.
Riley waits, counting the seconds in his head.
When he gets to sixty and no reinforcements show up, he motions for Mikey to follow close behind.
They maneuver into the hallway, broken fluorescent lights flicker while the smell of blood and urine overwhelms their senses.
An explosion rocks the building, reminding him just how little time they have.
“Any idea what cell we’re looking for?” Mikey asks, looking at the rows of doors on either side of the hall.
“No… Just start opening. If anyone’s alive, tell them to run.”
Riley rushes to one side and pulls the first cell open.
The heavy metal groans as he pulls the weight of it back, the stench of death hitting him before he has it half open.
Peering inside, he sees a man, or what used to be a man, laying on the floor.
A dark-brown stain of old blood coats the floor around where he lays.
The next three cells are the same. Lifeless bodies of people who died undeserved, gruesome deaths. As he approaches cell number five, he hears the muffled whimpers of someone still clinging to life.
He pulls the door open with so much force he feels it in his bones.
With his gun ready, he steps into the room, his flashlight illuminating the faces of a man and woman huddled together in the corner, covered in what he hopes is just mud.
He screams at them to go, to get as fast as they can as they rush past him.
He tries to shake off the disappointment of not finding the one they are here for, telling himself these people are still prisoners who deserve to be saved just as much.
Riley backs out of the room, storming to the next cell, ready to get this mission over with.
Doors six and seven come up empty, he is about to give up, knowing they only have about 10 minutes now, when he hears screaming.
“Help! I’m still in here,” the stranger yells. “Please, let me out!”
The man’s screams echo through the empty hall. The only other sound is Mikey opening more cell doors. The gunfire grows quiet, causing Riley’s stomach to turn into knots.
“Finish that cell and find out what the fuck is going on!” Riley yells, opening the cell.
He’s met by a rail thin man covered in fresh cuts and deep purple bruises, but seemingly okay.
Riley shouts at him to get out, warning him of the incoming missile.
The man wastes no time running toward freedom.
“Wait! Are there any more people here?” he asks. The desperation in his voice rings clear.
Owing Riley his life, the man tells him there is one left, the door at the end, before he turns and runs.
“Six minutes, sir,” Mikey says. “They have more firepower than we knew about. Delta Team had to fall back. The rest of our forces are trying to keep a path clear for us, but we need to move.”
Riley sprints to the last cell, knowing he’s out of time, and rips the door open.
He only has seconds to take everything in.
A blanket as a makeshift bed, the floor stained with a mix of fresh and old blood, the overwhelming stench of urine, and in the corner next to the door, a small bucket full of what he knows all too well are torture tools.
He scans the rest of the room, and there, chained to the floor, is the woman they came for.