Chapter 3 Village Outskirts, South America #2
The blast hit like a hammer to Kawan’s chest. A quick exhale, followed by a short intake of breath, was about all he could manage, and it hurt like fucking hell. He blinked, doing his best to regain his bearings as bodies darted by, screaming in the wake of confusion and turmoil.
His gaze snapped toward the plume of smoke rising a few blocks down—just beyond the burning chapel.
The second-story balcony Lark had been perched on had buckled in a wave of dust and fractured clay.
“Lark,” his voice tore from his throat, raw and unfiltered. He raised his arm, wiping dirt and sweat from his brow.
“Shit,” Thor shouted over comms. “Command has been compromised.”
Kawan didn’t wait for an order. Or permission. He was already running. He wasn’t loosing… her.
“Hold!” Sloan yelled. “We’ve got fire from the west rooftop, red awning. We don’t have eyes on the back of that building. We can’t have you running in, playing hero, when we don’t know what’s—”
“Cover me, or don’t cover me,” Kawan snapped, low and hard, as he vaulted a row of market stalls.
The entire square erupted. It was pure chaos as people yelled and moved through the streets like the world had exploded.
Vendors had tossed their tables to take cover behind.
Crates of mangoes and potatoes flew through the air like shrapnel.
“But if it were one of you assholes, I’d be doing the same fucking thing. ”
“Watch left,” Moose called out. “One on the corner roof with a suppressed SMG.” Thank God for, Moose.
“I see him,” Sloan confirmed. “Taking aim.” A sharp crack rang out—one clean shot. “Target down.”
Kawan didn’t look back. His mission was clear.
Get to Lark. She was all that mattered to him in this moment.
He ducked under a fluttering tarp, pushed through a broken door, and slammed his shoulder into the frame of the crumbling building.
He paused for a moment… blinking… focusing…
taking a breath… before forging forward.
“Lark,” he shouted, barely able to hear his own voice over fire raging from the floor to the ceiling.
It roared like a wild lion claiming its territory.
She was in here, somewhere, and he wasn’t leaving without her.
Smoke choked the hallway. A wooden beam jutted through the stairwell like a splintered spear. He climbed over the rubble, coughing, eyes burning, skin stinging from the heat.
“Lark? Where the hell are you?” He turned, craned his neck, and listened.
A moan. “Over here.” Her voice barely audible over the rumbling blaze.
He panned the room until he found her half-buried in cracked tile and splintered rafters, groaning as she tried to sit up. Blood matted her hairline, and one arm was cut and bleeding.
His chest loosened for the first time since the building collapsed.
“Jesus, that hurts,” she mumbled.
“Hey, I’ve got you.” Kawan dropped to his knees and brushed debris from her torso, patting down her extremities, looking for broken bones, dislocations, wounds…
“You’re not supposed to be here,” she slurred, seemingly blinking against the sparks and black smoke bellowing through the room.
“Yeah, well, we both know I like breaking rules. You good to move?”
“I’ve been through worse.” She grimaced, bracing herself as he slipped an arm around her waist. “Fuck,” she said. “Might have cracked a rib. Ankle’s tender.”
“Lean on me, but we’ve got to go. The whole damn board’s gone hot.” He hauled her up, supporting most of her weight.
“We need to find Bretton, Bradford, Torin—”
“Gone. You’re the priority now.”
“Specs—”
“Chatter in my ear is that Specs, Jupiter, and Lief are on their way. Jupiter called in a helicopter ride out. Thor, Moose, and Sloan are securing a path to the checkpoint. Right now, it’s you and me, Strattan.”
Gunfire cracked overhead. A chunk of adobe exploded behind them.
“Move!” Thor’s voice barked over the radio. “Rendezvous at chapel parking lot.”
“What’s my best route?” Kawan ducked his head and half-dragged, half-carried Lark out the back of the building, into the narrow alley.
“East road’s the cleanest,” Moose said.
They bolted—Kawan shielding her as they zig-zagged between buildings. The air stank of cordite and sunbaked stone. Distant screams echoed behind them. Rounds punched into walls. Somewhere, a child cried.
As they neared the chapel, three men in matte black tactical gear turned the corner, rifles raised.
“Down!” Kawan shouted and shoved Lark hard to the ground.
He pivoted, raised his weapon, and fired. One, two—center mass. The third ducked behind a barrel and returned fire.
Kawan turned to shield Lark and—
Pain tore through his left leg.
“Fuck—”
He dropped to one knee, teeth clenched, blood already soaking his pant leg.
“Kawan’s hit.” Lark dragged him toward the side of the building only one block from the burning chapel, her injured arm trailing.
“Got em’ in my sights,” Moose said. “Stay where you are.”
More gunfire. More shouts.
“We need to move,” he gritted. “I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Not the first time.” He groaned as he pulled himself upright. He glanced at his side. Blood creeping across the fabric of his clothing. “Talk to me, Moose.”
“Assholes are staying put, but we’ll cover you,” Moose said.
“Let’s go. Just don’t pass out on me,” Lark said in that commanding tone Kawan both loved and hated.
“It’s not that bad.” But it wasn’t that great, either.
Behind them, Sloan laid down cover while Thor and Moose sprinted to intercept. More bullets flew. A grenade arced overhead—but exploded short, sending a wall of dust into the air.
Kawan and Lark stumbled around the side of the chapel where one of their SUVs idled, engine humming.
“We’re in,” Sloan called. “Second vehicle coming up now. Chopper en route.”
Kawan shoved Lark as she dove into the back seat of the SUV. She turned, reaching for him. He groaned, catching it as he heaved himself into the vehicle.
Thor jumped into the passenger seat, and Moose climbed into the back, pulling the double doors shut. “Go, go, go,” Moose yelled.
The SUV tore through the outer streets, tires screeching, Sloan gunning the engine like a man possessed.
Shots pinged off the back glass. Lark ducked low, pulling Kawan with her, his blood smearing the seat.
“You’re hit worse than you’re letting on,” she said, gripping his thigh to stop the bleeding.
He hissed. “Keep doing that, and I’ll bleed on your paperwork.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
Another impact rocked the car—rear quarter panel dented by gunfire.
“Two bikes tailing,” Moose warned. “Inbound, fast.”
“Watch this,” Sloan said, yanking the wheel. The SUV fishtailed, swerved through a tight alley, clipped a crate of oranges, then burst onto the main road leading to the hangar.
“There!” Specs shouted over comms. “The bird’s on deck. Sixty seconds.”
Gunfire cracked from the motorcycles.
Lark grabbed the sidearm from Kawan’s belt, tapped the controls for the window, braced, and took aim.
Two shots. Two hits.
The bikes went down in a tangle of smoke and metal.
“Jesus, that was… nice fucking shot,” Moose said.
“Even I’m impressed,” Kawan said through gritted teeth.
“It’s not like any of you couldn’t have done that.” She sighed as she rebolstered Kawan’s weapon.
They skidded to a stop a few miles out of town and not far from the hangar just as the blades of the Black Hawk spun into full roar.
Thor leapt out, waving to the pilot. “Load them. Go.” He gave the whirlybird sign.
Moose and Sloan hauled Kawan out. Lark staggered alongside, refusing help until she was sure everyone else was clear.
Specs jumped aboard, fingers flying over a tablet as she talked into a headset.
As the helicopter lifted, Kawan slumped against the metal wall, blood seeping through his pants.
Moose tore off his shirt, ripped it, and tied off Kawan’s leg mid-thigh, before taking a pair of scissors and cutting into Kawan’s pants. “Looks like the bullet went clean through.” Moose took gauze and pressed it on both sides of Kawan’s leg.
He groaned.
Lark dropped beside Kawan, breathing hard, face smudged with soot.
She didn’t speak. Just reached out and threaded her fingers through his.
“Your orders were to find the AI software,” she whispered.
“I don’t take orders from you,” he said, voice hoarse. “Besides... you always did like it when I bled for you.”