The trigger beneath my finger felt foreign, cold and unfamiliar.
And nobody was answering.
None of this was supposed to have happened. I was supposed to have been eyes and then cover for them as they slipped out of the building still undetected with the Black Box to then blow that shit up. Firing only when and if it was necessary—those were my orders. But now, I had no idea if they were dead or alive, and ten combatants had just arrived.
If I fired, it would give away my location. If I didn’t fire and my team was somehow still alive, then they would certainly not remain that way.
As if the entire dark valley evolved into the scythe of death, rising from the ashes were four dark figures. Steel frames of men morphing from shadows into solid beings appeared directly next to the dune vehicles. Two per buggy. Men that readied themselves to attack. Men I knew.
Seeing no other option, knowing that I had to do something to help, I squeezed the trigger. A sharp crack sounded through the air as my first bullet snapped through the skull of the man standing behind the front gatling gun.
Chaos ensued.
Metal clanged, grunts filled the crater, and a few cracks popped into the atmosphere.
As quickly as I could, I shifted my sights to the second gatling gun, but found that enemy combatant slumped over the gun. Already dead.
Returning the tip of my gun to the fight, my heart stopped. I shouldn’t have stared. I should have been more proactive, but nobody was giving me orders despite the sideways shit our mission had already gone, and the sight captivated me.
Two combatants dove at Mikey. With a sweep of his foot, one target slammed face-first into the dirt as if he was water crashing down a riverbank. Mikey continued the momentum, latching a hand onto the ankle of the other assailant and ripping him to the ground.
Within half a second, he aimed, and a bullet sliced through the air into one target’s face. Blood sprayed from the wound, as he whipped around.
But I was faster.
Squeezing my trigger, before the enemy managed to scramble up from the ground, a hole seared through his skull. Red trickled from the gaping wound.
And the most piercing glare of fiery blue snapped up. Rage blazed behind the pool of calm that normally swirled in his gaze. Was he angry at me? A shiver stole up my spine. Mikey only stared for half a second as he spun on his heel. In a single, fluid moment, he slipped a knife out of its sheath and threw it behind him.
The blade sliced into an oncoming assailant’s eye. So visceral, the squelch was almost audible in my head.
Lips parted, the enemy screeched in pain and horror, grasping at the hilt as Mikey raced the last couple steps, wrapped his hand around the man’s chin, and jerked sideways. Bones crunched. The combatant crumpled to the ground, his neck snapped, and Mikey darted to his next target.
Stunned, unfocused, something peppered into the ground near me, jolting back my attention. Grains of sand sprayed down beside me as the whir of an automatic weapon drummed through the shouts of the fight.
Swinging my scope, I locked sights onto a new man at the gatling gun—and he was aimed in my general direction.
One final inhale. One last exhale, and I squeezed my metal trigger.
He dropped like a rock plummeting to the bottom of the ocean. Head clanging against the gun, he slammed deadweight to the floor of the dune buggy.
And just like that, silence returned.
My heart hammered in my chest, pumping blood blindly into every available orifice. Lingering sounds of fist and fire pelting around me rang in my ears. My nose sucked in oxygen faster than it was available as the hell settled around me. The tips of my toes prickled, a thousand needles stabbing at the skin digging into my boots. The fabric crusted against my body grated like sandpaper as I waited.
Ragged breaths drawn through my balaclava covered in sand and dust filled my lungs, and I began to count.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Sweeping the area again, I counted four. Only four of the five operators from my team stood amongst ten dead bodies.
One was missing.