Page 34 of What I Should Have Done

“Don’t move,” I snarled down into the black hole and swung my rifle at the unknown intruder.

“It’s me,” Dom grunted, rising another step. “Here,” he immediately added and flung something heavy at me before I’d even pulled my rifle away.

Not something, but someone.

“What the—” I grunted, catching the limp torso beneath its armpits just before it crashed back down the tunnel. Pressure beneath the body pushed as I dragged what seemed a lifeless man from the hole.

Sliding the body back toward Ford, I heard a gasp escape Tank’s lips. “Is that…?” he asked, immediately lowering his rifle and scrambling my way.

“Is he alive?” Tank dropped to his knees beside me. He pressed two fingers to the short man’s neck, feeling for a pulse as Dom emerged from the hole in the floor.

Long, black hair coated with blood splayed out from the man’s head. There were random bald patches amongst the greasy locks. His one eye was swollen, black and blue bruising covered the entire side of his face, and his nose bent at an awkward angle. Cuts and broken skin lined with dried, red liquid littered a face that seemed somewhat recognizable.

Maybe?

“I got a pulse! It’s faint but there,” Ford exclaimed as Duncan emerged from the hole behind Dom.

“Is that…?” I repeated Ford’s question, tipping my head sideways and scanning the man once more. His clothing was torn, bruising littered his skin along his ribs. Pants, caked in more blood, rested beneath fingers clenched in fists.

“It’s Powell,” Dom confirmed. One of the two men that Colonel Duke informed us was feeding us intel from the inside.

“Where’s the Black Box?” Ford asked, rolling Powell sideways, checking him over for any bullet holes or open wounds.

“Wasn’t here,” Dom answered.

“But he was? And beat to shit like this?” Ford questioned.

“We have to fucking go. He’s not gonna make it if we don’t get him to a medic ASAP,” Dom replied without really answering the questions that were rolling through all of our minds. At least, I assumed everyone else was wondering the same things I was.

Somehow Karim al-Jabari figured out who Powell was. That was the only explanation as to why he was beaten nearly to death. And he must have figured out we were coming for the Black Box, which meant, once again, our mission was foiled before it even began. Which thirdly led to my confusion as to how the assailants knew we’d be here and why there were so many left behind to guard someone almost dead.

But what did that mean for the other one still with the terrorist? Did al-Jabari know about him? And what happened to the Black Box?

But most importantly, how the hell did he even know we were going to be here?

“Crow,” Dom radioed as Ford hoisted Powell over his shoulders. “Meet us at our evacuation point.”

“Copy that, Phoenix,” Scottie’s voice replied.

“You take lead, Viper,” Dom instructed.

Standing up, I packed my rifle into my shoulder. A hand patted my shoulder, alerting me to move, and off we went back into the still night full of ghosts left behind by our hands.

“On our way to you, Bernie,” I spoke through the comms.

“All clear so far,” he answered as I stepped down the first flight of stairs.

Chapter 13

MIKEY

The sun broke the horizon just as the hidden dune buggies burst into view. Bernie huffed beside me, having just taken Powell’s still unconscious body from my shoulders. My lungs burned, every cell inside my frame bursting with strain and the bruises that I knew were coming from the rather scrappy fight I’d ended up caught in earlier.

But there they were.

And there Scottie would be waiting.

Skidding around a corner, my stomach dropped. Adrenaline snapped through my veins, setting my elbows on fire with needles. She wasn’t here. She was supposed to be here before we arrived, but she wasn’t. Dom had radioed her to meet us here, and she had been closer to the buggies than we had been. Plus, she wasn’t toting an unconscious body.

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