Page 53 of Gravel and Grit

Pausing, he listened to be sure it was clear before opening the door and stepping out. He walked to the edge and peered down at the police officers on the ground, watching as they positioned themselves behind open car doors and aimed their weapons at the storefront.

He caught the wordsdisguiseandmaskand smirked. Humans had developed a fantastically convenient propensity to deny what was right in front of them over the last few decades.

Leaving them to shout orders of surrender to an empty store, Zaek leapt from roof to roof, waiting to fly until he reached the edge of town where the chances of being spotted were less likely.

He was halfway there when the sound of a helicopter reached his ears.

Dread settled in his stomach like a rock. This town was too small to have one on their police force. The sound of multiple car engines speeding his way came next. When he ran to the ledge, he saw a dozen black SUVs racing down the main street of downtown.

They found us.

They must have been monitoring police communications. Worse, they must have already been in the area to get there so quickly.

More SUVs approached from the other direction and, within seconds, dozens of soldiers dressed in black tactical gear spilled out of the vehicles, spreading everywhere.

There was no way he could outfly a helicopter, and the soldiers would have the town surrounded before he could make it out.

Still, he had to try.

Zaek ran, heading east, the opposite direction of home. He couldn’t head back to the cabin. Mira was there and he wouldn’t take the chance they’d follow him. He had to lead them away then double back, but only if, and when, it was safe.

3 5

MIRA

“It shouldn’t be taking this long,” she muttered to herself, pacing back and forth in the living room.

She stopped to look through the front window with every pass, searching the dark sky for his form. Every time it was empty, and her worry grew a little stronger, her heartbeat a little faster.

Zaek had been gone a long time, too long. He’d said it shouldn’t take him more than two hours, three at the most, to fly there, get what they needed, and fly back. It had been just over four.

Something was wrong, she could feel it.

The phone they’d modified was held tightly in her hands, but she hadn’t turned it on, not yet. They’d been very careful to only do that once a day, and only for a few minutes. It had kept their spying from being discovered this long, and she didn’t want to risk ruining that now. Not when she didn’t know for sure if Zaek was even in trouble, and definitely not while they were separated.

What if he was just stopping for extra supplies? What if nothing was wrong, and she turned on the phone twice in one day, and that’s all it took to bring the security team down on their heads?

But, somethingwaswrong. Sheknewit. The only thing that would keep him away from her any longer than absolutely necessary was if he were in danger. He wouldn’t lead them back to her, no matter what.

She held out another half an hour before she gave in.

“Be smart. If you’re going to take a risk, do what you can to mitigate it.”

Rushing to their bedroom, she grabbed her stolen backpack and filled it with only the necessities—enough food for a day, water for two, and weapons. That done, she left the backpack in the living room and went to the basement. Hauling the heavy beacon up the stairs damn near ended in a broken neck, even with the added strength thedassaprovided her, but she managed it and lowered it to the couch next to the backpack with a grunt.

Next, she put on the armor Zaek cobbled together for her from pieces of his military-grade spacesuit and plates from stolen kevlar vests. It didn’t protect her legs or arms, but it would stop any bullets aimed at her chest and vital organs. She slipped a handgun into the left holster and the tranq pistol Zaek made her into the right, then strapped the throwing knives he’d taught her to use around her right thigh.

She felt like a miniature, significantly less capable, and infinitely more terrified version of Lara Croft, as she returned to the living room. Two weeks of training, even with a teacher as skilled and proficient as Zaek, did not a badass make.

Her hands were shaking when she powered the phone on, and that only got worse when voices—urgent, excited masculine voices—immediately burst from it.

“Team 3, go south. Flank it. Don’t let it fly away!”

“Contact left. Direct hit. It’s still moving! It’s got that fuckingexoskeleton. Aim for the wings.”

Under the voices were the sounds of rapid gunfire and a rhythmicthwump-thwump-thwumpof helicopter blades.

Mira listened in horror as they talked about corneringit, takingitdown, eliminatingit.

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