Page 18 of Shattered

Evers.

Nate obeyed, putting everything he had into it, knowing his life and everyone else’s depended on them getting this bitch open.

Pre-dawn light streamed in through the tiny gap between the edge of the hatch and the fuselage. “Come on, you fucker,” Nate growled, his entire body burning with the effort, sweat slicking his face and spine.

One more coordinated, mammoth heave and something snapped. The hatch swung open. Only a couple feet, but it was enough.

He glanced left, horror washing over him as he took in the situation outside. The plane had plowed through some trees into some sort of field, and the devastation to the front of the aircraft was hard to take in. The nose and cockpit were gone, sheared away by the force of the crash. Flames already licked at the front of the wreckage, creeping aft. Smoke billowed out in thick, black clouds that stung his eyes and the back of his throat.

Throwing an arm over his nose and mouth, Nate coughed and ducked back inside. “This way,” he called out to everyone. “Go out here and run right. Get as far away from the plane as you can.Hurry.”

His first impulse was to locate all his teammates, make sure none of them were hurt, but every moment they stayed in here increased the chances of them dying. Two of the guys had located their rifles and had switched on the tac lights, providing some illumination in the interior.

Stepping out of the way to let the others by, Nate reached for the first person who got close to him—a female. “It’s about a five-foot drop,” he warned her, helping her into the doorway, and wrapped a steadying arm around her waist. She was shaking, hitching in little breaths as she stared out the partially-open hatch at the ground below. “You’ll have to jump.” And she had to do it fast, to clear the way for the others. They didn’t have much time before the flames reached the spilled fuel. A few minutes at most. Maybe less.

She nodded, gripped the sides of the opening, and when he let go, jumped. She hit the ground and fell to her knees, but got up and staggered away to the right, toward the edge of the field they were in. Nate reached back for the next person.

One after the other he helped the passengers escape the wreckage. Thick, acrid smoke spilled in through the open door, and it was getting damn hot out there. Too hot. Then a familiar voice called out from behind him.

“Doc, need a hand here.”

Nate spun around to find Vance half-carrying an injured male agent toward the door. His teammate’s face was drawn tight with pain, and the man he carried had a head wound that had covered his face with blood.

“I gotcha,” Nate managed with a cough, grabbing hold of the injured man’s waist and relieving Vance of the full burden of his weight. His other teammates were busy gathering the rest of the passengers and herding them toward the door. Nate studied Vance’s face. His teammate was definitely hurt. How bad, Nate couldn’t tell yet.

Come on, come on. Hurry.

They both stepped aside to let Tuck escort another female agent out of the plane. When their team leader hopped down with her, released her and turned back to them, Nate and Vance lowered their patient to him. The man’s knees buckled. Without a word Tuck slung the guy over his shoulders and started hustling away from the plane.

Nate glanced left, fear starting to override his control. The flames were spreading ever closer. Even if the whole plane didn’t blow, in another minute it would be impossible to escape the fire.

“We’re clear. Let’s haul ass, boys,” Cruzie said from somewhere behind them. The remaining members of the team jumped out through the ruined hatch. Nate went last, holding his breath, squinting through the stinging smoke. The fire was spreading faster now. Thing was gonna blow any moment.

He ran after the others, heading through the battered cornfield.

Thirty yards away from the plane, he heard it. A thin, panicked cry for help behind him.

“Don’t leave me! Please,helpme!” The terror and desperation in that voice raised the hair on the back of Nate’s neck.

He whipped around, scanning through the rolling smoke, shock jolting through him when his gaze landed on someone dragging himself away on his belly from the burning wreckage. The man wore a flight suit.

One of the flight crew, and he appeared to be hurt bad.

Nate started running toward him, the taste of blood strong in his mouth. Vance had stopped too, was heading back with him. Nate waved him away without slowing. He was closer than his teammate, and Vance was hurt. “I got him! You go!” Several other teammates had stopped as well, were turning back to help.

Ignoring them, Nate put his head down and ran as fast as he could, covering the distance to the man in a matter of seconds. Heat seared his face, neck and hands as he approached, but he kept going.

The wounded airman was sobbing on the ground, his legs stretched out behind him as he clawed his way toward Nate using just his arms. Poor bastard’s legs were on fire.

Heat blasted Nate’s skin, blistering in its intensity. He couldn’t stop. He was the wounded man’s only chance.

Skidding to his knees beside the man, Nate smothered the flames licking at the charred remains of his flight suit legs. There was no time to assess how bad the damage was, or worry about hurting the patient more by moving him. He reached under the man’s armpits, intending to haul him up and throw him across his shoulders.

“Julian,” the man cried out, twisting his head to look to the left.

Nate followed his frantic gaze, stifled a curse when he saw another crewman lying crumpled in the grass several yards away, his body partially obscured by the smoke. He was probably dead. Nate’s priority was getting his patient to safety.

“I got him,” a deep voice rumbled over his left shoulder.

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