Page 3 of Everest

“End of hall, from your location,” Cowboy replies.

At the end of the hall, just outside the door of another room, Cowboy has his rifle trained on a cartel member, and I’m wondering why he hasn’t put a bullet in his head yet.

“You’ve just dug your own graves,” the cartel member spits at him as we approach.

I pause, looking at the bastard. “Good thing dirt doesn’t care whose corpse it is,” I tell the motherfucker then watch with satisfaction as Cowboy pulls the trigger.

When we enter the room, we find Riggs and Preacher helping the now-rescued climb out of a hole in the floor. But with them are extra warm bodies—three young girls who can’t be any older than their teens. My stomach coils.

“Underground tunnels. Most likely used for drug smugglers and skin traders,” Preacher states, the beam of his flashlight shining down into the dark hole, looking for others.

As I watch the group huddle together, my chest tightens at the sight of the three girls. Their fear is palpable and suffocating. Their wide eyes dart around like startled deer. I notice how they cling to each other, their knuckles white. I know the dark truth of the situation and the horrors that awaited all of them. The thought ignites a fierce burning in my chest, and I clench my fists tightly. “They touch any of you?” I ask, my voice laced with concern.

“No,” the brunette reassures me, her eyes wide as she and the blonde—both older—shield the young girls.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here. The extraction point is half a mile north,” Riggs says with urgency.

We gather the rescues and work our way out, Preacher helping the beaten man walk out of the building. My boots pound against the dry, cracked ground as we leave the old villa behind us and scan our surroundings, my eyes adjusting again to the endless void of black.

“Pick up the pace,” Cowboy barks, his voice tight. “We got about sixty seconds before we see fireworks.”

The rescues attempt to pick up the pace, but exhaustion drags them down. One of the women nearly trips, but Thor hauls her up without breaking his stride.

“Keep movin’,” Riggs snaps, glancing over his shoulder.

An eerie stillness in the air makes the hair on the back of my neck rise.

Then, the night erupts.

The villa explodes in a massive fireball, followed by a shockwave that feels like it passes through my body. The roar is deafening, causing my ears to ring. Heat soon follows, even from this distance, a wave of scorching air carrying the stench of burning stone, wood, and flesh. The flames light up the night sky with shades of orange and red as plumes of thick black smoke coil upward, turning the night into a battlefield.

Preacher coughs, waving his hand in front of his face as the burnt smell thickens. “I think I just inhaled one of them dead cartel motherfuckers.”

“Incoming!” Cowboy shouts from behind, and we look over our shoulders. Barely visible through the smoke-choked darkness, headlights slice through.

“Fuck! Get down!” Riggs barks at the rescues, and they drop, covering their heads, the women and men shielding the girls.

I keep my eyes locked on the vehicle barreling straight toward us. Then gunfire rips through the dark, bullets pelting the ground.

“Where the hell did they come from?” Thor shouts.

Cowboy drops to one knee, shoulders the small grenade launcher he’s been itching to use, and lines up his shot. The thump of the launcher barely registers before the truck explodes, sending metal shards into the air while sending another shockwave rattling through my chest.

“Move, move, move!” Riggs barks, and everyone is up and pushing forward.

We reach the extraction point as the deepwhoosh-whompof helicopter blades cuts through the night. The rotor kicks up a storm of sand and grit, stinging the skin on my face as we load the rescues into the chopper, putting us right at max capacity.The second the door slides shut, the pilot lifts off. My stomach lurches, gravity pulling hard on my body before we level out. The smell of sweat, blood, and spent gunpowder clings to my clothes, and adrenaline still thrums in my veins as a heavy breath leaves my body.

I shift in my seat, scanning the people packed in the chopper. Preacher is across from me, his rifle cradled across his chest. Cowboy is next to him, head tilted back, eyes closed. Thor is at the door, his eyes looking out the window. Riggs is at my side, his usual controlled energy humming under the surface.

I glance at our rescues. They’re weary and exhausted but alive, and that’s what matters.

The ride stretches on, nothing but the pulse of the rotors breaking the stillness. I finally let my head fall against the metal interior, staring at the bolts and panels above me.

“You handled yourself like a soldier out there.” Riggs’ voice cuts through the hum of the chopper. “Damn glad I brought you along.” There’s no bullshit in his words, no empty praise, just pride in his tone.

Something tightens in my chest, something I don’t have words for, so I nod, hoping that’s enough.

After landing at another secure location, the rescued are loaded into a passenger van. The brunette steps forward, her face streaked with dirt and sweat. She makes sure to lock eyes with each of us. “Those girls are why I continue to do what I do, regardless of the danger I put myself in.” She looks back at the van and then at us again. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

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