Page 92 of Darling Wildfire
“It looks like she’s handcuffed to the bars this time,” I said.
“Rocky, Finn—head towards the bridge, stay low.”
They took off, and I quickly took out a soldier hiding behind some bushes near the edge of the bridge on the other side who was taking aim at them. Then I heard gunfire on our side of the river.
“Fuck—Nyx—”
“On it—” I heard fighting and close combat.
“Damn it, Preacher’s hit,” North said.
I looked out over the landscape again, cursing under my breath. Rocky and Finn were pinned down behind that ridiculous rock wall. I was about to take out another sniper when pain erupted through my shoulder and I recoiled at the impact. I slipped and fell down a few stairs as I scrambled away for cover, then Nyx was there.
“I got ya,” he said. “Atlas was hit.”
He threw my arm around his shoulder and half carried, half dragged me out of the building and into the neighboring one where he put me down beside Preacher.
“Pull back!” North demanded.
“Leave them!” Rocky snapped over comms. “It’s right there! We can do it!”
“Negative. Pull back,” North answered.
“Fuck that—I’m going—Finn?”
“I’m game, let’s roll,” Finn replied.
North lifted his head above the wall just enough to watch the fools race off towards the bridge. They’d been nothing but trouble this entire game. Putting themselves and us in questionable situations. North growled in frustration before kneeling next to me. He pulled off my tactical gear and ripped my shirt off.
“They’re right, you should go, T!” I said, trying to push him away from me. “The four of you can still—” The pain made me dizzy, cutting off my words, and I was sweating profusely even though it wasn’t hot. But I didn’t want us to lose because of me. We were so close and this would be our first loss.
“You’re lucky this was a ricochet and not a full .50 cal,” North grumbled, ignoring me as he quickly did a field dressing on the wound and manhandled me into a sitting position.
“I’m serious,” I said, wincing at the movement.
“It’s not worth it,” Nyx answered, gun trained on the street.
“I’m not losing you over some stupid game,” North snarled.
Preacher was leaning heavily against the wall, blood running down his side. He looked deathly pale. North had tied half his shirt around the wound but his breathing was labored, his face creased in pain.
“Back to the DZ,” North said, lifting me to my feet and slinging my arm over his shoulder.
“Come on, Preach,” Nyx said, doing the same for him.
“Looks like it’s the four of us again,” I said as we piled into the van at the end of the game.
We’d been yards from the safe zone when the buzzer had gone off signaling the end of the game. The kids hadn’t returned.
“If they’d stop giving us children, we might actually be able to hold our numbers,” Nyx muttered.
“At this point, I’ll take anyone who doesn’t treat this like they’ll respawn somewhere,” Preacher said weakly. “I know I’m not a soldier, but I wouldn’t want those kids at my back during a raid.”
“I think we can make you an honorary one at this point,” Nyx said dryly.
Preacher gave him a weak smile. “Oh good, I get to be a jarhead now—”
“I told you, that’s a marine,” Nyx said in mock exasperation.
