Page 30 of Forest Reed
Forest
Gunfire cracked off the dam face, stone chips spraying like angry hornets. I dropped behind a concrete pillar, returning fire, every shot thunderous in the tight space. The roar of the spillway below was deafening, water surging like a beast straining at its cage.
Zoe was on my left, moving low, fast, her Glock barking in sharp bursts. She wasn’t just holding her ground—she was pushing them back, fierce and unflinching.
Jason knelt in the open, tools scattered around him, fingers flying over the tangle of wires like a pianist hammering a desperate song. The timer’s red glow painted his face—1:27, 1:26—each second bleeding away too fast.
“Cover me!” he shouted, not looking up.
“Already doing it,” Zoe snapped, leaning around the pillar and dropping a wolf that had crept too close.
I shifted, putting myself between Jason and the advancing line. My rifle barked, one shot—two—then a third. Three bodies hit the gravel, but more shadows pressed forward, relentless.
The comm crackled in my ear. Lane’s voice, ragged with static. “We’re three minutes out—”
“Too late,” I growled.
One of North’s men tossed something metal across the ground. It clinked once, twice—
“Grenade!” I roared.
Zoe dove, grabbed Jason’s arm, yanking him sideways as the blast tore the air apart. Concrete shuddered, smoke and dust choking the space. My ears rang, chest heaving, but I was still upright. Barely.
The timer blinked through the haze. 0:51.
Jason coughed, swore, wiped blood from his temple. “Almost there—just keep them off me!”
The wolves regrouped, firing into the smoke. Bullets screamed past, one slamming into the pillar inches from my head.
Zoe’s eyes met mine through the haze—fierce, wild, alive. “We don’t let him win.”
I nodded once, chambered another round, and rose into the storm.
The fight was ours. Or the flood would be.
Zoe
The timer bled down—thirty seconds, twenty-nine—each blink pounding into my skull. My lungs burned with smoke and panic as I fired blind into the shadows, just to keep the wolves pinned.
Jason’s voice was tight, clipped. “Too many redundancies—he wanted me chasing ghosts.”
“Pick one,” Forest growled. “Make it the right one.”
The timer glared red. 0:18.
Jason’s hands shook, sweat streaking dirt across his face. His lips moved in a low litany—numbers, colors, patterns—like he could force order into the chaos.
0:10.
Bullets whined past. Forest fired three quick shots, reloading without ever taking his eyes off Jason. I caught the flicker of fear in his face—the kind he never let anyone see.
0:05.
Jason’s cutters hovered, breath ragged. “Trust me.”
Forest’s voice was a growl, but steady. “We do.”
0:03.
