Page 106 of The Fates We Tame
Halo and Spark stand on either side of the shipping container, looking around the lot like I am, while Bates, Niro, Clutch, and King load the truck. I notice there is a difference between the way the veterans hold their weapons versus the rest. Our hold is active, ready to fire immediately.
Vex stays in the van, ready to drive if need be. For a heartbeat, I wonder if he’d drive off without me. But something tells me he’d no sooner leave me behind than chop off his own arm.
A rat scurries into the warehouse; its claws scratching on the concrete only amplify just how fucking quiet it is.
I look at the containers in the next storage bay over and see the slightest flash of light escape from the bottom of the doors. A second look shows the door is not locked, just pushed shut, but the light is long gone.
Waving, I grab Halo’s attention and, using hand signals, gesture that I suspect there are people in the container. The silent message ripples through the brothers. The others hustle to get the weapons into the van.
Spark comes around to my side of the van as Halo disappears, only to reappear on the opposite side of the rogue container. With help from King, Saint is boosted on top of the container the weapons are in. He lies down on top and points his rifle toward the unbolted container door.
When the last of the weapons has been loaded, the others lean into where we are focused. “You sure you saw something?” King whispers when he comes to stand next to me.
Did I?
A flash of light.
An unlocked door.
Are my insecurities playing a part in what I’m seeing?
BAT.
The acronym comes out of nowhere. But I do what it suggests. I breathe, adjust, and think.
“I saw light.”
And just as I utter the words, the doors are shoved wide open. Men dressed from head to toe in black pour out. Bullets are fired. I shove King to cover behind our shipping container’s door.
Autopilot kicks in. Muscle memory. Somehow, I know exactly what to do without a single deliberate thought.
Opening fire, I take out the two men closest to me.
I’ll deal with the knowledge I’m taking lives later. Because in this moment, it’s more important that my life isn’t one of the ones taken.
Halo takes out three before getting shot in the leg. He limps behind a different container, but the sound of bullets pinging off metal suggests he’s been followed and is still being shot at.
But they underestimate what those few seconds of me seeing them gave us. Saint, on the roof of the container, begins to take them out one at a time. I run behind the hood of the van and provide cover as Bates, Niro, and Spark run behind me, aiming to come at our assailants from behind.
When they are safely across the lot, I head for Halo, coming up behind the asshole pointing a gun at him and pistol whipping him to the ground.
“Where are you shot?” I ask.
“Thigh.” Halo grunts. “Feels like a through and through that missed bone.”
I pull out my knife. Shift my warmer layers out of the way and cut a three-inch strip off the bottom of my shirt before tying it around Halo’s thigh as a tourniquet.
“Motherfucker,” he whispers.
“Sorry. I’ll take a look when we get out of here.”
But from the explosive sounds of gunshots hitting containers, we’re taking more fire than we might be able to handle.
BAT.
Those three letters come to me again.
Breathe. We’ll get out of here.
