Page 5 of Taken By the Soldier
In a flurry of movement, the Americans run down the street in the opposite direction, hanging low between automobiles and rubble.
I follow with my men, chasing the Americans until they’re long gone from the area. Catching them isn’t our top priority. Neither is killing them. As General Clover said, the war is nearly over, and most American soldiers have already given up fighting and fled the East Coast alongside civilians. Those who remain are on their own and possess few resources.
As we return to the truck, the telltale sound of another rocket launching rings out, this time from a completely different direction.
Fuck. Don’t these fools know when to give up?
After an alert from my scanner reveals the rocket is accelerating toward the truck, I quickly use my renavigator to alter the projectile’s course, even if the truck likely would’ve withstood the impact. The rocket shoots over our heads, hitting the tall apartment building behind us. Seconds later, another rocket launches, and I use the renavigator to force it into the same building.
The large apartment building quakes, and I put on my goggles again, surveying the scene in case any survivors are about to become trapped inside.
Breathing through the smoke, I crouch down as the building partially collapses, waiting for the thunderous tremors to stop so I can sweep the scene one last time.
Anyone trapped inside is likely dead, but I feel obligated to help if someone is buried alive. My goggles zero in on an unmoving orange-red form inside the smoldering building.
One survivor.
Instinct and training propel me forward. I slip on a pair of protective gloves and an oxygen mask, watching as Gunnar and Forrest do the same.
The three of us work as a team, crawling through a window and searching for the best passage to the orange-red glow. Many of the walls remain standing, and I lead the way through the rubble as the structure creaks and groans, threatening to collapse around us at any moment.
The glow of the body draws closer, until only a wall separates us from it. Forrest pulls a strong handheld laser cutter from his pocket, and I nod my approval. He angles the narrow blue beam to cut a man-size hole in the wall, then sets the laser aside and curls his gloved hands into fists and punches it out. Gunnar is fast to push the debris aside. I jump through the entrance first and immediately spot the slumped form on the floor.
Rushing to the survivor, I gently turn her over on her back. I remove my goggles so I might get a better look at her. Long blonde curls fall away from her face. A thin nightgown is bunched up around her waist, and a bruise is forming on her forehead. Her eyes are clamped shut, though I detect a faint pulse.
Working fast, I remove an emergency oxygen mask from my supply belt and place it over the young woman’s nose and mouth. I’m struck by how vulnerable she looks lying unconscious while wearing nothing but a thin nightgown. I quickly unbutton my uniform shirt and drape it over her body, and I can feel Forrest and Gunnar’s shocked stares as I do so.
“It’s going to be okay.” I scoop her up into my arms. “Let’s get you out of here, princess.”
Chapter4
LUKA
“Congratulations on your catch, Commander,”Gunnar says with a wink.
I frown.
Well, Ihavejust found a woman.
An unconscious American woman who will be surprised to awake in the company of Zasforran soldiers.
As I peer down at her, taking note of her delicate features, I get the sense that she will prove feisty, and to my astonishment, I feel my blood heating at the prospect.
I carefully tend her wounds, bandaging her palms and knees, which have been scraped bloody. I check her vitals and I’m satisfied that her oxygen level has normalized. She doesn’t require the mask anymore. I give her a shot for the pain and impatiently wait for her to wake up.
After covering her with a blanket, I repossess my uniform shirt and put it back on. I’m shocked by how pleased I am that it smells like her. Like some kind of fucking flowers.
Jesus. What’s wrong with me?
I don’t want to take a wife. I don’t.
I’m only following orders.
Minutes creep by as the truck sways steadily, and Gunnar and Forrest soon fall asleep with their women tucked between them under a blanket. I eye them with curiosity, wondering how they’ve matched up already. Chloe seems to belong to Gunnar, and Adella seems to belong to Forrest. Did they flip a coin when I wasn’t looking?
I inspectmywoman’sright hand. No wedding ring. She appears young, late twenties or early thirties. Definitely of childbearing age.
What the hell was she doing in Baltimore?
