Page 48 of Ghost of Talon Mountain
The silence hits like a physical blow. My ears ring in the sudden absence of gunfire. I scan the slope through the smoke and cordite haze, count bodies. Six down. Maybe seven. The rest have fallen back, regrouping behind the vehicles.
"You hit?" Chris asks. His voice sounds distant through the ringing in my ears.
"Graze on my arm. Nothing critical." I check the wound—shallow cut along my bicep, bleeding steady but not arterial. I can still use the arm. "You?"
"I'm good." But his breathing is labored, face flushed. "Ammo?"
"Thirty-six rounds." I check my magazine to confirm. "You?"
"Thirty. Plus what's in the rifle." He scans the slope. "They'll regroup. Come at us harder next time."
"How long do we have?"
"Five minutes. Maybe ten." He moves to check our flanks, make sure no one's circling around while we're distracted. "They're professionals. They'll learn from their mistakes. Next push will be coordinated, multiple angles simultaneously."
My hands shake as I reload. Not from fear—from adrenaline crash. The body's natural response after combat. I force them steady, can't afford weakness now.
Then I hear it. A voice, amplified by a bullhorn.
"Agent Vale. Calder. This is Deputy Director Healy. You're surrounded and outgunned. Surrender your devices and come down peacefully. You have my word you'll be taken into custody unharmed."
His word. Like that means anything from a man who's been running a trafficking network for years.
"What do you think?" I ask Chris.
"I think he's lying. The second we step into the open, we're dead."
"Agreed." I check my laptop—still secure in its case, still encrypted. The failsafe is active. "So we wait him out. Two hours until my next check-in. If I miss it, everything uploads."
"He knows that. That's why he's trying to get us to surrender."
"Then we stay alive long enough for the failsafe to trigger if we need it."
Chris grins—fierce and dangerous. "Or we win and upload it ourselves."
In the valley below, engines start again. The remaining operators are repositioning. Getting ready for another assault.
"Here we go," Chris says.
I check my weapon. Last full mag.
"Let's end this," I say.
12
CHRIS
Three rounds left. One spare magazine. Not enough to win a firefight, but enough to buy time.
"Move!" I shove Sierra toward the tree line as bullets chew through the snow where we were standing three seconds ago. The operators are closing in from two directions, trying to flank us. Healy's playing for keeps now.
Sierra runs, favoring her injured shoulder but keeping pace. Behind us, engines rev—they're trying to cut off our escape route. Not going to happen.
"Cave system," I gasp, pulling her left at a deadfall. "Half a klick northeast. Defensible."
"They'll follow."
"Let them. We need to buy time for your failsafe."
