Page 50 of The Surrogate Omega, Part Two

“What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?” someone yells. Then I hear two gunshots. I can’t breathe, imagining the worst. Then two blobs are suddenly down, like they are lying on the ground rather than standing up.

“We no longer have the element of surprise so we have to fucking move before they realize they’re down men.”

I breathe a small sigh of relief. Ok, our group is safe. My relief is short-lived, however, as some kind of siren begins blaring through the communication device.

“Fuck. Let’s move now!”

I can’t really keep track of what happens next. There’s a lot of yelling, more gun shots, and those fucking alarms never stop screeching. But from the little bit I can make out, the extraction team is unharmed and still making progress toward the kids.

“We have eyes on them,” someone says. “B team, flank the building. Don’t let anyone fucking get near us. A team, get those kids out. There’s another flurry of activity as the team cautiously approaches the building.

The two guards by the entrance are easily eliminated from what I can tell. Then there’s more rummaging, a lot of muttering about keys, and then the unmistakable sounds of the door being kicked down.

A couple screams ring through the line, followed by a couple of teenage-sounding voices hushing the rest of the group and whispering some quiet encouragements.

“Gods, I hate people.” I don’t know who said that, but he sounds so disgusted I can’t even imagine the condition these children are in.

“Shh, it’s ok. We’re the good guys. We’re getting you out of here.”

There’s crying and yelling and a lot of coaxing and gentle encouragements as the men try to get the kids to safety. I hear something sharp pounding against metal, like they’re trying to break chains. I’m trying to stay focused. Lake has switched the surveillance from whatever drones or cameras he had on the island, and now we’re seeing the body cams of the team. Despite the night-vision technology, everything is still just blurry shapes to me, and with the men constantly on the move, I can only sort of follow along.

I see glimpses of the other men and the children as they start to scoop up the ones who can’t walk and urge along the ones who can. I can’t make out which one is Logan any better now than I could with the heat signatures, and I can’t tell if any of these kids is Rory. Please, fuck, let one of them be Rory.

“Is this everyone? We’re blowing this shit to smithereens, so anyone who needs to get off this island needs to be with us in the next two minutes.”

I’m assuming the voice in charge is talking to one of the undercover agents who’s been on the island, but I can’t be sure.

“We’ve got everyone.”

“I’m trusting you to be right. Let’s go.”

The moment of peace the team had when getting the kids out is shattered once they leave the building. Even over the blaring alarm, the sounds of gunfire and other explosions ring out. It sounds like they’re closing in on the team.

“We need to move now! Kellan and Soder, give us thirty seconds and then do your thing.”

“Will that be enough time?” someone asks, and I swear it’s Logan.

“It’s going to have to be.”

It’s well coordinated chaos. That’s all I can really say from my perspective. Lake and Donnelly are like machines over here, being the eyes from afar to keep the team safe. More than once, they alert the team of a trafficker on their tail just before shots are fired.

“The boats are waiting for you two miles east. Keep going in that direction and they will be there. They can provide cover fire, just get over there,” Lake tells the team calmly. He’s completely in the zone. He’s breathing easily. He’s not even sweating, just like this is a normal day for him.

Meanwhile, my heart is pounding one thousand miles a minute, my hands are shaking, and I think I might die of a heart attack before they get to safety. Is this really what Lake’s job is like? Just when I thought I couldn’t be more impressed by my mate . . .

It’s hard to follow the body cams as they sprint to safety. I’m not even sure who we are watching. Most of the team are carrying kids in their arms and over their shoulders while still taking out traffickers without slowing down. If it wasn’t my mate out there, I think I'd be fascinated.

I can’t see Logan, but no one seems to be yelling for him, so I hope that means he’s keeping up. I know he’s a cop, but he doesn’t do rescue missions like this on a regular basis. I’m so fucking proud of him for stepping up even if he must be out of his comfort zone.

The thirty seconds pass way too fast, and I have no idea if the team is in the clear. “Buildings are going up in 5,4,3,2,1!”

The alarm thankfully stops as the island goes up in smoke, the sounds of the explosions masking all others. The man whose body camera we’re watching stutters forward from the force, nearly hitting the ground. But he’s on his feet in seconds and is still running. It’s hard to make out what’s happening, but I think the team is far enough, though it’s kind of impossible to tell. It’s getting harder and harder to make out the cameras, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s from the smoke.

And then the cameras cut out. “We lost visuals, Wolf Pack. Can you still hear us?”

“Affirmative, I can hear you.” There’s a wave of static. “I can’t see fucking shit. Oh wait, I see boats. I think we’re close.”

“Just keep going in the direction you were. You’ll see them.”

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