by Cindy Dees
A short pause ensued. On a hunch, she fired through the thin aluminum barn wall again, at about the spot where she’d just hit the shooter. Another cry rang out. Yup, as she’d expected. Someone had come over to retrieve their hurt buddy. Now Proctor’s men had two guys down and exposed. Should she try for a third lucky hit?
She reached over for a freshly loaded weapon, and Gray’s hand on her wrist made her look over at him. He shook his head. “Not enough ammo,” he breathed.
He was right. They couldn’t afford to take foolish shots.
Another pause ensued. She registered vaguely that time was wildly distorted at the moment. Pauses of seconds seemed to drag on for days. From the time the firefight had started till now had been under three minutes.
The pause continued. No doubt Proctor’s men were cautiously retrieving the bodies of their downed comrades. While they were busy, Gray whispered, “How ’bout you go blow up the tunnel?”
“How ’bout I stay here and lay down covering fire, and you blow it up,” she whispered back.
“I don’t want to leave you here—”
She cut him off. “We’ve been over this before. I can take care of myself.”
He gave her one hard look and then nodded. “I’ll be back in a minute. If it gets too hot out here, retreat to the tunnel. We’ve still got your eyes on our side.”
Son of a gun. Had the man finally learned to trust her?
“Roger,” she replied more jauntily than she felt. He passed her the spare pistol and remaining ammunition. There wasn’t a lot left. Their theory when they’d been planning this junket had been that, if it came to a firefight, they were screwed anyway, and it wouldn’t matter if they had a ton of ammunition or not. She had about two dozen shots left between both weapons. Time to improvise.
She thought hard about supplies she’d seen scattered around the barn before. It might be possible to blow up the barn with stuff on hand, but that wouldn’t do her and Gray a lot of good if they were inside it when it blew. The back side of the barn was maybe a hundred feet from a stretch of forest. If they could make it to the cover of the trees, the two of them would stand a fighting chance.
She went through four more precious bullets firing at shooters probing her defensive perimeter. Surely Proctor’s men knew if they were patient enough, she and Gray would run out of ammo.
She felt Gray’s presence behind her before she heard him. He put a hand in the middle of her back, and she took a ridiculously huge amount of comfort from his simple touch. “In about ten minutes, the tunnel will be history,” he reported quietly. “How are we doing up here?”
“Stalemated. They know we’ll run out of ammo, and they’re feinting now to draw my fire. I, however, am refusing to fire anymore unless they give me a clear shot.”
“They’ll rush the building before long,” he replied grimly. “It would be a long shot, but maybe we could cut a hole in the back wall of the barn and get out that way. We would have to create some sort of distraction that would buy us time to make for the woods, though.”
“How about a trip wire in the doorway that’ll blow up the building when they rush it?” she suggested.
“That would do it. We’d just have to be outside before it blew.”
“I’ll take my chances with tricky timing over no chance at all.”
He looked shocked as he breathed, “I actually agree with you.”
“Praise the Lord,” she replied fervently. If he wanted to live and put his formidable mind to the job, the two of them couldn’t help but find a way to survive. Passing the weapons to Gray, she breathed, “Cover me while I grab the stuff we’ll need to wire a bomb.”
Shock: he didn’t argue. Now that they were on the verge of dying, apparently he’d accepted that she could pull her own weight. Better late than never. Now they just had to make it out of here so it meant something.
He took up a firing position and nodded at her. She leaped out of the hole and sprinted across the open space in front of the door to the workbench in the corner. Bullets zinged past her, and one passed so close she felt it lift her hair. So terrified she could hardly think, she dived for cover behind the workbench. She stuck one arm up and grabbed everything she thought she’d need by feel. While she was at it, she randomly grabbed fistfuls of whatever else her hand encountered and stuffed it in her pockets.
Her slacks bulging with gadgets and wires, she crouched in the shadows, waiting, as a shooter popped up from behind a tractor. The guy sent a volley of shots at the hole, and Gray braved the withering fire to pop up and fire a round back. While the two men were occupied, she darted across the barn toward a pair of small propane tanks, the kind used with backyard grills. She prayed they weren’t empty. Her whole plan hinged on it.
She hefted the first tank. Oh, yeah. It was heavy. Felt full, in fact. She took a moment to attach the end of a spool of wire to the leg of a table beside her, and then she lifted the propane tanks. Carrying one in each hand, she ran to Gray.
Dirt sprayed up around her feet, and a bullet burned her arm as it creased her. Time stopped as Gray stood up, horror written on his face. All of Proctor’s men must have stepped out to have a go at her. She was so dead. She took a running step. Another.
Gray’s muzzle flashed and his mouth opened, shouting something she couldn’t hear in the deafening barrage. With all her strength, she leaped, diving headfirst for the hole.
She hit the dirt hard, and time lurched into motion as she knocked the breath out of herself. She fetched up hard, barely stopping her momentum before she crashed off the ledge and fell to the lower level. As it was, her legs swung out into empty space. She yanked them back before she overbalanced and fell anyway.
A barrage of weapons fire exploded and she crawled for Gray’s side. He passed her a pistol. “You hit?” he bit out.
“No. I’m good.”
He nodded, concentrating on the barn door. “They’re getting bold. They’ve figured out we’re light on ammo.”
“Two minutes,” she retorted. “Can you buy me that long?”
“I’ll find a way.”
She got to work fast. Thankfully, the key components she would need, an actuator and a remote control, were already assembled. She merely had to modify the actuator to create a spark and hook it to the propane tanks. The hole they stood in would work to contain most of the propane gas. She used the tarp she’d covered the computer glow with earlier to cover the open area above the lower level she’d almost fallen into. She used the second tarp to enclose the entire hole above. The pocket she’d created should hold the propane gas until they detonated it remotely.
“Bomb’s good to go. Now I just have to connect the other end of this spool of wire to something, and we’re ready,” she said.
He lifted the rifle into firing position against his shoulder and made eye contact with her over its barrel. And he smiled.
It was just an instant. But it was enough. A promise for if they got out of here alive. Her heart soared.
She held up three fingers. She folded one down. Then another. And then there was just a fist. One last time, she darted out of the hole. Gray shot from behind her as she dove for a pile of spare tires just inside the barn door. Gray shot again. He had to be about out of bullets. But he was managing by popping up and down and moving around within the hole to keep everyone’s attention on him. Even if he was taking insane risks with his life.
She rose to her feet as a fusillade of fire wound down and ran for Gray. Somehow, somewhere, in her misspent life, she must have accumulated some good karma because she made it to the hole and dived under the tarp without getting hit.
Now all they had to do was head for the back wall, cut a hole and wait for Proctor’s men to charge. When Proctor’s men breached the barn, she and Gray would dive outside and let the trip wire blow the building and the men in it sky-high. In the chaos to follow, the two of them would head for the woods.
Easy peasy. Except no plan ever went exactly according to p
lan. She just hoped their last few bullets would be sufficient to solve any last-minute monkey wrenches.
They each took deep breaths and Gray turned on one of the propane tanks. As the highly flammable gas whooshed out, quickly filling the hole, the two of them eased out of it on their bellies and slithered for the back of the barn. They crawled behind a storage cabinet and Gray went to work on the aluminum wall with heavy shears she’d lifted from the workbench, cutting at it frantically. She pitched in and helped with the wire cutters while keeping a pistol trained on the doorway.
She heard a commotion outside, and Gray swore under his breath. “Are we through?” she whispered.
“Not quite. A few more seconds. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. Shouting. And I don’t have superhearing.”
Gray worked urgently as she turned fully to face the doorway. A lone figure came out from behind the pickup truck jawing loudly. She stared in shock as Ricki the Rocket came into sight down the barrel of her pistol. What the heck?
“What the hell are you doing, Sam? Come out of there right this minute. I’ve had enough of your crap. I’ll teach you how to act like a proper woman—”
Surely it was no coincidence that her ex had hooked up with Proctor. No way had he just wandered accidentally into the middle of all this. Had Proctor been using Ricki all along to get to her, to get inside the Winston Operation? Ricki? A spy?
In the millisecond it took those thoughts to flash through her brain, Ricki took a step forward, and time shifted again into slow motion around her.
Her finger started to close around the trigger. Gray whispered frantically from beside her, “I’m not through the wall yet.”
Ricki’s foot lifted. Moved dangerously close to the trip wire. Her finger pulled through the trigger, and even the deafening explosion of the pistol reverberated in her head in slow motion. Ricki started to pitch forward.
They weren’t going to make it. Ricki’s body was going to fall across the trip wire, and there was no hole in the wall for them to dive through. They were going to blow up along with the building. Gray wrapped his arms around her and flung her backward violently.
As Ricki toppled over, her shoulder blades crashed into the wall. A bright flash of light blinded her completely as Gray’s body weight slammed into her. The aluminum at her back gave way suddenly, buckling under her and Gray’s combined weight. As the second, still pressurized propane tank blew, a blast of concussion smashed them the rest of the way through the wall.
A monstrous wave of sound and heat broke over them, crushing them in its path. Were she not plastered flat on the ground with Gray on top of her absorbing most of the impact, she’d have been incinerated. As it was, her lungs felt seared to a crisp, and she couldn’t draw a breath.
Oh, God. Gray! Don’t be dead. Please, please don’t be dead! She pushed frantically at his prone body on top of hers, rolling him off her with preternatural strength she had no idea she possessed. Finally, she managed to drag a sobbing breath into her lungs. The explosion had flung them maybe thirty feet from the barn, which was now a blazing inferno. And she was blind.
She blinked her eyes frantically, willing her rods and cones to adjust to the bright light flickering all around them.
“Gray!” she cried, shaking him. She made out a shape that might be his face. Was that his eyelids fluttering? She couldn’t see past the painful white light in her own eyes. “Wake up! We’ve got to go!”
He moved his head, turning it side to side sluggishly. “Huh?”
“Come on.” She pulled as hard as she could on his arm in a futile attempt to drag him toward the woods. He grunted and rolled onto his hands and knees.
“Tunnel,” he mumbled. “Gonna blow.”
Oh, God. The charges he’d set down there were going to blow any second. And they’d go big. This field was going to be a crater. He staggered to his feet and she jumped up beside him. She put a hand on his back to steady him and felt the tatters of his shirt. It must have been burned away in the blast. But she also felt the familiar bulk of Kevlar. God bless his Boy Scout preparedness.
“Lead on,” he mumbled.
Now was probably not a great time to explain to him that she was more blind than not. They’d taken a half dozen steps when a second explosion knocked them to the ground. The earth literally opened up behind them, leaving them lying on the edge of a massive crater. It was as if the entire field had heaved up into the sky. On cue, great clods of dirt began to shower down on their heads.
They climbed painfully to their feet once more and took off in a shambling run toward the woods. It turned out her legs weren’t much steadier than his. As they approached the black wall of forest, she panted, “Uhh, small problem. I can’t see.”
“At all?” he murmured in surprise.
“I’m as blind as a kitten.” And it scared her worse than being shot at, worse than being trapped in a barn in a firefight, worse than almost being blown to Kingdom come. Worse, even, than her fear that Gray had sacrificed himself to protect her from the blast.
Thankfully, Gray seemed to be regaining his senses. “This way,” he instructed her under his breath. He took her arm and guided her toward the protective cover of the trees. They ducked under the first branches, and he shoved her into a deep shadow. They paused for a moment to catch their breath.
Across the field a barrage of gunfire exploded. She vaguely made out the flashes, and she definitely heard the fire.
“Cavalry’s here,” Gray breathed. “Those shots are coming from outside the fence.”
“Thank God. Maybe we stand a chance after all.”
“Grab my belt, Sam, and no matter what happens, don’t let go.”
With every step, her fear diminished and her disbelief grew that they’d actually made it out of that barn alive. And gradually, something else dawned on her. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she grumbled.
“Having you totally dependent on me for a change? You bet.”
She scowled as he led her slowly through the woods. His night-vision goggles had been blown off in the blast, and they were stuck with his entirely normal eyeballs. After the flash of the explosion, he probably couldn’t see a darned thing out here, either. Of course, the good news was that Proctor’s men wouldn’t be in much better shape.
She murmured, “If we’re lucky, a bunch of Proctor’s men were looking at the barn through night-vision gear when it blew. They won’t be able to see a thing for hours.”
“Speaking of which, how are your eyes?” Gray asked soberly.
“I don’t know. I can make out shapes, but that’s it. I think I injured my retinas pretty badly in the blast.”
They eased through the woods for a while longer in silence. It was Gray who broke the quiet that had settled around them. “I don’t care if you’re completely blind when this is all said and done. I’ll be there to take care of you.”
She opened her mouth to give him her usual refrain, but he laid a silencing finger across her lips. “I know, Sam. You can take care of yourself. But I want to be there for you. Will you let me?”
What was he saying? Did he merely mean he’d see her through her injury, or did he mean more? He certainly sounded like he was implying more than a short-term deal. “Do you have any idea how badly I wish I could see you right now?” she groused.
“I told you the day would come when you couldn’t rely on your eyes.”
She didn’t need her eyes to detect the note of humor in his voice. “This isn’t funny! I can’t see you right now, and I want to know exactly what you mean.”
“Listen with your heart, then.”
The words froze her in place. She tugged on his belt until he turned to face her fully. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I don’t know,” he replied, low. “What do you think I’m saying?”
“Don’t you dare play head games with me. Not now.”
He backed her up against a tree and followed her wit
h his big, warm, safe body. “Use your other senses for a change, Sam. What does this feel like?”
His head bent toward her and his lips brushed against hers. His hands slipped behind her back and gently pulled her close to him. And it didn’t take eagle eyes to feel his heart galloping in his chest.
“What does this feel like to you?” he whispered against her throat.
“Like, uhh, you want sex?”
He laughed quietly. “What else?”
Lord, his mouth was distracting, moving across her skin like that. “Like, umm, you, umm, like me?”
“And?”
“You’ve lost your mind to be making out with me in the woods when bad guys might be out here trying to kill us?”
“The cavalry has Proctor and his boys handled. That secondary explosion was the tunnel collapsing, and we’ve got all the evidence we need on those flash drives of yours to track down whoever’s been buying Echelon-free phone calls from Proctor. If anyone survives the gunfight back there, they’ll go to jail for a very long time.”
For the first time since they’d slipped onto Proctor’s property, she actually relaxed. And that was when the shaking set in. Her knees started knocking together first, and before long, her entire body got into the act. Gray wrapped her in his arms and held her tightly in silent understanding.
Finally, she raised her head from his shoulder. Those looked like major branches coming out of the fuzzy blob of a tree trunk. If she wasn’t mistaken, she was making out a few more details around her. Abject relief that her eyes would recover—at least partially—from the blast washed over her.
It dawned on her belatedly that Gray wasn’t suffering the sort of aftershock that she was. At all. She demanded indignantly, “How come you’re not freaking out and shaking like me?”
“I’ve been through worse.”
And she supposed he had. She spoke quietly. “I heard the audio tape of your 9-1-1 call.”
He didn’t respond. And she supposed he didn’t have to. That call spoke for itself.
