Page 42 of The 9th Man

“We have to risk it.” He found his phone and used the maps app again. “If we get separated we’ll meet, here, in Burden. It’s not far. There’ll probably be a bus station. Stay off the roads and—”

“How about this, Ranger. Shut up with that nonsense, and we don’t get separated, we stay together.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good answer.”

“But if we somehow do get separated—”

“I’ve got it. Let’s go. You’re on point this time.”

He smiled. Once a marine, always a marine. “Hooah.”

They found their way out of the tunneled foliage. Then, in single file, picked their way west, following the undulating contours of the land and stopping every twenty paces to look and listen. Occasionally, they heard a burst of radio static in the distance as Persik’s men moved north. He hadn’t heard the helicopter for several minutes. They’d covered what he guessed was half the distance to Burden when the ground began sloping downward. Jillian, walking ten feet to his right, suddenly motioned for quiet and crouched down.

He did the same.

She signaled,Movement.

He followed her gaze and saw the faint profile of a man leaning against a tree, blocking their route. They must be closer to Burden than he realized. Persik had dispatched a sentry. He gestured that they should separate, pincer around the guy, and regroup on the other side.

She nodded and crept away.

He did the same, shifting left to gain distance between himself and the sentry. A rocky ridge halted his progress. It rose a few feet higher than he was tall and ran east-west, the outcrop covered in vines and lichen. Climbable but not quietly, so he turned west and began following the ridgeline down the ever-steepening slope.

Below he heard the fast gurgling of water.

A creek? River?

Suddenly, ten paces before him a figure hopped off the ledge and landed on his boots with a soft thump, an automatic rifle slung across his chest.

Luke froze.

The man faced away and hadn’t seen him, but that would last only a few seconds. He raised his pistol, then decided against it. The shot would draw everyone within half a mile. He adjusted his grip so the pistol could serve as a bludgeon.

And quickly advanced.

The man spun.

Change of plan.

Luke dropped the 9mm and rushed him. But even as they collided the man was stepping backward, lifting his weapon. The rifle fired, rounds whizzing off into the air, making lots of noise. Luke wrapped the guy in a bear hug, keeping the gun pointed up. The momentum of his impact sent them stumbling off the path, the man trying to stay on his feet, Luke trying to drive him to the ground. He slammed his forehead into the man’s nose. The guy grunted, stunned. He repeated the headbutt. The man’s legs buckled and together they tumbled down the steep slope, picking up speed as they bounced over tree roots and ricocheted off trunks.

Then he felt himself free-falling.

Through the air.

Huh?

With the other guy still in his grasp.

An electric jolt of cold jarred his senses as he hit water.

Hard.

Immediately, a strong current dragged them along a rock-strewn bottom. The man thrashed and clawed. Luke released him, switched his grip to the rifle, and twisted hard to reverse the barrel and shove it into the guy’s belly. His finger found the trigger. Though the shot was mostly muffled by the rush of the water, the man’s shocked expression told him the bullets had struck home.

Blood began to tint the water.