Page 13 of Trigger Discipline

Blake clenched his jaw and tried the radio again.

“Do you think it’s just here?” Tommy asked, clearly as deep in his thoughts as Blake was. “Or is it…everywhere?”

“I’ve been next to you the whole time,” Blake snapped as he got no response from the radio. “I know just as much as you.”

Tommy acted like he’d punched him, and he felt bad. He opened his mouth to say some kind of platitude neither one of them would believe, but then they heard popping.

Blake lowered the window just as they turned the corner to an intersection. Several cars were tossed around, including a police cruiser and a motorcycle. Their drivers, nowhere to be seen.

The popping returned in bursts.

“Gunshots,” they said at the same time.

Tommy stopped the truck and Blake climbed out, using the open window to scramble onto the roof of the ambulance, ignoring the throbbing in his ribs and back. Shading his eyes with his hand, he looked over the courtyard of a surprisingly intact motel.

A group of soldiers were pinned down. One of those ugly four-legged monsters was approaching them, but behind it was something bigger. Blake didn’t think anything could be scarier than the thing that attacked him, but he was wrong.

He couldn’t see how many soldiers there were, but it didn’t sound like a lot. There was some yelling and a lot of gunfire. One of them was dragging another, popping off rounds one-handedly. A third was calling, darting to the left to try and get the thing’s attention off his fallen comrade. He was firing as he ran, head down.

Blake didn’t know much about soldiers—but these didn’t look like the ones he’d seen in movies. Where the hell were their tanks and shit? And these soldiers were dressed all in black.

Still, they were going to die. They were taking cover where they could, but the two creatures were pushing them toward a blazing fire. Slowly, almost like they were toying with them.

“Oh no,” Tommy muttered from below Blake.

Blake watched the lone soldier narrowly miss a shot. He dove forward, rolling until he struck a hydrant with hisshoulder. Dragging himself up, his legs wobbled as he tried to put distance between the things and his fellow soldiers. Blake thought he could almost see the flash of teeth as he grimaced.

“We have to help them,” he said, surprising himself.

Tommy looked up at him with big eyes. “How?”

Blake glanced around, his gaze landing on something in the intersection. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Is it a good one?” Tommy asked as Blake climbed down, landing lightly. He followed Blake with his eyes.

“We’ll find out.”

Tommy groaned.

CHAPTER 6

OXYGEN THIEF

Blood pooled around his boots. The rubber sole squeaked as he twisted, gun trained on the alien tracking him. Gabriel wasn’t sure who the blood was from, but he suspected it was Judd’s injured arm. He squeezed off a burst; it slammed into the broad triangular head. The dog-like alien shook. It didn’t seem to be as impervious to their bullets as the bigger ones.

Not that it was doing much good.

The alien’s haunches bunched as it prepared to jump. Gabriel knew it was faster than him and could jump farther. But it was unwieldy, incapable of sudden changes of direction. Lowering his gun, he crouched onto the balls of his feet. Sweat dripped into his eyes as he watched the alien, waiting for the right moment.

It launched. Gabriel dove forward, rolling on his bad shoulder. But he couldn’t catch himself and ended up sprawled in the street. Gritting his teeth, he pulled his knees under him and tried to get up.

Pain spiked through his shoulder, and it was only the constant thrum of adrenaline that kept him from doubling over.

The dog alien skidded into a motel pool, splashing into the water with a surprised whistle. It seemed to struggle against the cement walls, large, clawed legs scrambling to get out of the water. Cement crumbled under its feet, cracks seeping into the pool, sending waves of water onto the street, spreading all the way to the bigger alien on the other side.

Gabriel heaved a shuddering breath, looking over his shoulder to see Phin crouched over Judd, firing at the bipedal. His gun spat out five more rounds before clicking uselessly.

He grunted as he dropped the gun, pulling his .45 from the holster. Phin was more careful with this gun, settling his aim before popping off rounds. The bipedal alien didn’t seem bothered by the handgun any more than it had been by the big machine gun.