Jason scooted back on his butt. “What the hell?”
Gray helped him stand.
“Thanks. I can manage on—”
Pain lanced through him, so agonizing he couldn’t find the breath to scream. He opened his mouth. Then the fire spread throughout his body. He collapsed into Gray’s arms. His limbs tremored uncontrollably. His breathing gasped in convulsive gulps, then he lost all strength.
He waited to black out, prayed to do so.
But the fire remained, just no control.
He felt his body being lifted. Through unblinking eyes, he watched Gray rush him down the corridor. He heard Harper, but her words were a panicked jumble of medical jargon.
“...hemotoxin... neurotoxin... paralytic...”
Elle added her own assessment, one even worse. “Infected...”
Then they were back in the chamber with the mudpot. Before Gray could head toward the main tunnel, loud blasts echoed.
Jason recognized that unique concussion.
Seichan confirmed it. “Grenades.”
“We’re under attack.” Gray shoved Jason into another’s arm. “Omryn, guard over everyone. Keep them here. Harper, Elle, Anna. See what you can do to stabilize Jason.”
With his head lolled crookedly, Jason watched Gray and Seichan race away.
Through the agony, he screamed, if only in his skull.
I’m still here...
48
May 14, 5:28P.M. ANAT
East Siberian Sea
Tucker lay on his stomach on the second floor of a stone home. He had the butt of his AK-12 rifle at his shoulder, his cheek on its stock, and one eye peering through his weapon’s holographic sight with magnifier.
From his sniper’s perch, he watched a long line of lights bobbling down the arc of steps. He counted eighteen to twenty in that company. The exact number was hard to determine as shadows danced, but one thing was certain.
Way too many.
He needed to cull that herd.
Earlier, shortly after he heard the scream of a jet engine echoing down from above, a firefight had broken out topside, too. Grenades had exploded. Automatic weapons had rattled. Fearing the worst, Tucker had retreated with Kane and Marco into the labyrinth of homes. As he did, a new noise intruded. The rumbling roar of small engines, echoing hollowly, traveling along the ice chute. This was confirmed by a cascading fall of loose ice over the edge above, then lights had bloomed up there.
With that, he had quickly sought this higher roost among the homes.
Through his scope, he noted the familiar Arctic camo and body armor worn by most of the strike team heading down here.
Russians for sure.
Not that he had any doubt.
He scowled, knowing he could not let that group look too closely at the frozen waterfall—and what lay hidden behind it. To that end, he picked a target, zoomed his scope, and squeezed his rifle’s trigger.
The sharp bang stung his ear, but he remained focused. A figure crumpled from the headshot. He shifted to the next in line, but lights blinked out, nearly in unison. A few lingered, then snapped off. In the last afterglow, he caught the barest glimpse of shapes leaping off steps or rushing headlong and heedless down them.
