8
Marley’s fingers went numb. The pistol seemed to weigh a hundred pounds.
She’d shot him. She killed another human being. The gun clattered to the earth and she stared at it with a growing wave of horror that seemed to send her stomach up her throat. She swallowed convulsively, but it didn’t matter, she couldn’t stop staring at the man’s corpse.
He’d fallen in a twisted heap, face turned away from her so that all she could see was the single bullet wound she’d planted in his skull. There was a growing pool of blood seeping onto the ground, spreading evil-looking tentacles into the dips and valleys on the ground.
“Get down!”
Something flew past her face, her hair whisked past her ear, and then Mack threw her beneath him once more. Something like concern flashed momentarily through his gray eyes. Then he was up on his knees, straddling her waist with his gun raised. He fired off several shots in quick succession, the sharp report of gunfire a few feet from her head piercing her eardrums. She jerked and dug her fingers into the squishy dirt, attempting to ground herself.
No matter how much she fought it, she couldn’t help but search for the dead man. From this new angle, his face was turned directly toward her, dead black eyes wide open with shock. Her stomach revolted and she scrambled onto her side, pulling herself as far away from Mack as she could to throw up.
She fell back, exhausted. She’d done simulations, training, and she practiced weekly with her weapon—but until now she’d never killed a human being. Was there anything else she could have done? Surely she could have stopped him another way . . .
“We’ve got to move. There are more coming.” Mack yanked her to her feet, not giving her time to analyze the situation.
A loud roar penetrated her awareness, a motor growing closer and closer.
She tried to get her feet to move, she really did, but it was like the sticky ground had sucked her down and locked her in place.
Mack’s savage expression filled her vision, mere inches from hers. “Snap out of it, Mitchell. We can’t take on the whole damn Army.”
A loud bang sounded in the distance, followed by a sharp line of something whistling through the air. There was another loud bang and an explosion, and they were both thrown to the ground by a blast of hot air. She landed on her back, the breath knocked from her lungs, and found herself staring up at the green canopy of leaves overhead, dancing and leaping, fire reflecting off their waxy surface.
Gunfire erupted again, growing closer.
There were more coming. More guerrillas. The man had put a gun to Mack’s head. That’s why she’d shot him.
Suddenly she heard every minute sound around her. The engine roar grew louder, the gunfire continued to rattle off. Mack’s heavy breathing a few feet away. Marley managed to turn her head, fighting past the stiff muscles in her neck to see him lying there with his eyes shut, breathing hard.
“Mack?” Her voice came out like a croak.
The approaching sounds continued to get louder and louder.
Marley cleared her throat again. “Mack, are you okay?”
He nodded and then winced, as if that small movement had caused him intense pain. Concentrating on all her body parts, Marley forced herself up onto an elbow. There was blood seeping from one of his ears and the corner of his mouth. He’d been standing kind of in front of her and must’ve taken the brunt of the blast. She reached for him, gently wiping the trail of blood from his mouth with her thumb. “Can you walk? We need to find cover.”
Again with the nod. Marley crawled up to him on her knees, making sure to keep her head below the break and undergrowth that had shielded their position. Mack peeled his eyes open, rolled onto his stomach, and got up on all fours. She couldn’t resist putting her arm around his, trying to help him to his feet. Just like she couldn’t help but notice his biceps beneath the dirty material of his shirt. He stood steadily, swayed once, and then straightened up. “Hold on.”
Mack went down and she dove with him, trying to keep him from falling. They butted heads instead. Pain washed over her already throbbing skull and she grabbed her temples. Mack did the same, groaning. “What the hell?”
“I thought you were falling.”
“I was getting a gun.” His voice was about as friendly as a bear growl.
“Well, I was only trying to help.” Marley shoved up onto her feet, only to have Mack yank her right back down to her knees.
“Stay down. They’ve cut the engines. I can hear them coming this way.”
Her heart jammed up into her throat and her hand went for the sidearm at her waist. Her holster was empty. She had dropped her gun. Leaves and sticks and debris covered the ground around them from the blast. She had no hope of finding her weapon, her only means of self-defense.
Mack yanked the black AK-57 from the dead soldier. Jerking his head over his shoulder, Mack said, “Follow me. Stay low and stay quiet. If they find us, stay behind me.”
A fresh line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Marley resisted the urge to reach up and brush it away. He was giving off that whole wounded alpha male vibe, and as much as she wanted to soothe and comfort him, she didn’t want to lose her fingers.
“Right behind you.” She’d have to rely on him now, since he had the only weapon. At least he knew how to use it.
