A low voice echoed over the speaker. “Echo team, do you copy? Over.”
Zadie cranked down the volume, raising the handheld to her ear. “This is Echo team. Identify.”
Muffled sounds drifted up from the receiver next to Zadie’s ear, too quiet to make out.
Zadie pulled the unit away, held it out to Kane. “It’s someone claiming to be General Augustus Esposito. Said he needs to talk to you. That he’s got pivotal intel that’ll save our asses.” She snorted. “His words, Cap.”
Kane palmed the mic, dropped it when he tanked left before Wynn grabbed him, eased him against one of the shorings. He muttered under his breath before nodding at Zadie. “I know it’s a risk but put it on speaker.”
Zadie moved closer, dialed up the volume a bit, then hit the button. “I’ve got Captain Archer for you, General.”
More static, then a gruff voice whispering through the tinny speaker. “Now Kane, before you start asking for verification, all I’m gonna say is Dublin, the Fig and the Fiddle, and a redhead. We good?”
Kane coughed, spat out some blood before wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “You swore you’d take that story to the grave, Gus.”
“From the sounds of it, you’re not that far off. Now, I need you to listen, neither of us have much time. I know your training mission just turned lethal, and those men hunting you aren’t regular soldiers. I’ll explain everything later, assuming your team can get you out of there alive.”
Kane coughed, more blood dotting his fatigues. “Best damn unit I’ve ever worked with.”
“Let’s hope so because if these assholes get you cornered…” He cleared his throat. “If my intel’s correct, you’re balls deep in that old black sand mine. I need you to go to sub-level four. There’s a blasting locker with questionable ordinance still stored in some boxes. Rig whatever they left to blow. Make it look like the mountain came down on you, then use the rear air vent directly above that locker to get back to the surface. It’ll take you to the far side of the mountain. From there, procure a truck from a logging camp three klicks southeast. I’ll send you coordinates on this line in twenty minutes from when we disconnect. Don’t miss that call. They’ll take you to a cache outside Lytton. You’ll find the final instructions in a Pelican case hidden in a hollow log. If all goes well, I’ll see you at my bunker in the morning. Until then, evade and escape, no highways, and absolutely no contact. And if you do encounter more of those freaks, kill shots only. Anything else just pisses them off.” He paused, a ripple of static sounding through the chamber. “And Kane… Don’t get caught, and for god’s sake, don’t die.”
The line cut off, the small area falling into a numbing silence. Wynn edged closer, the zipper from her kit a harsh rasp in the dark.
Kane shook his head. “You’ve done all you can for me, Whitmore. Monroe took a hit. Treat her.”
Neve snorted. “It’s just a graze, and it can wait.” She kicked at the dirt, the general’s words playing over in her head. That this was so much more than a simple betrayal. “Sounds like we’ve got new orders.”
Kane chuckled. “That’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you, Monroe. Your ability to shift gears without losing a step. And yeah, the clock’s ticking, and the general won’t give us a second chance to receive those coordinates, so… let’s not be late.”
“Yes, sir.” Neve moved over to the gaping hole in the floor, wondering how far down the ladder went. If time and rust had compromised the integrity. If they’d get halfway to sub-level four, then just run out of metal.
Not that they had a choice.
She grabbed one side, grunted at the way the bolts rattled against the wood beam, the entire structure shifting beneath her grip. “Pretty sure this thing hasn’t held any weight for over forty years, but…”
Scout nudged her as she moved in close. “Betting you wish you’d stayed with Barrett’s unit, right about now.”
“And trade all this in for fame and glory? That’s crazy talk. Besides…” She glanced at her teammates, meeting each of their intent gazes. “His team’s got nothing on all of you. Though, I wouldn’t say no to an extra sniper of his caliber.” Neve swung her carbine across her back. “I’ll go first?—”
“Like hell, you will. You’re our overwatch.” Scout snagged one of the rungs and stepped down a few feet. “I’ll lead. Just, give me a few seconds to get down a level before you follow, in case…”
Neve hooked Scout’s arm. “No heroics. It’s bad enough we’re dragging Archer’s ass…” She grinned at his annoyed huff. “I don’t want to have to sling you over my shoulders, too.”
Scout nodded, took a breath, then inched down, pistol in one hand, flashlight beam illuminating the dark through the goggles. Neve waited until Scout had reached the next floor before waving Zadie ahead.
Archer went next, face ashen, skin slack, his hand visibly shaking as he grabbed the ladder, placed his feet on the rungs. He drew himself up, pure defiance reflected in his stance. “Stop looking at me with those bug eyes as if I’m going to drop dead, Monroe. And for the record, I’ve dragged my ass through miles of hostile territory hurt far worse than this, so…”
“Noted, sir.” Neve slipped his rifle off his shoulders. “I’ll hold on to it for the trip down.”
He merely grumbled a reply, vanishing below the surface, Wynn gripping that handle from above as she inched down with him. Blood smeared the beam where he’d been braced, more puddling in the dirt.
Neve checked the adjoining corridors, listening for a hint of movement before stepping onto the ladder. Soft clangs echoed from below, the occasional creak drifting up through the hole. She started down, the air thick with the scent of wet stone and rust. Noises bounced off the walls, each distant footfall sounding as if it was on top of them.
They descended through the mine, their IR beams brightening a circle of the adjoining floors. A few rats scurried across the tunnels, their eyes shining red in the low light. Above, a faint metallic click cut through the quiet, a constant reminder they weren’t alone. That it was only a matter of time before the other men found them.
Neve reached the third sub-level, watching the darkness above her as if it might spit men, her carbine sweeping the space, when two of the rungs gave way. She swung to one side, scrambling for a hold when she caught herself on a crossbeam, the creosote-stained wood biting into her palm. The rungs hit the bottom with a resounding thud, the sound punching through the darkness like a fist.
She took a few breaths, then repositioned herself on the ladder, sliding the last dozen feet using only the outside. Weathered symbols had been painted onto the supports, what looked like an exploding bomb pointing off to the right.
