Page 84 of Beyond Redemption

Thomas had moved, no longer where he’d been. I told myself if he’d been hurt, Taylor and Tyler would be crowded around him or dragging him away. Naomi and Iberra were also missing from their former positions, but Taylor, Tyler, and Zeke were still fighting the flames.

They’ve just moved, I assured myself.

I scanned left, then right, tracking movement along the line until I caught Thomas again farther forward than he’d been before the explosion, repositioning behind a reinforced barrier that had taken multiple hits and was beginning to fracture along the edge.

“You’re too exposed, damn it, fall back,” I hissed.

A round struck the barrier inches from his head, concrete chipping away in a violent spray. He didn’t pull back. He adjusted, fired, and moved again.

My next shots came faster. I picked a target advancing toward his position, dropping that merc bastard and three others nearhim before they could close the distance, then progressed to the next group, disrupting the angle long enough for Thomas to reposition.

“Move,” I said under my breath.

As if he could hear me, he rushed to a more defensible location, but I knew better than anyone he’d never leave his brothers while they were exposed and in the line of fire.

A figure broke from the smoke too close to our tower, rifle up, scanning through his sights for targets above. He wasn’t one of us, and he saw me a second too late. I released the grips of the .50 cal, shouldered my rifle, aimed, and took the shot, dropping him before he could line up his own.

“Look at you, sniper Barbie,” Kansas said. Her rifle remained trained on the same position, now without a threat to engage.

The radio at Kansas’s shoulder crackled to life. “North tower, elements are being pushed to your sector. Stand by for contact.”

“Copy that, Sta—” Kansas began.

Another heavy round hit the tower, lower this time. The structure shuddered.

“Shit!” Abby growled, hanging on to whatever she could. “We’re sitting ducks up here!”

I repositioned to keep the metal between me and the line of fire, adjusting my angle to maintain sight on the north approach without exposing myself more than necessary. I turned to check on Abby, and then Kansas, who’d used the railing to steady herself, her other hand still gripping the radio.

“You were a little late, Stan,” she grumbled into the radio, her jaw set as she leveled her rifle and aimed below.

Behind the militia’s inner fences, the flow toward the bunker had all but stopped, replaced by a steady stream of wounded being pulled back—soldiers dragged under the arms, slung over shoulders, boots scraping against the ground as they were hauled from the line. The air carried the constantcrack of gunfire mixed with the metallic tang of blood. Calls for medics rose and collided with voices issuing orders, names and movements cutting across one another as the injured were pushed inside as fast as they could be moved.

“Abby?” I called behind me. Her gaze met mine for a fraction of a second, then fell to the carnage below. “Get ready. You’re going to make that run soon. Just like we talked about, okay? Take the gun. Leave your bag. No matter what you see, you don’t stop. Don’t even slow down. Your only responsibility is to get to the bunker in one piece. Take Ellie down with you, and if anyone but us tries to get through the door, the two of you move everyone back to the tunnels.” I waited half a second. “Abby!” I yelled to get her attention. She looked back at me, only her eyes moving. “Run. Don’t stop. Ellie. Tunnels. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she said, holding tighter to my nine-millimeter. “Yes, I understand.”

“Get pissed, it’s easier than fear. Remember those Carlisi bitches taking out Jim in front of your children?”

Her expression morphed from terror to wrath.

“Good. There’s no safety on a Glock. Be careful when you secure it,” I directed, and she complied, placing it carefully into her waistband. “And heavy on thein one piecepart,” I added.

She breathed out a laugh, grateful for the distraction.

One vehicle breached the line and then two, forcing through a weakened section of fence, men spilling out behind them, using the frames as moving cover as they advanced. The compound answered with everything it had, rounds striking the vehicles in rapid succession, metal buckling, tires blowing out, the momentum carrying them deeper into the yard before the line could close.

“Abby! Now! We’ll cover you!” Kansas barked, sending her down the ladder.

Once she was safely on the ground, Kansas and I picked off any hostiles within thirty feet of her path as she ran. More than once, she flinched as rounds from my rifle snapped past her, each bullet dropping Carlisi men in her path, but she refused to break stride. Adrenaline carried her the rest of the way, and she cleared the distance to the bunker faster than I could’ve predicted. The shadow created by the bunker entrance swallowed her before I could confirm anything beyond that—Ellison and Bodhi were positioned there, but the angle cut them off from view. No movement followed her in, and that was enough for me to reach for my radio.

“TC? TC, it’s North Tower,” I said, waiting.

“Good copy, Tower,” Travis came back, gunfire layered behind his voice.

“Runner is in! I repeat, Runner is in!”

“Runner’s good?”