Fireteam Delta by J. Halpin (popular novels .TXT) 📗

“Nos,” Asle corrected again.

“Sure, whatever.”

Asle sighed. “He wanted to know how to say, ‘how are you doing?’ In case he saw the pretty girl again.”

Adams flushed, but didn’t deny Asle’s assessment.

“Well, she’s Synel’s friend, right? We might.”

“Every goddamn time,” Summers muttered.

Nowak covered his face with his hand.

“Look, Synel was planning on heading out in the morning. We’ll vote then. Summers, Adams—sorry, but I think you guys are gonna have to pull double shifts on guard duty. Think you can last the night?”

Summers sighed. The prospect of having a day off was making the caravan a more and more attractive offer.

“Sure thing, Sarge.”

Nowak smiled in response.

As they headed off, Summers thought there might have been more guards on the wall than usual.

Then again, it could have been his imagination.

Chapter 11: A Long Night

Summers checked his gun. Their watch had been much like every other night: quiet, save for the sound of Tank chewing in the corner.

Adams was leaning on the warehouse door when his head turned toward some unseen noise.

“Hey, Summers, you hear that?”

Summers stopped to listen. After a moment, he could hear footsteps approaching through the snow.

A lot of footsteps.

“It’s too early for shift change, right?” Adams asked nervously.

“If that’s you, then speak up!” Summers called.

The footsteps stopped. There wasn’t any reply.

Summers chambered a round.

“Safety off. Watch my back.”

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Summers stepped out into the road that led from their warehouse. He raised his gun almost instantaneously as four guards came to a stop.

“Shit, just guards.”

His relief didn’t last long. The elf in the lead recovered first, saying something in his own language. The group started to fan out around Summers and Adams, forming a semi-circle around them.

“Adams, back up.”

The two put their backs to the warehouse itself. The guards were shouting, but for all the time he’d spent with Asle, Summers still couldn’t piece it together.

Then the first guard thrust a spear at his chest.

“Shit!”

Summers fell backwards, out of the reach of the thrust, just as he saw another guard to his left step forward. He angled his gun and fired a burst into the man’s armored chest.

The man crumpled to a heap on the ground. The first guard’s eyes went wide as Summers heard more shots coming from behind. Adams had at least gotten the message. He rolled to a knee and fired into the guard’s head. As he looked beside him, he could already see the other two guards were nothing but smears against the snow.

“Fuck!”

Summers spun just as Adams went down, gripping an arrow in his neck.

On the wall, a guard with a bow was readying another shot. Summers raised his gun and fired, cutting the archer down before he had the chance.

“Adams, can you move?” Summers checked the area. They looked to be alone, but he didn’t expect that to last long.

“Shit. Shit! Yeah.” Adams grabbed at his neck.

“Hold still.”

Summers snapped the arrow off near the head.

“Get in the wagon. We need to go.”

“What?”

“We just killed a shitload of guards. We need to leave, now.”

Adams managed to climb into the wagon with some help. He was bleeding badly. Summers could only hope the archer had missed the artery.

He pulled up a towel from the back and shoved it into Adam’s hands.

“Keep pressure on it. We’re going to get the others.”

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Summers snapped at the reins of Tank’s bridle. Adams groaned in the back. The streets of the city were all but abandoned this early in the morning, but still the damn thing wouldn’t move faster than its usual brisk walk.

“God damn it, move!”

He could feel the cool anger simmering in the back of his head. What the fuck were those guards trying to do? Rob them? They’d seen Nowak and the others spending money in town. With just two of them watching the wagon, they might have looked like an easy mark. Hell, they nearly were.

“Come the fuck on!” Summers briefly considered kicking the damn thing, but he doubted it would do them any good. He needed to calm down.

“Summers!” Nowak called out.

He could see the man in the distance, up the street. Cortez, Logan, and Asle were with him.

“We heard shots. What’s going on?” Logan looked at the wagon. “Where’s Adams?”

“In the back. He’s hurt. I’ll explain on the way.” Summers hopped down and let Logan take the reins.

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“I’m fine,” Adams mumbled.

Adams was, by everyone’s estimate, not fine. His face was getting paler by the second.

Summers checked the wound. He was losing blood at a worrying rate.

“Sarge, I think we need to take it out. We can’t bandage him like this.” Summers moved to Adams’ side. He said something, but it was too quiet for Summers to make out over the sound of the wagon moving.

“I’ll handle it.” Nowak looked at the wound. “He needs blood. Get the kit and hook yourself up while I work.”

“Right.” Summers mentally kicked himself. That should have been his first move.

He quickly found the red box that was their first aid kit and plunged an IV into his arm. He missed the vein three times before he got lucky and blood started to flood into a plastic pouch at his side. It was one they’d recycled after Logan’s injury, and then sterilized.  Probably not ideal, but it was what they had to work with.

As he waited, he saw Nowak take hold of the arrow’s broken shaft and pull in one quick, precise motion. His other hand immediately clamped down on the wound with a tight grip.

Already, the bag was nearly half full.

“Guys, we have visitors!” Logan called back.

Summers poked his head outside. The north gate looked to be