Page 14 of Delta Mission
Nothing but silence.
A faint glow emanated from a corner about twenty yards away. I peered around the pipes, staring at the radiance, trying to establish what it was, but I couldn’t see.
Keeping my flashlight off, I darted from the pipes to a collection of plastic drums that probably contained acetic anhydride and peered over the top.
Was that an exit?
I dashed to a collection of giant cooking pots that would likely be used to boil down the opium. The fact that they were cold convinced me that the lab wasn’t in production today. It would explain why nobody was down here.
Then again, the woman who killed Lyle had escaped down here.
So where did she go?
Inching up over the pots, I peered at the glow in the corner.
It was a tunnel.
I stared at it for a long time, debating whether or not I should investigate.
It was a bottleneck situation I was not ready to risk.
I’d been trapped in a bottleneck once before, and nearly died. I would never make that mistake again.
I squatted down, and inhaling a calming breath, I weighed up my options.
I had very few. First, though, I had to check if there were any other survivors.
Turning on my flashlight, I sprinted back to the rope ladder and climbed into the shelter.
Lyle’s body was bloody and gruesome. Fighting crippling sorrow, I edged around him, stopped beside the doorway, and peered out the exit.
The street looked like a war zone. The exploded Humvee was ruined, and chunks of its body and twisted scraps of metal hung off the carcass. The second one was charred black, and smoke still wafted from its hood and interior.
Trent’s lifeless body lay on the ground.
The kid had gone, thank goodness.
Gripping my weapon, I stepped outside onto dirt that was dotted with hundreds of hoofprints, confirming my interpretation of the sound. A stampede of horses had raced through here.
My heart sank. The third Hummer was gone.
Did Channing leave me?
“Son of a bitch!” I screamed until my throat burned.
A shout drifted to me, and I shot back inside the shelter.
Squeezing my gun in both hands, I braced to put a bullet into anyone who tried to kill me.
“Makenna. Is that you?”
My knees just about buckled at the sound of his voice.
I stepped back into the street. “Channing?”
“Yes, oh thank Christ. I’m over here.”
His voice echoed, and I searched the street for the source. “Where?”
