“On my count,” Sam says, her voice heavy, carrying the weight of the danger that’s in front of her. In front of us. “In five, four, three, two, one.”
Their bodies rise from the grass. They dart to the side of the barn, their breaths heavier in my earpiece with each yard. I feel Luke shift with anxiety next to me but I don’t take my eyes off our guys. Their backs against the wall, Sam stretches out her arm, nods, and points to the back of the barn. Cooper crouches down, his weapons pointed in front of him. He steps quickly toward the back side of the barn. Laz and Sam point their weapons in the opposite direction, step over the guard’s dead body, and make their way to the front of the barn.
Please, God, please, God, I repeat over and over again in my head. I’m gripping the gun at my side so hard my hands are becoming cramped and sore. Please, God, please, God.
“On my count,” Sam whispers again in the earpiece. “Five, four, three, two, one.”
With that, all three swing around the sides of the barn and pull their triggers at the exact same time, the power from their shots forcing them back. I watch as the guard in Sam’s monitor falls to the ground. But just as I’m about to breathe a sigh of relief, the bright, pulsating flashes of a gun light up Cooper’s monitor. Pow. Pow. Pow.
“Shit,” Laz says in my ears, his normally calm voice now panicked. I watch Cooper’s camera bounce as he races around the back side of the barn, seeking refuge from the gunfire. He missed. He fucking missed.
Pow. Pow. Pow. Pow. Pow. More gunfire from the back of the barn. From Laz’s camera, I see lights turn on inside the house and within seconds I know every guard on this property will be sprinting toward the barn.
Without a word, I rise and grab my M4 off the ground.
“Reagan, wait,” Luke says, pulling himself up, but I’m already jumping off the bed of the truck and sprinting through the high grass.
“We’re going in,” Luke yells somewhere behind me as we sprint toward the barn.
“No, go back!” Cooper booms in my ear. “The mission is blown. We’re aborting. We have to get out of here or we’re all going to die.”
“I’m not leaving without them,” I scream into my ear, tightening my grip on my weapon.
“Go, go, go. They’ll be here any second,” Sam yells back and I don’t know if she means to go back to the truck or get to the barn. But it doesn’t matter. I’d be sprinting into the line of fire either way.
I run so fast, my feet feel like they’re not even touching the ground. Please, God. Please, God, I plead with each step. Please let us make it to the barn before the guards. I scan the grounds as I sprint. I see them. Their flashlights dot their positions in the distance, bobbing with every strike of their heel. We’re one hundred yards. Now seventy-five. Now fifty. Now twenty-five. Now ten. I reach the barn first and jump over the dead body that lies in front of the door. I yank at the heavy barn door. The curved metal of a lock pulls the door back.
“Damn it, it’s locked,” I say and pull the door again out of frustration.
“He’s probably got the key.” Luke kneels down at the dead guard’s feet. I look over my shoulder. The group of guards is only two hundred yards away.
“There’s no time,” I yell over the gunfire and screaming in my ear. Luke rises to his feet but I push his body out of the way. “Stand back.”
I point my pistol up at the lock and pull the trigger. Bang. It slices through the metal and the lock falls to the ground. I pull at the barn door again and it slides open.
“Go, go, go,” I yell to Luke and push him inside. He enters, his weapon stretched in front of him, and I walk into the darkness, pulling the barn door shut behind me.
“Do you think they saw us come in here?” Luke whispers to me, his breath heavy.
“I don’t know but let’s move,” I say, still trying to catch my own breath. Luke and I take another step into the barn, our weapons still in front of us. “Do you see them?”
“I can’t see anything,” Luke says and looks from left to right in the almost pitch-black barn. Dark shadows resembling hay and shovels and rakes are the only things we see.
“Mom, Dad?” I call out, my voice beginning to shake. What if they’re not here? What if they’re already dead? Panicked, I yell again, “Mom?!”
“Reagan?” I hear my father’s gravelly voice say from somewhere in the darkness. A lump lodges in my throat at the sound of his voice.
“Dad, where are you?” I ask, pushing back stacks of hay and sheets and garbage. As my eyes adjust to the black, Luke pulls out a flashlight the size of a pen.
“Back corner,” Dad says, his voice almost a whisper. I can barely hear him over the eruption of gunfire. The other armed guards have arrived.