Overcome with panic, Snapshot charged along the side wall, his frantic steps kicking up dust as he raced to reach Shrapnel's body. Just moments earlier, he'd been monitoring his teammate from the tower through his gun's scope, keeping an eye on his back while he prepped the last of the F-bombs. That's when Snapshot saw a large shadow fall over his friend.
Lifting his scope, he sucked in a breath at the sight of a massive, demonic creature that dove at his friend. It howled an eerie, sinister roar, and he could have sworn it resembled Charlie, albeit in a much more grotesque form.
The thing knocked Shrapnel down and twisted its body in such a way that Snapshot couldn't risk firing from his position, or he might hit the wrong target. Rolling to his feet, he grabbed the ladder's rungs and slid quickly to the ground. Fear swallowed him up as he realized he'd never make it in time.
A brief struggle took place before the demon opened its maw and lunged at Shrapnel, its wings wrapping around him, silencing his scream.
"NO!" Snapshot screamed, catching the demon's attention.
Racing along the wall, he drew his sidearm, aimed at the creature's head, and emptied the magazine, but his warning gave the demon enough time to launch into the air. With a deadly glare of rage, it pumped its leathery wings, flew upward, and quickly vanished over the building's roof.
Snapshot hoped he had driven it away for good as he quickly closed the remaining distance, dropping to his knees beside Shrapnel. He braced himself, expecting to see mangled flesh torn apart, but was shocked by what he saw instead: a tranquilizer dart lodged in the side of his friend's neck. Pressing his ear against Shrapnel's chest, he let out a joyful cry—he heard a heart beating steadily.
Sighing with relief, he pulled Shrapnel into his lap and sat back on his haunches. After doing a quick check for injuries, he saw his friend's pant leg was torn with blood staining the sandy ground. Carefully peeling off the shredded fabric, Snapshot took a small medkit from one of his pockets and quickly wrapped the wound. Once finished, he looked around for a safe place to hide Shrapnel and spotted a group of Jeeps.
After carefully getting to his feet and picking up Shrapnel, he ran to the back of the nearest vehicle, lifted the tailgate, and set his friend gently inside.
"Don't worry, buddy, you'll be safe here." Snapshot whispered before closing the hatch.
He hurried back to the scene of the crime, examined the ground, and saw that the detonator was lying just a few feet away. Casting his eyes up toward the roof, he scanned along the parapet, looking for movement. Thankfully, whatever it was hadn't returned to finish the job. He thought again about how its form and movement resembled Charlie's, and knew if Bible had successfully captured her, the mission was in danger of failing.
But it would definitely fail if he didn't focus on the immediate task, which was finishing Shrapnel's part of the plan. After years of playful banter, constantly dealing with his friend's quirky inventions, and basic training in explosives, he knew how to check and make sure everything was placed correctly and ready.
Carefully, he examined the bombs' placements, ensured all the connections were complete, and now the only thing left to do was radio the others that they were set. Flicking his comm, he spoke with forced confidence. "Brute? Panther? Explosives are in place. We're ready to proceed!"
Brute's whispered voice came through. "Ready with the final distraction?"
"Yup! Just say the word!" Snapshot's voice quavered.
"Is everything okay out there?" Panther caught the tremor.
He paused. He didn't want to tell them about Shrapnel or give them more to worry about, but they needed to know the danger they were in. "Look, stay frosty, both of you. One of that fucker's demons is loose somewhere in the compound."
The radio was silent for a moment, then Panther's irritated voice came through. "Was it Charlie?"
Taking a deep breath, Snapshot blew out. "I think so."
He heard her curse, but Brute spoke up. "We can't worry about that now. We get the kids out, and just hope to God Cassie and Angel make it, too."
"I knew she was tro—" The line went silent.
Snapshot grimaced. He understood Panther's anger. She hadn't trusted the plan from the start, and he shared her concerns about Charlie. But they had a mission to finish, and he would do his part without hesitation, hoping beyond hope that they'd also get Angel and Cassie out of there.
A moment later, Brute's static voice came back. "Hold for orders."
"Copy." Bracing himself, Snapshot waited.
Outside the cell room, Panther tensed as she heard the children's cries under the snap of the soldiers' orders. Whispering into her radio, she pressed Brute. "What do we do?"
Behind the door on the other side of the room, he shook his head and answered in a shaky voice. "I don't know."
She frowned with concern. Brute was never indecisive. Aside from Angel, he was their best tactician, the rock of the group. Sure, solid, and always ready with a plan. She said so: "Brute, come on! This isn't like you! You always know what to do. What's wrong?"
In her earpiece, she heard him swallow hard, his response filled with fear and hesitation. "I killed those kids, too, Lisa. I can't let it happen again."
"Francis." Panther softened her voice to calm him. "Tag tricked you and Angel last time. This time, we know what's at stake. Think! What do we do?"
Before he could reply, Snapshot's voice broke in. "Brute. Panther. We're ready."
Brute's voice firmed up, as if the news sparked an idea. "Ready with the final distraction?"
"Yup! Just say the word!" Snapshot's voice quavered.
Panther caught the tremor in his tone. "Is everything okay out there?"
They noted a long pause, then: "Look, stay frosty, both of you. One of that fucker's demons is somewhere in the compound."
Panther tensed, her voice thickened with irritation. "Was it Charlie?"
They heard Snapshot take a deep breath. "I think so."
Panther cursed, but Brute spoke up, the earlier tentative tone gone, replaced by a warrior's confidence. "We can't worry about that now. We get the kids out, and just hope to God Cassie and Angel make it, too."
"I knew she was tro—"
Brute switched frequencies to speak to her directly, cutting her off through her earpiece. "Stow it, soldier, we deal with the here and now, that's an order."
Panther squared her shoulders. They'd have to deal with Charlie later. "Yes, sir."
Brute switched back to the main com for all of them to hear. "Hold for orders."
Closing comms, Brute scratched his chin while scanning his surroundings—the door, the soldiers inside—and an idea started to form. Within seconds, he visualized the sequence of events unfolding in his mind, his lips tightening into a thin, grim smile. It might work. No. It would work!
Switching the comms back on, he outlined the plan. "We need to thin the herd. I'm going to get their attention. Lure a few of them my way. Snapshot, when I say so, set off the charges. Panther, gear up your night vision goggles—when you hear the explosion, I want you to snipe out the lights in the room."
"And what are you going to do?" Panther questioned, though she anticipated his response.
"Break some bones." Brute spoke slowly with a hint of eagerness.
"I don't like it." Panther scowled. "It's risky."
Brute growled, frustration seeping back into his voice. "Give me a better idea, then!"
"I don't have one." She sighed, lost for any alternatives.
"Then we're doing this!" Brute snapped. Taking a deep breath, he steeled his nerves. "Listen, just keep your fire suppressed either at the lights or any sentries that reach your position. I'll take care of any stragglers."
"Brute." Panther chilled at his tone. "Don't do anything crazy."
"I promise you." Brute responded firmly. "We're all leaving here alive."
"I'm holding you to that," she returned with a gentler tone. "Let's do it."
With a silent nod more to himself than her, Brute stepped out of his hiding spot and moved up to the edge of the door just out of sight. Bracing himself for action, he whispered into his comm. "Snapshot. Count to three, then detonate."
"Good luck." Snapshot whispered back, followed by, "One…"
Listening to the count, Panther approached her door and paused. Just as she settled in, loud thumps sounded from the far end of the room, followed by shouts from the men and a flurry of activity. Almost simultaneously, she felt the vibrations of explosions that shook the walls and floor.
Following Brute's instructions, Panther slipped into the archway and quickly extinguished the lights, then immediately ducked back out of sight. She winced and felt a sharp pang of sympathy for the frightened children as they screamed amid all the chaos and noise from the gunfire.
Dropping to her stomach, she crawled toward the edge of the door and peeked around the corner. Through her night-vision goggles, she saw some men running toward her. With ease, she clipped each one in the head and dropped them like rag dolls.
Across from her, Brute charged forward, his goggles giving him a sharp advantage over his targets. He seized each one swiftly and viciously snapped their necks. Panther was both awed and a little frightened by the violence he displayed, though she understood very well that it was a cathartic moment for her friend.
It took no more than thirty seconds for most of the movement and screaming in the room to stop, except for the children's cries and sniffles. Just then, the emergency lights in the room flashed on. Brute, about to reach the cages, stopped abruptly and cursed under his breath.
Patch, still standing, had his rifle trained squarely on Curly-Hair inside the cage. "Don't fucking move!"
"Let the kids go!" Panther shouted from the opposite doorway.
Startled, Patch swung his weapon her way and fired off a round that hit the wall above the door, causing her to duck down. "I said, don't move!"
Panther glared at him but held her hands up in compliance.
Patch turned and backed toward the cage to keep his eyes on both intruders, then reached for his earpiece to call for backup. Before he could radio anyone, Curly-Hair grabbed his collar from behind and yanked him hard against the metal bars. His head smacked hard enough to knock him silly, and he groaned. Again, she jerked him back against the bars, and this time the impact cracked his skull and he sank to the floor, unconscious.
Brute lifted his goggles off and mused. "Wow."
"That's for my cheek, asshole!" Curly-Hair spat on Patch through the bars, then looked at Brute and groused. "Don't just stand there gawking! Get us the fuck out of here!"
"Yes, ma'am!" He approached the cage door and looked around. "Who had the key?"
Curly-Hair pointed to Patch. "Left front pocket."
He searched the unconscious man and fished out a ring of fifteen keys. "Well, shit, I don't have time for this."
Dropping the key ring, he sized up the door. Slipping his hands around the bars, he yanked with all his strength, and the sound of bending metal filled the room. Curly-Hair whistled with admiration as the hinges broke and the door came off in his hands.
Brute turned and dropped it right on top of Patch, who grunted.
Curly-Hair turned and waved the children forward. "Come on, it's safe!"
The kids started to file out to join her. As she hurried them along, Brute went to the other cage and released the remaining children. Exiting the cage, all the kids looked at him with awe and wonder, as if he were some sort of superhero. Seeing their faces, Brute made a show of dusting his hands off in response.
Panther shook her head as he came back around to join the group. "Show off." She smirked at him.
"I needed that."
Panther nodded in understanding and stepped close to whisper. "We have to hurry. If Charlie—"
"I know." Brute whispered back, tersely, then quickly softened his tone. "They knew the risks. Push it down, the kids are all that matter now."
Panther, usually tough and stoic, felt her eyes glisten as her hard shell cracked. Swallowing hard, she gave him a nod, then moved toward the kids and barked orders. "Okay, I want everyone to line up along the wall by the door. Single file."
The kids hesitated, looking at Curly-Hair instead, waiting for her guidance.
Following their eyes, Panther addressed the older girl. "Hey."
Curly-Hair looked up at her, eyes narrowed. "What?"
Panther gestured at the kids. "They trust you?"
"Yes." Curly-Hair nodded curtly.
Panther pointed to the door. "Good. You're their guard. Have them line up by the door. Then follow me and lead them outside to the rendezvous point."
The young woman gave Panther a quick look, assessing her, then shifted her focus to Brute. Her eyes settled on his waist as she examined his holster. "Give me your gun," she demanded.
Brute, who was checking Patch's rifle, stopped short. He locked eyes with her. "What?"
"Your Sig P320." Sighing, she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You're gonna expect me to lead, then give me a weapon. I'm not going out there unarmed, and I'm not letting those bastards near the kids again!"
Brute studied her for a moment, shrugged, and pulled the gun from his holster. "You know how to use this?"
"Yeah. My brother taught me street smarts, weapons, and how to handle myself against fuck-shits like these!" She took the gun, released the mag, inspected the ammo, and slapped the mag back in firmly.
Brute looked down at Patch and mused with an impressed smile. "You certainly can." Looking up with a grin, he asked. "What's your name, kid?"
As she waved the kids into a tight single-file line by the door, she leaned down and kissed the blonde girl's forehead, whispering, "Everything's going to be okay, now."
The little girl looked up and gave her a brave smile. "I know."
Curly-Hair returned her smile with a brave one of her own. Then, she straightened up, her lips hardening into a firm, straight line, and she fixed her sharp gaze on Brute. In a clear, no-nonsense tone, she answered: "Molly."
Adjusting the rifle on his shoulder, Brute grinned at her. "Okay then, Molly. Follow Panther, and let's get the fuck out of here!"