Chapter 13 - The Fire Below
The sniper round left a glowing, smoking hole in the vinyl ceiling. Mark dove forward into the tent, dragging Marcus down with him as a second round ripped through the fabric, shattering the glass IV bottle hanging above Leo's head.
Leo cried out—a tiny, terrified whimper that tore straight through Mark’s chest. The boy was shivering violently, his skin gray, blue veins mapping clearly across his pale eyelids. The gauze over his ribs was soaked through with fresh, dark blood.
"Get him onto the floor!" Mark commanded, scrambling across the floorboards to the boy's side. He gathered Leo into his arms, using his own Kevlar-clad torso to shield the child from the incoming rounds punching through the tent.
"He's crashing!" Marcus yelled, crawling toward the metal supply crate. He kicked Aris away with a heavy boot as the wounded executive groveled on the floor, clutching his bleeding shoulder. "The casing broke! He's going into anaphylactic shock!"
"Where's the counter-agent?" Mark demanded, his fingers checking the pulse at Leo's neck. It was racing—too fast to count, a flutter like a trapped hummingbird.
"In the silver case!" Marcus pointed a bleeding finger at the briefcase Aris had dropped near the rear flap. "The ampoule is in the lid compartment. But if I stand up, that thermal scope will take my head off!"
Mark looked at Leo. The boy’s hazel eyes cracked open slightly. Through the haze of venom and pain, Leo recognized Mark’s face. His tiny, bruised hand reached up, weakly grasping the tactical badge pinned to Mark’s chest.
"Uncle... Mark?" the boy whispered.
The word hit Mark like an electric shock. Elena had told him. She had shown him pictures. She had told him who to look for.
A third round sheared through the metal cot above them, spraying sparks.
"Rex!" Mark bellowed, his voice carrying over the wind. "Tower! Go!"
Outside, the German Shepherd broke off from the downed guard, wheeling around toward the rusted access ladder that climbed sixty feet up the side of the concrete control tower. Rex didn't need a ladder; he hit the open maintenance stairs at a dead sprint, three steps at a time, disappearing into the dark structure.
From the top of the tower, thirty seconds later, a sharp scream echoed across the tarmac, followed by the clatter of a heavy sniper rifle tumbling over the railing to smash into the concrete below.
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The laser dot went dark.
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