Chapter 7: The Crimson Timer
A sharp gasp escaped Jesse’s lips as the cold steel of the combat knife sank deep into his shoulder muscle. Dark blood instantly began to pool through the fabric of his blue denim jacket, staining the fleece collar a sickening shade of crimson.
Maya lunged forward, grabbing the operative by the tactical webbing of his vest and dragging him backward off Jesse before he could twist the blade. With a fierce grunt, she hurled the heavily armored man over the bending metal railing. He fell heavily onto the hood of Agent Williams' sedan below, shattering the windshield in an explosion of safety glass.
"Jesse!" Clara screamed, dropping the heavy duffel bag and scrambling on her knees across the blood-slicked concrete to his side.
Jesse pressed his right hand hard against the wound, his breathing shallow and rattling. His face had gone chalk-white under his dark stubble, but his eyes remained startlingly clear.
"Don't... worry about me," Jesse choked out, coughing up a fine mist of blood. "Look... at the bag. It's almost... zero."
Clara glanced frantically back toward the duffel bag. The digital timer was ticking down with terrifying speed: 00:12... 00:11... 00:10...
Down in the parking lot, Agent Williams was desperately reloading his service pistol behind his battered cruiser while the remaining tactical operative retreated toward the black SUV, firing blind bursts of cover fire that chewed up the motel's stucco siding.
"Maya! We need to move right now! Reinforcements are inbound from the interstate!" Williams screamed over the roar of the idling SUV engine.
Maya rushed over to Clara, grabbing her by the arms and trying to haul her up. "We have to go, Clara. He's stabilized, but if we stay here, we die in this corridor."
"I can't leave him!" Clara sobbed, her hands covered in Jesse's blood. "He saved my life!"
"If the data uploads, everything changes," Jesse whispered, his hand weakly gripping Clara's wrist. "Press... the... blue... button... inside... the... side... pocket..."
May you like
The timer flashed 00:03... 00:02... 00:01...
A deep, low-frequency hum vibrated through the concrete walkway, followed instantly by the simultaneous flashing of every exterior lightbulb along the entire second-floor motel wing blowing out in a shower of blinding blue sparks.
