Fireteam Delta J. Halpin (top 10 books of all time TXT) 📖

“Cortez, think you can handle the tree?” Nowak asked.

“Sure thing.”

Cortez hopped down and jogged lazily to the front. Summers saw her ready her rifle and level it on the large dead wood that had fallen in their path. Two men were trying to move it.

“Get out of the way, or you’re going to die!” Summers called over to them in Nos.

To his surprise, they understood, dropping their burden and running for cover.

Thump!

The grenade fired. Summers instinctively took cover as a resounding explosion rang out. He looked up just in time to see Cortez readying another shot. By the time his ears had stopped ringing, the wagon was moving again.

“Did you really need two shots?” Nowak shouted.

“No, I just saw a cluster of ’em coming out of the woods. Not a problem anymore.”

Summers looked behind them. The others were already following close behind. He didn’t see anyone on mounts, so there was a good chance they’d outrun the group. Whoever they were.

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“Well, they’re not from our world.” Nowak noted the spears that had been collected from the dead.

A few traders had rounded up the bodies of a few kills before they’d left, hoping to learn something about the group that had attacked them.

Summers swung down from the wagon they were riding. The caravan had decided to ride through most the night at a slow, but steady, pace. Whatever this new group was, it was clear they weren’t the same force described from the refugees’ village, so they had no idea what kind of numbers they were dealing with. It could be the rumored army’s main force, for all they knew.

Summers’ group had been lucky. Their only injury, unfortunately, was Beorn. He’d been grazed by an arrow sometime during the mayhem. It wasn’t serious, but he felt a little guilty that the kid had been hurt.

“So, that leaves our mystery men as either opportunists or some kind of ally to these guys,” Summers noted.

“No. It couldn’t have been a random attack, right? What would the army want with a town?”

“We got an elf kid in the back of our wagon who said we kidnapped her when we first met. You want to do the math on that?”

Nowak considered that as they walked.

“Either way, it means we’re looking for a small group embedded in a much, much larger and more aggressive one.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Got any suggestions?”

“Stay the course and find out more in the city.” Summers had to swerve to avoid some guards hustling to and from a few of the other wagons. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather meet these people on our own terms.”

“Fair enough.”

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That night, the others took up posts around the wagon. They weren’t taking any chances on being surprised; if that meant they had to lose some sleep, then that was fine by them.

To Summers’ disappointment, Beorn and his family had decided to camp a ways off from their group. He had no doubt they’d come running if there was trouble, but he didn’t like leaving them unprotected like that. Nowak figured all the gunfire had panicked them more than they’d realized, and from what he’d seen of their reaction afterward, Summers wouldn’t be surprised if they left for the city without them. At least this close, they stood a good chance of making it.

He saw Synel walking his way. She looked as tired as he felt, but thankfully unhurt. He’d tried to check on her after the attack, but the woman was busy handling the logistics of moving so many people at such an exhausting pace.

“Well, here we fucking go.” He tried to put on a fake smile before realizing that was a bad idea.

Would that be the elven equivalent of moving too fast? Screw it, the woman had been nothing but kind to him and his friends. She deserved at least a little consideration.

“How are you holding up?” Summers asked. It was one of the few stock phrases he’d learned.

“Poorly,” Synel replied simply.

“Is there anything . . . ?” Summers forgot the word. Instead, he pointed at himself and to her. “To help.”

He heard her exhale.

She considered him a moment. “No. Thank you, though.”

Bang!

A shot resounded through the camp. Summers froze. A scream of pain followed soon after, cutting through the cold night air. It was coming from the back of the wagon.

“Shit.”

Summers rushed over just as the others moved from their posts.

They found Asle—covered in blood, with Beorn at her feet.

He had a ragged hole torn in his chest. Summers didn’t have to look twice to know the boy had only a few seconds of life left.  It didn't make sense, though. He shouldn't be here, and Asle was asleep just a few minutes ago.

He could hear shouting, but his entire attention was on the girl with the gun in her hands.

Asle looked at him, tears brimming in her eyes, an expression of absolute terror on her normally placid face.

“I’m sorry . . .”

Chapter 18: Trail of Tears

Creeeak.

Asle climbed up into their wagon, the wood protesting as she moved to the back. She’d spent most of the night after the ambush trying to convince Beorn and Erne to stay, but Asle knew they wouldn’t. Worse, their parents wouldn’t hear her out. Even if they understood the danger of traveling on the road, alone, this was no place for kids. Adults may be able to outrun soldiers, but children couldn’t. Asle knew that well enough firsthand. They would still be safer with her and her friends, at least until the city. But they were convinced they could flee north.

She’d managed to sneak them a few rations with Mr. Nowak’s permission. Somehow, the illusion that she was going against her friends’ wishes put them at