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

“At the end of the road.”

“Fuck it, it’ll do.” Cortez dumped the remains of the barrel into the pit with the others.

She took a grenade from her pocket, pulled the pin, and jammed it, handle and all, between two barrels.

Summers watched in a mixture of horror as the barrels rocked back and forth. If they were moved even an inch, that would be it for all of them.

Sometimes, Cortez really did scare him.

“Let’s move!” Nowak yelled. Summers snapped back to reality as the creature roared once again.

He didn’t bother waiting for the others. With his speed, he crossed the distance before anyone.

The monster at their backs was almost on top of them now. He quickly lowered Asle down the embankment and into the water, looking back to check on the others.

Nowak followed close behind with Cortez. Logan was struggling to keep pace with his prosthetic, but wasn’t too far behind.

The creature roared again, its long hand whipping out, shattering a building in the distance and throwing it at them.

Summers covered over Asle as debris washed over the group, brick and dust sending them sprawling. Something about the movement must have thrown the creature off balance, though, because it fell squarely on the room holding the black powder a moment later.

Nothing happened.

Summers jumped out of cover. Nowak and Cortez were stunned, but Nisha’s leg was twisted and bleeding; she must have been hit by the debris.

Logan grabbed the woman under the arms, pulling her into a fireman’s carry and waving Summers off. “Go!”

Summers didn’t waste time arguing. Instead, he pulled Nowak and Cortez the last few feet into the canal. If they weren’t dead yet, they had only a precious few seconds before the grenade would ignite the black powder, and that would change everything very quickly.

“Cover your ears!” Cortez yelled as she slid down into the water. The creature was only just regaining its footing.

Summers watched as Logan hobbled, Nisha on his shoulders, the prosthetic straining under the weight. Summers counted the remaining time on the fuse. It would be tight, but they could make it.

Just as they neared, the prosthetic snapped, sending both of them tumbling to the ground a dozen feet short of safety.

The last thing Summers saw before diving into the safety of the water was Logan desperately dragging the woman with everything he had.

It wasn’t enough.

Their world was engulfed by flame.

Corporal Mark Logan died attempting to save a civilian. He was twenty-six.

Chapter 28: The Pyre

Summers sat up with a start, breathing heavily. He looked around, making sure the room was still the same as he’d left it. He took one deep breath before he started to calm himself.

The last few days had been rough.

He was sitting in the corner of a lavish bedroom, one of the few that had been left untouched by the creature’s rampage. The lavish furs that had been set aside for him felt constraining. Instead, he’d taken to sleeping with his back to the sturdiest wall he could find.

It wasn’t paranoia, exactly. Most of the time they’d spent in the aftermath of the fight involved cleaning up the remnants of the creature. After the blast, pieces of it had lain steaming in the streets and the rubble of what used to be the market. Whatever it had been, the explosion was enough to put it out of commission. The city had taken to burning any black, sludge-like flesh they could find. That included any left on the bodies. And there were a lot of bodies, more than Summers could have imagined. Worst of all, not all of them had been victims of the creature.

Summers rubbed at tired eyes. As it turned out, the refugees had taken to hiding in some of the abandoned parts of the city. They’d helped clear people from the rubble—some were alive; most weren’t—and the search had done nothing but burn the image into Summers’ brain.

He was used to death. Hell, even here, during his brief time on this world, he’d seen more than his fair share.

But those had been soldiers. Moreover, they’d been adults.

Suffice to say, he was not in the best of places. The window outside was showing the barest hint of dawn, so he decided that it was better to have an early morning than to try to force sleep.

By the time he’d gotten ready and stepped outside, he found Asle in the closest common area, her knees held to her chest as increasingly harried-looking servants passed by.

“Hi . . .” Asle watched him approach. Even from this distance, he could tell she was just as tired as he was.

She hadn’t said much since they’d found Logan’s body. Most of the time, she’d been in her room, or helping the others coordinate with the guards.

“You’re up early . . .” Summers sat in a plush armchair beside her.

They were silent like that for some time. She shifted in her seat as two servants started shouting in the distance.

“Do you want to talk?” Asle looked at him, head tilted.

“All right. What do you want to talk about?”

“What’s bothering you?” She glanced up at him. “It helped when . . . I . . .”

“When Logan talked to you?” Summers supplied.

Asle nodded.

The very fact that she of all people had noticed, and was trying to help him, did more to ground him than anything.

She was a kid. Kids shouldn’t have to worry about things like this. He was a soldier. He’d more or less signed up for . . . well, something resembling this, if nothing else. He’d have plenty of time to untangle his mess of a brain later.

Summers turned to the girl. “How ’bout we practice? Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

Asle looked back to