“Scabs?” Krista muttered to herself as she took off running toward the commotion.
Helena shifted her feet again, hunching and holding her pose in a snarl.
“No!” Summer yelled out from Krista’s right.
Krista stopped and turned to see if Summer was okay. What she saw was the girl lying on the ground with an outstretched arm in the direction of Sergeant Barkley.
The mutt was in a dead sprint for the trees ahead of him, with his ears back and tail low, looking the part of heatseeking missile.
Two strides later, the dog sent itself airborne over a collection of deadfall, soaring over the obstacle in a smooth jump. When his paws hit the ground, he started barking as he continued his jaunt.
“That thing knows how to bark?” Lipton called out from his position behind the second truck. “Who knew?”
Krista turned and sent Lipton a glare, knowing she shouldn’t leave the man unguarded, but other factors were at play.
Lipton held her gaze for a moment, then climbed into the truck’s rear passenger seat and closed the door before he rolled down the window a few inches.
Krista faced the trees once again, then put two fingers into her mouth and released another command whistle. She pointed at one of her men who’d just arrived. It was Simms. “Go help Summer.”
The kid broke formation and took off in a jog toward Summer, who was now getting to her feet.
Summer kept her head down while brushing herself off in a flurry of hand moves. A few strokes later, she must have noticed Simms coming at her because she stopped her hands, looked at Krista, and then pointed at Lipton in an exaggerated motion.
Krista shook her head, her feet wanting to take off for Summer’s position.
Summer’s face turned tense as she pointed again at Lipton, sending a look that reminded Krista of the promise she’d just made about Lipton.
Krista nodded, though it was the last thing she wanted to do.
Summer put her arm down, turned, and took off after the dog.
“Dammit Summer,” Krista said as another guard from her team assembled next to her. She pointed at the rock shaped like a teardrop. “Get on that rock and see what’s ahead. If it’s the Scabs, then we fall back and make a stand. Nobody takes them on alone. Understood?”
The guard nodded and readied his rifle by releasing the magazine from the lower receiver and checking the rounds inside. He crammed it back into place before pulling the charging bolt back and letting it snap forward.
Krista led him with her eyes, aiming them at Horton and the Scab girl’s position. “Move.”
CHAPTER 39
Simms pushed through a grove of evergreen trees, looking for signs of Summer’s trail as the branches gave way.
The ground cover ahead had little in the way of loose dirt or leaves. Nothing soft for impressions or indents. No ice or snow either—only round pebbles the size of pennies and bits of dark-colored bark.
He didn’t understand it. He was certain Summer had just run through this very spot. It was as if she’d vanished right before his eyes. So had the dog, assuming Summer had followed the canine’s path through these trees.
Simms stopped moving and listened, not hearing anything other than the beat of his own heart and a few natural forest sounds.
Perhaps Summer had caught up to the dog and decided to duck down somewhere and hide. It would explain the lack of tracks. Sounds. Everything.
Simms cupped his hands around his mouth and took in a deep breath, about to call out to her. Then a strange feeling rose across his skin, sending a chill into his bones.
He dropped his arms and held his tongue, wondering if giving away his position was the right move. Maybe if he had more field training or some of Krista’s military experience, he’d know what to do.
Just then, branches snapped behind him, making him flinch as a shadow blurred past him on the left, catching part of his shoulder as it screamed by.
It was the Scab girl, her frizzy blonde hair and skinny legs darting through the foliage like a cheetah on the hunt.
“Come on,” a slender guard with a goatee said a few seconds later as he followed Helena, plowing through the forest with his boots.
Before Simms could move, he felt a pair of hands grab onto his elbow.
“Gotta keep up,” Horton said, yanking Simms forward. “She’s onto something.”
Simms peered back, expecting to see Krista holding up the rear. Yet she wasn’t there. Only the mirage of endless green mixed in with the brown.
He turned forward again and took off in a sprint behind Horton, wondering how many more trees he'd have to endure, each one with sharp branches out to smack him in the face.
When a riverbed with basketball-sized rocks came into view, Helena zoomed across the obstacle course, landing her feet with precision, like a squirrel hopping from tree to tree.
The rest of her entourage slowed down and slipped into a single file formation, with the skinny guard leading the way across the rocks.
Simms made sure to plant his feet in the same spots as Horton, who was apparently doing the same thing with the guard in front of him.
Ahead—maybe twenty yards—was a stand of scrub oak bushes, their thorns and acorn-sized leaves blocking the view beyond. There were also green plants with broad-shaped leaves snaking their way in and around the thorns, creating a mosaic pattern that resembled an abstract painting.
Scab girl angled left, then right, giving them a route to follow, though her slender frame meant the rest of them would most likely suffer collateral damage.
Simms brought his arms in as the thorns tore at his skin, opening cuts and scrapes in the uncovered areas around his hands, wrist, and neck.
He wasn’t sure how long this chase would last, but it needed to end soon. His chest was almost out of air and the bloodletting would only get worse. Scabs could smell blood, apparently from miles away. The more blood he lost, the more of a target he would become.
The bushes opened up to a clearing ten steps later. That’s when he saw them—Summer and the dog—plus a crop of men. Sleeveless men with neck tattoos.
Shit.
Frost’s men.
Each with a gun.
One of them was bald and had his dark-skinned hand wrapped around Summer’s mouth.
A slender man with stringy gray hair had the dog pressed into the dirt with his knee, keeping the animal’s mouth closed with a clamp of his hand.
“Welcome to the party, my friends,” the muscular bald man said from behind Summer. “We were starting to wonder if you’d ever get here.”
“On your knees,” a man with flaming red hair said, raising a rifle at Simms.
There was a bloody wrap of cloth sitting at the man’s feet, with a bushy tail sticking out from underneath.
Ground squirrel maybe, Simms figured.
Scent for the dog.
And for the Scab girl, who was lying unguarded next to the redhaired man. There was blood on her forehead, leaking out from a gash above her left eye.
Not far from Helena was the skinny guard who had zipped past Simms and told him to keep up. The guy’s throat was sliced open, with blood pouring out. And his chest didn’t appear to be moving. Or anything else along his body, for that matter.
Simms dropped to the ground and raised his hands, seeing Horton to the left.
The bearded man was on his knees and being detained by a giant red-skinned man with black hair that draped down his back in straight lines. He had a pistol pointed at the back of Horton’s head.