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“Nine minutes,” Pike says quickly and quietly.
“Confirmed,” Isaac responds.
“We’ll move in four,” I tell them both. “Sixty seconds through the water, four minutes to the road, and then we move against the caravan.”
“Acknowledged,” they both respond.
I count in my head.
“Move!” I command.
We all dive into the river, swimming as quickly as we can against the current to make sure we land at the correct point on the opposite bank. Our timing is perfect, and a minute later, we’re running through the woods.
The underbrush begins to thin out, and I can see an opening through the trees and the roadway beyond. We slow as we get to the edge of the forest and halt. The convoy is coming around a steep curve—right on schedule.
I watch the first of the trucks approach. I recognize the trucks loaded with grain, a refueling truck, a medical van, and a transport vehicle. In addition to the trucks, there are four smaller vehicles with passengers. Spat is supposed to be in the second car, not the transport.
I tense, ready to move as soon as the second car passes the checkpoint.
I look to Isaac and Pike. Their eyes are on me, waiting for the command. Just as I am about to give it, the convoy stops.
Isaac’s eyes narrow.
“What’s happening, Sten?” Riley asks.
“The convoy stopped,” I tell her. “When is the next scheduled refueling?”
“Not for another hour,” she says. “What are they doing?”
“Not sure. Checking.”
“Use caution.” She’s trying to conceal the emotion in her voice, but she isn’t completely successful.
“Acknowledged.”
Pike, Isaac, and I confer for a moment, and I decide to move closer to see what is happening with the trucks farther back. I use the tree line to keep myself hidden well enough to get a better look. I pass the gas truck and catch a glimpse of the second car. If Errol Spat is in there, he’s driving. There are no other passengers to be seen.
That’s unexpected.
As I get to the bend in the road and can see down the rest of the caravan, I know something isn’t right. There are three transport trucks, not one as was reported to us, and they’re not carrying civilians.
A steady stream of soldiers jumps from the back of the transports, armed and ready. They’re heading right for me.
They knew we were coming.
“We’ve been compromised!”
“Clarify!” Riley’s voice calls into my head.
“Large group of soldiers, three platoons, minimum.”
“Get back to the group,” Riley says. “Now.”
“Acknowledged.” I start to retreat, but rifle fire erupts all around me. I return fire as I retreat, racing back to the cover of the trees and my companions.
How did they know we would be here?
Bullets riddle the trees around me, throwing chucks of wood through the air. The shots don’t come close to me at all, but I continue to dodge back and forth defensively.
