“You told them right.” I gather the scaredest-looking kid into my arms and keep pace with T.J. to the door, then usher the group outside.
Out in the night air, T.J. barks out a thick cough, and I grip the back of his neck and look him over fast. “You hurt?”
He shakes his head, then sways.
“Gonna get you checked out.” I move the group toward the lot, where a couple of frantic parents rush over and claim their kids. Before the rest of us make it to one of the rescue vehicles, a burst of gunfire pops from the far edge of the school grounds.
Kozlov and his people are still out there.
Buck’s voice comes across the radio, cutting through the chaos. “Movement inside the gym. One of them’s inside.”
My blood turns to ice. This needs to end now.
I steer T.J. toward a cluster of teachers gathering children near the ambulance and catch one of them by the arm. “Keep him here. Do not let him move.”
Then I turn and run back into the school.
CHAPTER 43
CALDER
Heat slams into me when I cut into the gym, which looks like a war zone built out of school supplies.
Project boards lie trampled across the floor, along with all the destroyed projects. There are lost shoes, miscellaneous clothing items, and random splatters of glitter. The bleachers are littered with abandoned coats and bags.
Smoke bands along the ceiling, curling lower every time a door opens and closes. Somewhere beyond the gym, fire crackles in fast, hungry bursts.
Out on the grounds, I’d been able to hold it back, but now my body remembers another fire.
Different structure, different country. Same smell of burning synthetic material beneath gunpowder and heat.
For one brutal second, the gold emergency lights smear in my vision, and I’m back on that road. Metal screaming. Men shouting. The Hummer jerking sideways. The RPG hit turning air into flame faster than thought.My lungs lock.
No. Not now.I clamp down hard and anchor myself to what’s real.
The floor under my boots, basketball hoops above me, children’s posters soaked and sagging.
Buck’s somewhere on my right. Weston’s outside helping people. Elena and T.J. are alive until proven otherwise.
I force my pulse under control and move.
I know what Kozlov’s doing. His brother used the same logic. Set the obvious threat where everyone expects it, put pressure where the response has to split, and drive people into motion. Close in after chaos has stripped away order and distance.
The next move will be through whichever gap opened first.
Rifle up and ready, I take the bleachers three steps at a time. From the top row, I can see most of the floor, but I’m exposed up here, and the fire crew working below makes the sightlines messy.
Above me, there’s a narrow maintenance ledge running into the steel support structure at the upper corner of the gym. Better cover, better angle. Perfect.
I sling the rifle over my shoulder, climb the rail, and haul myself up.
It’s hotter near the ceiling, and the smoke is thicker, but from the rafters, the gym opens up beneath me in pieces I can use.
I scan the rows of tables, the center aisle, the main exits, and the doors to the hall. Movement draws my eye to the shadowed edge along the bleachers.
One hostile comes through the gray churn near the side wall, weapon up, using the drifting smoke to mask his approach. He starts to angle toward Buck’s last known position.
I settle the stock into my shoulder and fire.
