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Brenda found her own cigarette lighter and began lighting one corn stalk after another on fire as quickly as she could. Mack worked with his back to Brenda.
“What are you doing?” Wilson begged.
“Separating the teams,” Brenda explained as she and Mack continued to set the corn on fire.
Mack lit one last corn stalk and then grabbed Josh's hand. “Move,” he ordered, running on tired legs as the burning corn began to catch and spread as if someone had doused the entire cornfield with gasoline.
“Fire, sir,” a combat soldier yelled as the helicopter carrying Rhode circled around one last time. The smoke from the burning corn began to flood up into the air, blinding the bright searchlight.
Rhode's excitement turned into rage. “Lower us down, now!” he yelled at the pilot.
The pilot lowered the helicopter low enough to the ground to allow Rhode and his four-man hit team to jump out into the corn. As soon as Rhode's combat boots hit the dry earth, he took off running, putting the fire behind him.
“Check the town,” he ordered his team. “I'll secure the corn. They may have doubled back.”
Rhode knew that his targets were still in the corn but he wanted the trophy all for himself. Whoever had set the corn on fire was going to pay. Bruce Collingsworth was going to demand heads, and Rhode wasn't going to be one of those heads.
The pilot zoomed back up into the air. He looked down at the cornfields and saw the fire cutting the cornfield in half in a bright, hungry, blaze. Brenda and Mack were setting corn stalks on fire as they ran. The fire was spreading like a giant red wave crashing toward shore, picking up power as it moved forward. Red Team was completely cut off.
“Sir,” a man called in to Rhode from the opposite end of the cornfield. “The fire—”
“Search the cornfield. The targets could be on the other line of the fire,” Rhode ordered, running beside the burning corn, using a bright flashlight to examine spot corn stalks that had been disturbed by passing bodies. Rhode put away his walkie-talkie and increased his speed. He was confident he was gaining on his quarry, who couldn’t possibly keep up the same pace he could.
“Please… slow… down,” Wilson huffed and puffed, struggling to run with his hands behind his back. Before he could say another word, his legs became tangled up and he hit the ground, nearly taking Brenda down with him.
“Get up!” Brenda ordered in an angry voice. She reached down and grabbed Wilson's right arm to pull the frightened man up. As she did, a single bullet exploded into him. Wilson's body jerked forward and crashed into Brenda, causing her to fall backward.
Mack spotted a dark shadow squatting down in the corn aiming a rifle in his direction. He grabbed Josh and hit the ground. Brenda pushed Wilson's dead body off her and crawled over to Mack.
“Shooter in the corn. There.” Mack pointed him out with his eyes, using the bright burning flames to illuminate his motion. “Split up and stay low.”
Brenda nodded as Mack began firing at Rhode. Rhode ducked down and dropped back into the flames. “I'll pick them off one by one,” he growled as the flames continued to spread throughout the cornfields.
Mack stopped firing and pulled Josh away from Wilson's dead body. “Josh, run. Go get help. Don't stop running until you find help. Is that clear?” he ordered.
Josh looked into Mack's hard face—saw a caring man who had been beaten down by life—and then took off running into the corn like a streak of lightning. “Good boy,” Mack whispered and then turned to hold his position until he felt that Josh had a good head start.
Mack figured the fire had separated the hit teams, but he knew that at least one solid team was on his side of the corn. Escaping, he knew, wasn't going to be a possibility. Josh might have a chance to escape—if he and Brenda stayed back and held off the hit team long enough for the kid to vanish. Mack was certain that the hit team had clear infrared scopes attached to their rifles and night vision goggles.
Rhode army crawled through the corn, moving away from the fire, keeping close to the edge of the cornfield, circling around Mack without being seen. Surely the woman had taken up a firing position behind Mack or maybe the woman had fled with the kid? Rhode wasn't certain. He didn't care. He could run down the woman and the kid after dealing with male cop. The nearest town was fifty miles away. Plenty of room and time to run down two scared rabbits.
“There you are,” Rhode grinned, using a high powered infrared scope to spot Mack. Mack was slowly belly crawling backward, struggling to keep away from the burning corn. “Clean shot.”
“I don't think so.”
Rhode jerked his head to the right and saw Brenda laying on her stomach aiming a hard Glock right at his head. And then with a single bullet, the black abyss swallowed him up forever.
Brenda let out a sigh of relief, lowered her gun, and placed her head down onto a patch of dry dirt for a second. “Have to stay strong,” she whispered and rose up onto her knees. A bullet tore through her chest, violently throwing her body backward. Mack saw Brenda take a bullet and then spotted a second shooter. But the shooter wasn’t wearing the gray fatigues of Rhode's team. The shooter was Bruce Collingsworth, a man wearing a sharp suit and carrying a hard M-16.
Bruce had no intention of letting anyone leave Green Ridge alive. As much as he trusted Rhode, his gut told him to travel to Green Ridge and monitor the situation in person. When Bruce saw Brenda kill Rhode, he knew it’s time to take action.
“Green Team, get to my position. Follow the signal attached to the walkie-talkies.” Bruce lowered his walkie-talkie and studied Brenda's motionless body.
“Good thing I tracked you, Rhode,” he whispered under his breath.
Mack raised his M-16 and sighted a clear view of Bruce's head. Just before he pulled the trigger, a hard boot came down and stomped his firing hand.
“I don't think so,” a deadly voice yelled. Mack looked up and saw a man wearing a pair of night vision goggles staring down at him. The man, p
