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The helicopter still hadn’t slowed. I could hear the engine screaming.
This is how it ends for you. Choking on the floor of this filthy desert cell.
I stood up, suddenly angry. Whatever happened, happened… but I wasn’t going to die on my knees.
“HEEEYYYYYYYYY—”
An explosion blew me backward, flattening me against the opposite wall. Concussion grenade, probably. Or a set charge. Or—
“Briggs?”
I rubbed the soot from my eyes as all the smoke got sucked out of the room. There was a hole where the main wall used to be. Men rushed in, rifles drawn.
“He’s in here!” one of the men said into a shoulder-mounted walkie. He coughed, the rest of the smoke cleared, and I recognized the face immediately:
Markus Ladrone.
“I found him,” Markus repeated, “or at least I found a bear that looks like him.” He looked me up and down. “Jesus, Briggs. You need a fucking shave.”
I curled my lips back in a snarl. “You!”
“Yeah,” he laughed. “Me.”
I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. “I should’ve known you couldn’t stay away,” I sneered. “I would’ve left you alone, Markus. It would’ve been easy for you—”
“Oh shut the hell up already,” he snapped. The smug grin was still on his face. If only my cell weren’t locked, I would’ve loved wiping it off.
“You here to finish me?”
“In another timeline maybe,” Markus laughed. “But no. This time I’m here to rescue you. As stupid as that sounds.”
I blinked, and before I knew what was happening two men ran up behind him. One of them pulled off his mask and goggles, revealing an overly-bright, friendly face. The shit-eating Iowa grin gave it away.
“DAKOTA!”
He smiled and reached for me, and I reached back. In the meantime, the other soldier had already begun setting phosphorous charges on the hinges of my cell door.
“What the fuck is happening?”
Dakota’s eyes shifted over to Markus, then back at me. “Lots of stuff. Tell you about it later, though. Let’s get you out of here first.”
The other man tapped him twice, rapidly, on one shoulder. Dakota nodded.
“Briggs! Get to the ass end of your cell.”
Half a second later a searing white light flared, mixed in with a deadly pink. I looked away just in time. It was brighter than a dozen suns. Hotter, too.
“COME ON!”
He door to my cell fell away with a heavy clang, helped along by Dakota’s strong right arm. A hand reached in — Markus’s hand. I took it anyway, and he pulled me through.
“Chopper!” he yelled over the noise of more gunfire. “NOW!”
Just outside, the pre-dawn air actually tasted sweet. I gulped it into my lungs just as my knees buckled, and before I knew it I was being half-dragged, half-carried to the most wonderful sight in all the world: a big, beautiful Sikorsky Hawk.
“GET IN!”
I didn’t need to be told twice. Or even once, for that matter. Another pair of arms reached out, helping me inside, and the next thing I knew I was sprawled across the hard metal floor. Staring up into the grease-painted, badly-stubbled face of Ryan Dunham.
