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“He’s a stubborn shit, that’s for sure, but hopefully he’s been doing some thinking these last few weeks.”
Before I could ask what that meant, X said an abrupt goodbye and ended the call.
33
GHOST
I knew the minute the men below spotted me. I’d known better than to let myself get distracted. I’d been so excited to talk to Rogue that I’d stopped being careful. I shifted position, and the board beneath me creaked.
Shots went off as I scrambled back from the edge of the loft.
Several rats scurried away into the shadows and crevices, but I was too focused on survival to be worried about them.
These men were definitely the shoot-first-ask-questions later type, and I was basically trapped. There was a narrow window that I could fit through, but then it was a straight drop down the metal side of the building.
“Did we get him?” somebody shouted.
“I don’t think so.”
More random shots flew by me. They clearly couldn’t see me unless their aim was no better than a stormtrooper’s.
“You idiot. Get up there. Get the guy. It’s not like he can get away.”
“There are rats up there.”
“I’ll feed you to the fucking rats if you don’t take care of the problem.”
“Why don’t you go?”
Another shot came, but it wasn’t aimed in my direction. I heard the unmistakable thump of a body hitting the ground.
I ran to the window and started working my way out. I’d gotten my legs through, and I was trying to work my hips out when I heard someone coming up the ladder. I had seconds at best.
I pushed harder, not caring how much I scraped myself. When I got to my shoulders, I had to twist around, which left me hanging by a single hand. I glanced down. My path looked clear, but it was a long way to the ground.
I exhaled and let go. The freefall seemed to last forever. I kicked and reached out, trying to find some traction on the wall, but I only succeeded in slicing my hand.
When I hit the ground, my left foot gave a sickening snap. The pain made my world go dark at the edges. At least a more vulnerable part of me—like my head—hadn’t hit the ground first, but walking was going to be hell. I hobbled to where I had some cover behind an outbuilding.
Once I was there, I sat down and concentrated on breathing as I listened. Eventually, the men who were after me would come outside. They weren’t going to let me go. I’d seen too much. They had to eliminate me, especially if their contact was coming that night.
I heard them shouting, but it sounded like they were going in the other direction. At least that would buy me a little bit of time. I ripped off my t-shirt and managed to tear it into strips. I used one of the strips to put some pressure on the cut on my palm. Then I pulled off my boot, wrapped my foot and ankle, and stretched my sock back over the wrapping.
It hurt like hell to shove my foot back into my boot, but I did it. No way in hell was I going to be able to move fast enough with my bare foot on the ground. I started moving, but the pain made me so nauseous and dizzy I didn’t get far before I had to stop and vomit.
As soon as my stomach was empty, I kept walking. I’d gone farther in a lot more pain in the marines. I could do this. I had to get myself somewhere so I could get help.
If you weren’t an idiot who went in without backup, you’d have already been rescued.
I reached into my pocket for my phone, but it wasn’t there. It must’ve fallen out when I jumped. I couldn’t go back for it. That was for damn sure.
I heard voices behind me and picked up my pace, doing everything I could to wall off the pain. When I came to a parking lot, I knew my only hope was to take a car. I found an ancient, beat-up sedan that was unlocked.
Two men ran into the lot as I slid into the driver’s seat. I worked lightning fast to get the engine going as they fired at me. When the car came to life, I jerked it into drive and sped out of the lot bent down against the wheel. The car offered little protection against their bullets.
Once I was out of firing range, I let myself consider my situation. The car certainly didn’t have GPS, and without my phone, I was going to have to rely on my instinctive sense of direction. Unfortunately, my directional sense worked better when I was on foot then when I was driving a car, and it would function a whole lot better if I wasn’t in pain.
