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“Yeah,” he breathes. “I’m doin’ it, but my heart’s beating like a jackhammer.”
“Chopper team, hang back,” Sarge says into his radio. His gaze jumps back and forth between towers. “We’ve got two armed guards, one each atop two towers by the road. We’ll deal with them and slip in nice and quiet. When you see us split up, that’s when you make a run for the casino.”
“Roger that, Sarge,” X-Ray says.
“Here we go, men.” Sarge is speaking to all of us, now. “Teams, check in. Everyone remember their jobs?”
I sure as hell do. Once we get past the wall, the trucks will split up. The back-seat search teams will disembark to quietly look for Jud. Meanwhile, the front-seat teams will storm St. Patrick’s and the casino, with air support from Target and X-Ray. Front-seat teams will draw the attention away from the search teams, and while we’re at it, we’ll take out as many of Raptor’s nearest and dearest as possible. And if we find Raptor himself, which I hope we do, we’ll go Guantanamo on his ass until he tells us where Jud is. Then we’ll end his miserable existence.
“Ready and willing,” I say, and everyone else chimes in with their affirmative answer.
“All right, men,” Sarge says. “Switch to team channels. Operation Wall-Breach is a go.”
That’s Grim’s cue. He gets out from the backseat and takes a knee to aim at the right-hand tower. In front of us, Recon steps out from the driver’s seat of the other truck and does the same but with the left tower.
“On my count,” Recon says, and I see Grim nod. “Three, two, one.”
On one, both men fire, and the unsuspecting guards collapse.
“You’re up, big guy,” I say to Brawn.
I get a face-full of his shoulder as he maneuvers his big body until he’s standing on the seat, upper half sticking out the roof port. It’s up to him and Steel, who’s getting out of the other truck, to combine their Gifts to open up the massive, reinforced door in the barricade.
The back door of our truck opens, and Stealth slips out. His job is to keep the trucks hidden as the two men do their work and to keep the noise from reaching anyone inside the wall.
My knee bounces with pent-up energy. I’ve never been more ready for a mission. “Get that fucking door open,” I say under my breath. “Doc’s got an itchy trigger finger.”
Chapter 13
Cora
Grim climbs backin the truck beside me. Wordlessly, he sets his rifle between his spread legs, butt on the floorboards, and he fastens the five-point harness that serves as his seatbelt. I lean into him, and he’s stiff as a board.
He just killed a man.
Grim hates killing. It doesn’t matter if it’s with a touch or with a gun. He’s not a killer, and he never will be. But he’ll do it when it’s his duty. In the past two years, he’s done it for Jud. Just now, he did it for Jud. And he’ll probably do it again tonight.
I lay my hand on his. The rough texture of his favorite gloves meets me instead of his pale, warm skin. It’s a disappointment, but I make do, because Grim’s not taking any chances. He refuses to leave any skin exposed and risk accidentally killing one of his brothers or one of our new friends. Even though he’s working on his Gift with Doc’s help, he’s still so, so careful. Because he hates death. And at the same time, his touchisdeath.
He doesn’t look at me, but I know he feels my touch, because beneath his goggles, his gaze flicks to my hand on his before returning out the window again. Usually, he’s so attentive to me, so gentle and considerate. But right now, he’s lost in his own thoughts, and from the hard set of his jaw, I can tell they’re not happy ones.
I want to say something to him. I want to tell him it’s okay. He had to do it. It’s for our leader. But I doubt any of that matters. Grim values life. It’s just who he is.
I’ve wondered so many times why he was in prison before the Virus. I wonder about the people he’s lost. He’s told me stories about his wife and daughter, but he’s never talked about their deaths. Did he return home after escaping prison to find them dead from the Virus, or did he have to watch them die, like I watched my parents and Casey die?
Maybe someday, he’ll choose to share those things with me, but at the moment, there’s no time to dwell on it. Brawn and Steel are forcing open the huge door in the wall while Stealth looks on, hopefully keeping the screeching sound of abused metal from reaching the occupants inside. His Gift must have worked, because past the open gate, I don’t see any cavalry running to meet us.
Brawn’s upper half is sticking up through the roof window. From there, he’s using his Gift to help Steel open the huge gate. I can’t see what’s happening out there, but I hear Brawn say, “We’re through,” so I know their combined Gifts must have worked.
“Safeties off,” Sarge says from the front seat of our truck. “Here we go.”
Stealth returns to the seat on the other side of me from Grim, not bothering to buckle in, and Brawn lowers himself, but he’s not all the way inside. With one knee braced on the bench between Sarge and Doc, he remains head-and-shoulders outside. He’s got a helmet jammed on his head, and he’s resting his elbows along the roof, aiming his machine gun forward.
Then we’re rolling past the gate, into Raptor’s territory.
Grim rotates his hand so it’s palm up. His fingers lock with mine.
I squeeze him back, heart beating faster. This is it. Sarge is taking us closer and closer to the south end of the French Quarter, what Doc calls the warehouse district, and we’re not leaving without Jud.
