Chapter 30
Prairie Fire
"Entrance's on the first-floor corridor." Eren picked up where she'd left off. "Outside we've got a pack of goddamn 'Space Marines.' How do we get in?"
Lila had already thought of that. She eased her shoulder back and pressed flat to the rock. "Not the front door. There's a bunker bolt-hole. Comes out on the slope outside the valley—close."
"Evac tunnel. The people Nova heard might try that way out. We meet them from outside."
"Can they find it?" Eren asked.
"Hard to say. Main force is still sweeping the workshed. They might not dig for it first. We've got a window."
Scattered footsteps and metal clinks drifted in from farther off.
Eren turned her words over: bolt-hole, window—sounded like a way in. What it was, stripped down: three lives on maybe a five-percent shot.
Even if they made it inside, how bad the wounded were, whether anyone could be carried out—all blank.
And Lila was wound too tight to pull back now. Forcing her out wasn't an option.
"If the way's blocked—or we hit even one of them—we leave. Right then. Can you do that?" Eren asked.
Lila turned toward him. He already had the half strip of old belt cinched on his left arm. The buckle snapped free; he wound it tight over his left knuckles, eyes never leaving the black downslope at the far end of the ditch.
"All right," Lila said.
"Move."
She held a hand out to Nova. "Stay close. Quiet."
Nova took it and stood. The three of them hugged the rock, bent low, and edged away from the valley mouth.
Past the scree outside the mouth, Lila cut into a narrow gully. Brush choked the floor; every step cracked dry twigs and leaf litter. She stopped at a stone slab set into the slope, crouched, and scraped off the dead grass and dirt covering it.
Under the slab, a concrete frame showed, fitted with a rust-pitted iron hatch. Lila grabbed the handle and heaved. The hinges were half seized; they tore out a short, sharp scrape.
"Down here."
The shaft dropped into black. Lean in and cold mold hit the nose at once.
Lila went first, found the steps, checked her footing, then waved them down.
Nova, last in, tipped his head and shut his eyes a beat.
"Inside—left," he said.
Lila nodded. It matched the bunker layout she knew.
The hatch shut overhead. Wind and scorched air cut out together. What was left: three breaths, boots on the steps, and damp that thickened the farther they went.
At the bottom the passage narrowed to one body wide. Lila led with her left hand on the wall. Two turns, then the floor pitched down; smoke crept into the air.
A few minutes on, the passage widened and the ceiling lifted. Lila slowed, one hand open behind her: hold.
They stood at the bunker mouth. Iron doors lined both sides of the corridor.
Nova tipped his head and caught Lila's sleeve.
"Room up ahead. Someone's still outside the door."
Metal boot heels rang from the far end—iron on concrete.
Lila yanked Nova into the shadow by the entrance, angled herself over most of him, and pressed her palm to Eren's hand: back up, quiet. Eren slid into the dark at the corner they'd come from, only half a face showing past the wall.
The powered-armor trooper didn't come their way. He was clearing rooms one by one.
He stopped at a door, pushed in, and came back out a few seconds later.
Eren eased his head back and caught Lila's upper arm.
"We're done. Pull out."
Lila didn't fight the grip. She only turned. "You two go first."
She wasn't talking tactics. In her eyes there was no exit—only the breath still dragging in that room.
"We already agreed," Eren said, and didn't let go.
Lila's voice went harder. "I said go."
Raised voices would bring them.
Eren turned his face. His feet were already angled toward the passage they'd come by.
In the corner of his eye, Lila shifted two steps the other way, long crossbow already in her hands.
His boots locked.
A beat ago he'd read it as leverage—her forcing him to show his hand. The move said otherwise. She meant to go in alone.
Forget whether they could even drop the trooper. One exit on the tunnel. If the ones outside found it and sealed it, that was the last way out gone.
Nova edged in and pinched Eren's sleeve between two fingers.
Eren looked back. Their eyes met. His thumb rubbed the belt on his knuckles twice. He still didn't let go.
"Damn it."
He pivoted, hugged the wall shadow, and followed her.
She glanced back—eyes catching for a beat. She hadn't expected the bastard to come die with her. A "you" started on her lips and she swallowed it.
Eren tipped his head once.
Lila smiled—her whole face lit for a blink—and tipped hers back.
Down the corridor, the trooper reached another door, pushed it, and stepped through.
Eren signed twice to her and Nova: wait till he's in, then move.
He hauled Nova into the wall shadow and slipped into the empty room the trooper had just left. Lila eased into the corner recess and nocked a bolt without a sound.
Nova listened, tapped Eren's forearm once, and pointed at a spot on the wall.
Eren planted himself facing the wall, stance wide. The belted left fist locked; pale-gray lines under the skin threw a cold light. His waist snapped. The punch drove through. Knuckles punched the breach, clamped the trooper's odd gun, and jammed the barrel hard down.
The trooper hadn't even caught on. Half his body was already yanked into the rim of the hole. Eren's right arm punched through the split, forearm wedged into the seam under the breastplate and helmet rim. The shoot's force poured along the tendons; he crushed down with everything he had.
Whatever the armor was made of, Eren was at full power and the plate only dented a fraction—barely enough pressure on the throat to matter.
The fold under the helmet rim creased into a hairline crack. Cold white light flickered in the slit. The trooper's eyes clenched. He had no idea what he was fighting—something that could crush the latest Type IV full-coverage powered armor out of shape with one arm.
Panic flashed and was gone. An elbow drove back; the exoskeleton threw the arm like a whip. Eren pushed the shoot to the limit and held on.
They wrenched across the hole, both locked on the mid-barrel. Eren drove a knee into the man's side; the armor's weight shoved him half a step off. The mechanical arm twisted back. The barrel jerked between their hands.
Cold sweat ran on Eren. He'd wanted it over fast. On raw strength, he still wasn't matching the suit.
Lila timed the lock and loosed.
A sharp ring.
The bolt tip hit plate, failed to punch through, and glanced away spent.
The trooper's head tipped a fraction. He had the shooter now.
His wrist twisted. Exoskeleton assist eased the barrel a few degrees right—straight at Lila's corner.
Eren flicked a glance that way, brow locked, grip suddenly harder. His fingers crushed the barrel until it deformed under the print of his hand.
The pale-gray lines under his skin flared—licked by fire—gray to yellow in a blink.
Keep this up and the shoot's heat and drain would drop him flat. After that, no coming back.
The thought hit. He snapped his head up and drove a headbutt into the side of the helmet.
A dull thud. Flesh on iron. Dust shook loose from the hole. His vision went black. The brow ridge tore open; blood flooded his eye at once.
No sane person headbutts powered armor. He had nothing else left.
The visor already carried dents. Another crack spidered through with a dry snap. The trooper inside staggered—but the barrel still tracked Lila.
Nova huddled behind the broken wall, unable to see the full room next door. He knew where that vapor rifle pointed—the kind that could erase a person where they stood. Unbidden, a white flash, green smoke, and a black print on the dirt flashed through his head. This time the shape in it was someone he knew.
"Don't!"