27
LOKAN
Dawn's colors across the Russian sky were magnificent, but Lokan barely noticed the beauty. His body ached from the night-long trek through increasingly rugged terrain, his ribs were still healing because he hadn't had proper rest, and his head hurt from maintaining constant vigilance and casting his mental net around. Carol was also exhausted and operating on pure determination, which he knew was the case, not because she'd complained but because she hadn't cracked a single joke or even talked in hours.
"River crossing ahead," Grant said from a few paces ahead of them. "About half a klick."
The extraction point lay just beyond that river, and Lokan was grateful to see the end of this journey. They'd been walking for over twelve hours since abandoning the motorcycles, pushing through rocky terrain that was meant for mountain goats and not people.
"Finally," Carol muttered. "I'm about ready to swim back to America at this point."
Lokan was so glad to hear her joke again. "Almost there, my love," he assured her.
When they reached the tree line above the river, Grant held up a fist, signaling them to stop. The water below ran fast, swollen with mountain runoff. A narrow wooden bridge spanned the rapids, looking about as sturdy as one would expect in these parts.
"I don't like it," Camden said, studying the crossing through binoculars. "It's too exposed. Perfect for an ambush."
"Everything has been perfect for an ambush in these damn mountains," Dougal grumbled. "It's a strategic nightmare, but we can't second-guess every meter of terrain or we'll never make it to the extraction point."
Lokan reached out with his senses, searching for the telltale presence of immortal or human minds and found nothing, but he didn't trust himself, especially given the pounding headache he'd developed. Immortal thoughts were harder to detect from a distance, and that held even truer for enhanced immortals, whose minds were harder to penetrate.
"I'm not sensing any thoughts," he reported. "But that doesn't mean it's clear. My headache might be interfering with my extrasensory perception, and it's also possible that the ambushers are so empty-headed that they are difficult to detect."
That hadn't gotten him the chuckle he'd hoped for from Carol.
"We have no choice," Grant said. "We have to cross. We go fast, one at a time. I'll take point, then Carol, then you. Camden and Dougal, you provide cover until we are across, then follow."
Grant made it halfway across the bridge when the world exploded into chaos.
Gunfire erupted from concealed positions on both banks, the sharp crack of AK-47s mixing with the deeper boom of shotguns. Grant dove forward, rolling across the remaining planks as wood splintered around him.
"Contact left and right!" Camden said into the comm while returning fire.
Lokan grabbed Carol and pulled her behind a fallen log as bullets whizzed overhead. He reached with his mind, suddenly focused by the adrenaline rush, and this time he got something. The mental signatures that met him were human, tinged with greed and desperation rather than the focused malevolence of Doomers or human assassins.
Low-level mercenaries or bandits, who shouldn't be challenging to take out.
"Not Brotherhood," he said into the comm, squeezing off a burst toward muzzle flashes on the far bank. "Humans."
A voice called out in accented English from across the river. "You surrender now! We only want the woman and the pretty boy. Others can go!"
"Charming," Carol muttered. "They know how to make a girl feel special."
"I'm offended," Camden said through the comm. "Am I not a pretty boy?"
"Gorchenco must be behind this," Lokan growled. "My father wouldn't have wanted Carol."
She cast him an incredulous look. "Yes, he would, Lokan. He would use me to interrogate you."
That hadn't occurred to him, but she was right. His father would absolutely torture her to get him to talk.
More gunfire, but it was undisciplined, spray-and-pray tactics rather than aimed shots. These weren't soldiers or even professional criminals. These were opportunists hoping for an easy payday.
There was obviously a bounty on his and Carol's heads, but the question was who had put it up, Gorchenco or Navuh?
Did it matter?
Lokan wasn't about to let himself get caught alive, regardless of who wanted his head.
