Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Got it. Lead the way.” Maddox let Ben take point as they made their way down the ridge. They had to skirt the edge of a steep drop, every muddy step cautious even as they needed to make haste.
Crack.
Whoosh.
Two things happened at the same instant—gunfire broke out above them and a chopper approached, engine noise making it hard to track the source of the shots. But Maddox was already on it, crouching low, rifle ready. Another shot whistled over their heads and Maddox returned fire. They both left the trail and headed into the brush, intent on finding the hostiles.
The chopper circled low, then went back up. Fuck. The chopper was struggling to land in the encampment clearing, which meant the next pass was critical. Still staying low and gun ready, he inched forward. No more gunfire had followed Maddox’s, but that didn’t mean he could let his guard down for a second.
The chopper circled again, but the terrain had shifted and Ben could no longer see the encampment beneath them.
“Fuck.” Maddox never cursed, so Ben whipped his head around just in time to see Maddox slipping off the poor excuse for a trail.
Ben scrambled on his stomach, stretching out an arm, trying to catch Maddox. “Grab on.”
“No. Don’t—” Maddox didn’t get the sentence out before they were both tumbling down the muddy incline, heading straight for the ravine that lay between them and the encampment. Ben tried to slow their descent but his attempt to grab at some vines only resulted in the foliage following them down.
Maddox screamed, a legitimate yell that chilled Ben to his boots because Maddox never lost composure. Ever. Ben had once watched Wizard put sutures in Maddox’s scalp while Maddox hummed, never dropping his tune.
Ben grabbed for him again and—Pop. Ben’s arm pulled at an unnatural angle, caught up in a tree root and not Maddox’s strong grip as he’d intended. He wrenched loose but the damage was already done, and still he slid, mud carrying him faster, rocks and vegetation raining down after them.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Ben’s arm and shoulder were on fire and he was still moving, sliding, nothing working—
Boom. The bottom of the ravine arrived without warning, a muddy bog that sucked him down, but it was hardly a soft landing, rocks and plants poking at him. His arm had him cursing, eyes watering. He’d seen Rogers dislocate a shoulder last year in the grinder obstacle course, and at the time he’d rolled his eyes at how Rogers had carried on. He had a sick feeling that he’d done the same or worse to his shoulder, and he got the urge to cry and howl.
“Oh fuck.” His stomach heaved and he barely made it to his side before he threw up from the pain. He turned his head and almost lost his guts again. Maddox lay a few feet from him, leg at an unnatural angle, blood dripping from his head, helmet nowhere to be seen. Not talking or cursing.
Clawing at the rocks with his good arm, Ben pulled himself closer, looking for the telltale rise and fall of Maddox’s chest—and not seeing it.
“You are not fucking with me,” Ben growled. “Mad? Come on, man.”
Still nothing, not even a ghost of movement across Maddox’s pale lips. Terror, nothing Ben had ever known before, froze his veins, made him lightheaded from more than just the fall. He refused, utterly refused to live in a world where Maddox wasn’t okay.
“Maddox. Horvat.” He shook his shoulder, cursing under his breath. No, no, no.
Whoosh. A chopper—the chopper—flew overhead, much too far to spot them down this ravine, and heading away from them.
Sputter. Maddox let out a mighty cough. It might have been the most beautiful sound Ben had ever heard, because it meant Maddox was here, that he was fighting, and Ben started to laugh with relief until Maddox spoke. “Heck. They’re leaving us.”
Chapter Three
Maddox’s face was wet. Stupid rain. And his head spun, like he’d taken one too many trips down the big tube slide at Surf ‘n Slide back home. And just like a junior high field trip to the amusement park, his stomach was all topsy-turvy, as if he’d done an ill-advised suicide soda plus chili dog combo. And why the heck were his ears ringing?
He struggled to sit but a strong arm pushed him back. “No, don’t sit up yet. Gotta see how bad you’re injured.”
Ben. Ben was here, which meant he wasn’t fourteen after all, but hell if he could remember where he was or what happened. Injured. He didn’t feel injured—more disoriented but not pain.
He shifted under Ben’s grip and...oh sweet mother, there was the pain, a far-off sharp twinge that warned that shit was about to get really bad when his brain caught up with his body. He didn’t want to chase down that sensation, figure out where he hurt.