Owen’s hand shook as he took the binoculars down to wipe sweat from his eyes. He’d never had so much responsibility. He gripped his hand tightly, trying to stop the tremors, to no avail. He returned the binoculars to his eyes.
Cecile was peering around the side of the house. She yelled into her mic through the static and gunfire, “He’s hunkered down with three others. Lots of crossfire between us and them. I can’t see any Spokes advancing.”
“Copy that,” Owen said.
Only a brief moment later, Owen could see Talon and three other disciples sprinting across Oak Boulevard.
“They’re on the move,” Owen said.
One disciple was shot in the leg and chest and then collapsed. The other three, including Talon, made it to cover on the other side. They started moving slowly up the boulevard. Owen lost them behind a tall building. “They’re on the other side of Oak now, moving up. I lost my line of sight.”
Owen scanned the environs. He could see a few other Essentialist groups making advances. A large Spoke tank was stationed up the boulevard next to the remains of a house. Some Spoke soldiers were giving the tank cover nearby. He looked back to see Flora and Cecile peering around the corner.
“What do you think Talon’s target is?” Cecile asked.
“Not sure,” Owen replied, trying in vain to find them behind the building.
He looked back to check on the team. One, two, three… six. There should be seven. “Where’s Mehta?” Owen asked.
“Merde,” Cecile said.
Owen scanned a broader area around the group and found him. “He’s to the southeast, heading up a side street. It looks like he’s going toward the tank.
Talon and the other disciples had emerged into view. They were lighting bottles and facing the tank as well. But they would be easily mowed down by a supporting infantry position that had been set up nearby, next to a large tree.
Then it made sense. He understood why Mehta split off.
“Follow Mehta, and hurry,” Owen said. “He needs help taking out an infantry position near Talon.”
Owen had to wipe at his forehead to stop the sweat from again stinging his eyes and impairing his vision.
When he returned the binoculars to his eyes, he could see a mortar had gone off near Talon. Despite the blast, Talon was still running with two other disciples toward the tank. The Spoke infantry fired at them, and one of the disciples slumped into the street. At the same time Mehta charged the infantry position from the other side, firing in earnest. The Spokes were surprised by Mehta and turned away from Talon to fire at him instead.
Talon and the other remaining disciple managed to throw their flaming bottles at the tank. One of the tank treads burst into flame. The other missed but hit the building next to it, lighting the wooden structure on fire.
Meanwhile, Mehta had been hit. He stumbled and then crawled forward, still managing to take the occasional shot at the infantry position.
Another mortar round went off between Talon and the infantry position. The smoke from the bottle bombs and mortar explosions began obscuring much of the scene. Mehta crawled toward the infantry position under the growing cloud of gray. Talon and the other disciple had been thrown to the side by the latest explosion. Soon they were hidden as well.
Cecile and the others were still making their way east toward Mehta.
“I’ve lost them behind the smoke,” Owen said. “Mehta’s been hit, but he was moving. Talon could be injured as well.”
As he waited for the smoke to clear, more Essentialist forces were pouring out from behind the wall and moving up Oak Boulevard. It was remarkable the number of men the Essentialists had held in reserve. There was a nonstop flow of infantry flooding the battlefield.
“I see Mehta,” Cecile said. “He has Talon. He’s waving us in to grab him. We’re going.”
In a few places where the smoke was thin, Owen could see their shapes move forward. The gunfire had abated. The smoke must be obscuring potential targets.
“Cecile, Flora, you okay?” Owen asked.
“Yes,” he heard Flora speak into her mic after a loud grunt. “We have Talon. We’re bringing him back off the line.”
Owen’s earpiece cut out. It cut in again, and there were more labored breaths. Then Flora said, “He’s unconscious but breathing.”
Owen saw several shapes emerge from the smoke and retreat to a squat red shed just to the west of the infantry position. It was Flora and a few of Cecile’s men, and they were carrying Talon with them.
“We’re having trouble moving Mehta,” Cecile said. “He’s hurt pretty bad, and he’s too heavy to lift. Flora, can you send the others back to help?”
“Yes, just a moment,” Flora said.
A gust of wind was pushing the smoke to the north, allowing Owen to get a better view of the surrounding area. As the wisps of gray snaked away he saw five Essentialists making their way to Flora’s position near the red shed.
“Wait a minute,” Owen said. “Flora, there are several men coming to intercept you.”
By the time Flora realized they were approaching they were only a few feet away.
Owen saw them talking with Flora. He heard crackling as Flora’s mic cut in. “This, this is nothing,” he heard Flora say. “Luna Pais asked me to try it out. If you could help us, actually, you know what, we could use your help here.”
“Cecile, that’s a sign,” Owen said.
“Got it.”
“Flora, Cecile will be there soon,” Owen said.
Cecile scampered back from the infantry position toward Flora at the red shed. Two of Cecile’s men trailed behind.
Flora had left her mic on. Owen could only hear garbled segments of the conversation. “Where… division tags?… these people?”
It sounded like they were in trouble.
“Now is as good a time as any, Cecile,” Owen said.
Cecile and her two men pulled up their rifles and fired at the Essentialist militia standing next to Flora. Flora and the other two Quebecker militia also pulled out their pistols. A flurry of bullets followed. Bodies fell in all directions. When the dust settled, it looked like only one of Cecile’s men were down.
Owen heard Cecile yell out, “Gerard! Gerard?”
They had defeated the small group with the element of surprise, but there were others within a line of sight of the conflict. Surely some would’ve seen it. Their cover would be blown soon, if it wasn’t already.
“I’m pretty sure you’ve been made,” Owen said. “You need to get out of there.”
“What about Mehta?” Cecile asked.
As the group tended to Gerard, a squad of Essentialist militants had run to take up position next to where Mehta lay wounded.
“Damn it. There’s another squad of Essentialists next to Mehta.”
To extract Mehta they would have to confront these other men. Also, the area around him was taking heavy fire again. It was one of the most advanced positions for the Essentialists, so the Spokes were throwing a lot at it.
Flora chimed in, “We have to leave him. He’s a merc—he can get by, and he knew the risks.” After a pause, she added, “Trust me, Mehta is a brute. He’s not worth saving.”
There was dead air for a moment. Mehta’s a brute? Not worth saving? He was the reason Talon was alive. But Owen didn’t say it. There was no time to argue.
Cecile asked, “Owen?”
Owen cursed under his breath. With his view of the entire engagement, Cecile had deferred to him to make the call—a call he didn’t want to make. He looked to see if there were other options, but none were presenting themselves. More Essentialists were gathering near Mehta. There were at least twenty of them.