Was this it? Was it time?
Staying as still as possible, he listened.
Another crunch, quieter than the first. Was the noise moving away or…?
A third, definitely closer.
A faint gasp escaped Estella’s lips.
He gently squeezed her again, hoping she couldn’t tell he was as scared as she was.
The next sound he heard was not a footstep but a voice.
“Stay where you are,” Omega Two barked.
The two survivors were huddled together behind the house, lying next to a pile of wood, their backs to him. The one on the left, the smaller of the two, was visibly shaking.
“Drop any weapons where I can see them,” he ordered.
The one on the right, a man, said, “We-we don’t have any.”
Patrols had yet to come across a survivor who wasn’t packing some kind of weapon. “I said, drop them.”
Slowly, the man pulled something from under his jacket and held it out to his side. A paring knife.
“Toss it in the snow,” Omega Two said.
The man flicked the knife away from him. It broke through the crusty surface of the snow and stopped a few inches in, its handle sticking into the air.
“What else do you have?” Omega Two asked.
“Nothing. I swear.”
Omega Two didn’t believe that for a second. He scanned the snow around them, looking for additional footprints, but only the two sets were visible. Still, he asked, “Are there more of you?”
“More? Um, no, just Estella and I.”
“All right. Put your hands behind your back and clasp them together.”
“Why?” The question came from the woman. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Put your hands behind your back and clasp them together.”
With obvious reluctance, they did as instructed.
“If you so much as twitch, I will pull my trigger without warning and that will be that. Understood?” he asked.
“We’re cooperating,” the woman said. “There’s no need to shoot us.”
“Please tell me you understand.”
“We understand,” the man blurted out. “We won’t move.”
“Good. You’re first, then. Stand up, take three steps to your right, then kneel down and lean forward without moving your hands.”
The two survivors exchanged a glance before the man executed the instructions. When he knelt, the snow came all the way to his waist.
“Lean forward,” Omega Two said.
The man did so, his torso and face skimming the top of the snow.
Omega Two exchanged his rifle for the pistol on his belt and one of the zip ties kept for situations such as this. Cautiously, he approached the survivor, and then quickly slipped the tie around the man’s wrists and tightened the loop.
He looked over at the woman. “Your turn. Same as your friend.”
She came over and sank next to the man.
Once her wrists were also secured, Omega Two touched his mic again. “This is Omega Two, does anyone read me?”
Like before, he received no answer.
“Dammit,” he muttered. He knew the prisoners would likely be killed, but his bosses would want to question them first to make sure they weren’t lying about being alone. “All right, up. We’re going for a walk.”
The prisoners rose awkwardly to their feet and turned to face him.
He motioned to the gap between the house and the garage. “Back that way. And don’t even think about running. I’ll put a bullet in your back before you even get ten feet.”
“We won’t run,” the man replied.
“Good. Let’s move.”
As instructed, Robert and Estella passed closer to the garage than the house as they left the backyard.
Just as they reached the midway point of the garage door, Morgan — head of the ambush team — whistled quick and sharp. Robert and Estella immediately dove forward, their falls cushioned by the snow.
“Don’t move!” Morgan commanded.
After hearing an “oomph” from behind him, Robert rolled on his side so he could see what was going on.
The Project Eden security man was facedown in a drift of snow. While Tristan ground a knee into the guy’s back, Keller searched for weapons. Once the man’s guns and radio had been removed, they rolled him over and yanked him to his feet.
Robert looked over at Estella to make sure she was okay. Her smile told him everything he needed to know.
“It worked,” she said.
“I told you it would.”
Together they helped each other get to their feet.
“Hey,” Robert called to the others. “Can someone cut us out of these?”
Sandy hustled over while the other three Resistance members worked on stripping the guard of his outfit.
“You have no idea how big a mistake you’re making,” the guard protested.
Morgan smacked him in the face. “Shut up.”
Free from the zip ties, Robert put his arms around Estella and whispered, “You did great.”
“I nearly threw up.”
“You and me both.”
They walked over to the others.
“You guys all right?” Morgan asked.
“Fine,” Robert said.
“Excellent job.” Morgan looked over at Tristan. “Done yet?”
“Almost,” Tristan said.
“If you were smart, you’d get the hell out of here right now,” the guard said. “My squad will be here any second and then you’re screwed.”
“Might be true if your team knew you were here,” Morgan told him. He pulled a black box about the same size as a smartphone from his pocket and waved it at the man. “Signal jammer.” He then flicked it off and raised his own radio to his mouth. “Morgan to Powell. Objective achieved. Heading for rendezvous point.”
The building turned out to be the home of Everton High School. At three stories, it was the tallest structure in town — if you didn’t count the steeple Chloe was trying hard to not think about.
As a lookout point, the school was nearly perfect. From the roof, a watcher could see a good portion of the town, as well as the two main roads leading out of the city.
Chloe studied the structure from behind a realtor office near the front of the school. She noted several entrances but doubted any would be unlocked. Her hope was to find one that would be easy to work open.
What played in her favor was that, so far, the sentry moved around the roof in a distinct pattern. She watched him come around again and pause at the edge of the side to her right and then do the same at the one facing her.
As soon as he continued on to her left, she slunk out of the shadows and dashed across the street. Staying as close to the building as possible, she headed for the nearest entrance. Carved in stone above the door were the letters EHS. Flanking these were numbers 19 on the left and 35 on the right.
She grabbed the door handle and pressed the latch release but it didn’t move. She moved around the corner to the next door. As she neared, she noticed a path cut through the snow leading from the doorway to the street, and guessed this was the entrance the sentries used. She moved up the steps and tried the handle, but it too was locked.
She checked her watch. This was taking far too much time. If everything was going according to plan, the other squads would be wrapping up soon. She needed to do the same.
She circumnavigated the building, looking for options. Her first discovery was a cellar door that she might, in a pinch, pry open, but by the rust on the hinges she wouldn’t be able to do it quietly.
Her second discovery was better. Attached to the back of the building was a smaller, one-story storage shed, and just above it, running up the back of the main building all the way to the roof, were three pipes.