Shadows of War (34 page)

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Authors: Larry Bond

BOOK: Shadows of War
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One of the barbs had gone into his side. He felt it as he pulled away. He pulled the girl up, checked her—she didn't seem to be hurt, just scared, very scared.
“Through here.”
Josh held up a strand of the wire. M
didn't move. He leaned down, levering the strands apart so the space was bigger.
“Go,” he whispered to M
, trying to make his voice sound gentle, knowing that he had to be reassuring even though he felt anything but.
M
squeezed through. Josh followed. His stomach hurt as he contorted. His right pants leg caught on one of the barbs, snagged, and ripped as he forced his leg to follow the rest of his body.
Through the wire, he rolled onto the ground, fighting the pain. He forced himself up, then felt a new wave of panic when he didn't see the girl.
“M
.” Her name sounded like a groan.
“M
!”
He took a step, felt the pain swell in his side. He looked down. There was a black spot on his shirt.
Something moved near him.
“M
?”
The girl popped out of the brush.
“Kia,”
she said, pointing.
He wasn't sure what the word meant, but he pushed himself forward, glad to see her, still half fearing the worst.
A bicycle was leaning next to a tree. It was almost brand new, obviously parked there very recently, maybe by one of the people in the barn as an emergency escape.
They were on a slight rise; ten yards down the hillside a trail wound through the woods.
Josh grabbed the bicycle and walked it down through the trees to the path. The trail was rough but passable. He climbed onto the seat.
The pain in his side wasn't that bad. He could deal with it. He would have to.
“Come on, M
,” he said. She ran over; he started to grab her but she already knew what to do, climbing directly onto the crossbar.
His side seemed to split open with his first push on the pedal. Josh struggled to ignore it, pushing with his left foot, and then his right.
Go, he told himself.
Go!
After twenty yards, the path met a blacktopped road. Josh veered onto it without really thinking, grateful for the easier pedaling and surer balance. It was only after he'd gone a hundred yards that he realized he was back on the road the Chinese must have used to get to the house. But it was too late to turn back. He leaned forward, his chest touching M
's side, putting as much energy into his legs as possible. His torn pants leg flapped against the chain guard, a steady if light drum keeping time as he went.
Another sound rose over it, behind him. A truck.
Several trucks.
Josh veered off the road onto the shoulder. M
hopped off; he grabbed the bike and pointed to the trees.
His head was swimming by the time he reached the thick clump of vegetation. He put the bike down and lay down, curling around his wound, trying to get his breath back. M
sat next to him, her tiny body on top of his.
The trucks took longer than he expected to arrive. The sound kept building and building. Finally Josh forced himself up to take a look. At first he couldn't see anything. Then a green and brown blur passed by—a camouflaged command vehicle.
Not much.
Another blur, similar in size and shape.
A lot of noise for just two trucks.
And then a gray truck passed by, a two-part troop vehicle. Then another. And another. A whole parade of them, an endless parade.
Josh sank back in despair.
“I should have shot them when I had the chance,” he said aloud. “Now there's way too many. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”
M
looked at him.

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