Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One) by Nathan Hystad (ereader iphone .TXT) 📕

Not the words you wanted to hear in a situation like this. My entire body was cold, the horrific weather creeping past the protection of my many layers. I shifted on my knees and kept chipping away with the hand-held tool.

“Rex, I said we have a problem!” He loomed over me, and I stared a short distance north, where Veronica was landing. The plane kicked up clouds of snow as it skidded to the ground.

“What is it?” I finally asked.

Tripp had his M4A1 out, his eye pressed to the scope. “Hurry. That’s not Veronica!”

I understood what he meant when I saw the shape of the plane and the fact that it was far larger than ours, with a different logo on the side. This wasn’t our friends; it was the Believers coming to steal the Tokens.

I scrambled with the pick, my heart beating so hard, I barely heard the pair of them shouting at me.

“Faster!” Marcus yelled. He had a gun in his grip, his huge mitten dangling from a string on his jacket.

I worked the ice and tugged at the sack with my other hand, banging tirelessly until I could pull it free. At some point, I must have torn the bag with the sharp edge, and the Token slipped out, falling to the rocks. I grabbed it without looking and shoved it away, safely beside the other four.

We’d done the work, and now the cult was here to claim the prizes. I hated them with a passion, this group of devotees who claimed to await the Unknowns’ arrival. They’d lurked in the shadows for decades. Watching. Waiting.

But none of that mattered today. The Believers were here, and they wanted what I had resting inside my jacket. And they would stop at nothing to return to their Sovereign with the Tokens. But… the Case was with Hunter and Veronica on the plane, and I took a minor bit of solace in that.

“There are three of them,” Tripp told us. Even from this far, I could spot their dark outlines against the white backdrop. “Can’t recognize them with their ski masks on, but they’re armed.”

“What do we do?” Marcus’ voice shook.

Their plane began to roll over the snow-covered ground, turning before halting. This meant the pilot was still on the vessel, making four of them.

“Three against four. I can handle those odds,” Tripp said. “Time to hustle.”

It was too cold to be exposed for much longer, and I noticed that he was heading for the van. I really had no clue what a military-trained killer like Tripp Davis would do in this scenario, but I never in a million years expected him to run. We trailed after him as he dashed across the field. My lungs burned with the cold, each breath growing more and more painful. Marcus had slowed down too, his eyelashes caked in ice. Air escaped the mouth hole of his balaclava in a haze, and I nodded, trying to send him non-verbal support. When I saw our abandoned vehicle again, still billowing exhaust from the tailpipe, I realized Tripp did indeed have a plan—not that I’d doubted him.

The others were probably five minutes behind us, and I was grateful for the respite. “Climb inside,” Tripp said. “You have two minutes to warm up.”

I didn’t hesitate, opening the rear door for Marcus. I shoved in behind him and remembered we had a radio. It was toasty inside, and I unwrapped my scarf and lowered the protective neck shielding from my jacket. “Veronica! The Believers are here! They found us. We’re at the van.”

I paused, hearing something outside. Tripp was fiddling with the gas cap.

It was Hunter’s voice that carried through the speaker. “Did you retrieve the Token?”

That was the only thing that mattered to him. “I have it.”

“We’re going to land. You’ll need the backup,” Veronica said, and I heard Hunter protesting beside her.

I shoved the radio into my parka, and Tripp knocked on the window. “Time’s up!”

Marcus stared at me with fear painted on his face. “What the hell, Rex?” He still had the gun in his hand. “I can’t do this.”

“Sure you can. You remember what I taught you at the range.” I hated using the cliché, but it was all that came to mind as I exited the vehicle. “It’s us or them. I’m not dying today.” I took the other P226 and dropped my mitten, gripping the metal tight with the insulated glove underneath.

Tripp splashed a bottle of liquid across the vehicle, and I smelled the gasoline as we approached the cover of the ridge we’d driven around a half hour ago. Where he’d sourced a tube to start the siphoning remained a mystery.

We pressed our backs to the cold rock, and Tripp chuckled as the three Believers entered our line of sight. They moved like soldiers, cautiously resting their semi-automatics on their chests as they checked out the vehicle. They were close enough that I could hear their voices but not make out the words. I stared at the trio wearing matching black jackets, possibly obscuring Kevlar vests. Their faces were indistinguishable with the dark masks, but they looked confident as the lead soldier opened the driver’s door and turned the vehicle off.

Tripp grunted, aiming his rifle toward the group. “Ready?” he asked.

“For what?” Marcus asked.

“When it blows, we hit them. Got it?”

“Not really,” I murmured.

“Follow my lead. Point and shoot. They won’t expect this to work.” Tripp began firing, but not at the soldiers. The bullets struck the side of the modified van, and the men tried to dash away. One of them slipped, falling a few feet from the vehicle.

Tripp’s plan didn’t seem to work, and I noticed the cultist relax slightly as he growled a laugh in defiance. My ally fired again, and the tank exploded. The concussion was so loud, rushing toward us with the wind, and I barely saw Tripp leave our side. The nearest man