The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)

The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)

Bella Forrest





1





Viggo





The road was dark, barely illuminated by the headlights of the emergency vehicle we barreled along in. Clouds blocked the light of the moon—the darkness was almost oppressive. Thomas swerved, the tires squealing slightly under the strain of moving too fast at a strange angle, and I grabbed the dashboard, steadying myself. I gave him a quizzical look, but he simply shrugged, his dark eyes unwavering from the road ahead.

The rattle of gunfire behind us broke the silence of the night, cutting through it instantly. I gritted my teeth together and turned to peer into the back of the ambulance, looking at where Amber stood, her face peeking out the small window.

“They’re still behind us, Thomas!” she shouted, turning slightly and ducking farther down. I checked the mirror on the passenger side door—the larger military vehicle was so close that if Thomas tapped the brakes even slightly, their front end would be forever entangled with our rear.

“I don’t exactly have the proper skillset for this, Amberlynn!” Thomas grated, swerving again to miss yet another pothole on the ridiculously rutted and bumpy backroad he had retreated down.

“DON’T USE THAT NAME!” Amber shouted back, her violet eyes seething and her face turning a dark red that rivaled the curls on her head.

“No fighting,” Ms. Dale ordered sternly. Amber scowled, then returned her attention to the back window, muttering under her breath. Ms. Dale shook her head, her braid bouncing against her neck, and reached up to steady herself with a hand against the ceiling as the back of the bay rattled and weaved wildly under Thomas’ erratic driving.

Once again, we were going to be lucky if we made it out of this alive.

“We have to lose them soon,” Ms. Dale said. “Or else we’re going to have to miss the rendezvous back at the farmhouse we burned. We can’t bring these people down on the rest of our base.”

I knew no other way to respond except for leaning out of the passenger-side window, using my knee as a brace against the door. The sharp night wind whipped at my face as I looked back at our pursuers in their grimy Matrian combat vehicle. They would be unable to see any faces through the ambulance’s rear windshield due to the glare of their lights—which was probably for the better, all things considered. I sighted down the barrel of the gun in my hand and exhaled, squeezing the trigger three times.

It didn’t help much. The bullets ricocheted off the heavily armored vehicle, the noise of their impact swallowed by the rattle of the wheels on the dirt road and the coughing roar of engines. The driver of the other vehicle swerved away, though not before one of their headlights shattered.

It was barely a victory, considering the bullets I’d lost, but it was the most damage we had done to their vehicle thus far.

Pulling back in, I fell back down onto the seat and ejected the magazine of my gun. “I’m out,” I shouted, irritation churning my stomach. “Anyone got anything?”

“I’ve got three left, one in the chamber,” Amber announced.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve got nothing,” added Jeff, his thick mustache twitching in displeasure.

“I’m out too.” Cad made an effort to eject his magazine, as if he could manifest more bullets in doing so, and I couldn’t blame him. Even I wanted to double check the clip, just in case I had gone completely blind in the last thirty seconds.

“Sorry, my friend,” Cruz said cheerfully. “But I used all the bullets in that rifle on the last vehicle.”

That had been the first of our pursuers, evidence of our messy exit from the city. We’d made it to the checkpoint at one of the larger arteries to and from the city, pulling slowly through the barrier just as the order had come down to stop any vehicles attempting to leave the city. In fact, as luck would have it, we had been right next to the warden in charge as she’d received the order. All it had taken was a look from me to Thomas, and he had gunned the ambulance’s engine, getting us out of there before they could stop us.

The vehicle Cruz was referring to, the first of three to come after us, had caught up with us almost immediately and opened fire. We had returned the gesture, and ultimately, it was Ms. Dale who had saved us by managing to take out the tires. Then all it had taken was for Thomas to swerve around a sharp dip in the road—we’d gone left, and they’d gone up and over the side, into the steep irrigation ditch that ran alongside the road.

“I’ve got two left in this clip,” Ms. Dale said, shaking her head. She looked at me, her eyes flat and hard. “We have five bullets between us. Any thoughts?”

The roar of the engine in the truck behind us grew louder, and I strained over to see the thing hurtling up on Thomas’ side. I recognized the maneuver. Whoever their driver was, it was clear she was both skilled and confident. She was attempting to hook the rear corner of our vehicle with her own, probably just trying to nudge it slightly. But a nudge at this speed…

I shuddered, suddenly longing for my motorcycle—in this case, it would be far safer and way more nimble than the hulking box of a vehicle we had ‘borrowed’ from the emergency response team earlier that day.

“Thomas,” I said, tension making my voice tight. “They’re—”