The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)(91)

Then it was past and I was vaulting over the corner of the car, one hand planted on the trunk as I flew over. I landed roughly on my feet and rolled forward to shed some of the momentum, and then I was running, my boots hitting hard and fast as I raced behind the vehicle. I kept my eyes peeled left, then right, and began firing moments later, managing to hit a woman standing just at the crest of the hill on the left.

The ploy was working, and I heard Tim and Gregory’s guns go off around me as they followed. We pushed the last few feet up the hill, and then the car cut right sharply, just past the last car to make it to the top. I sprinted for it, my breathing coming in sharp gasps as the enemy fired upon us. I hip fired, trading accuracy for intimidation, as we ran.

Just behind the person who’d raced up the hill, the final car’s windows were shattered, and I could see the bullet-riddled body of one of Drew’s men still slumped in the driver’s seat. I made it to the car and threw open the driver-side door, using it for more cover. Gregory followed suit with the door behind me, boxing me in slightly.

Keeping my back to the interior side of the door, I quickly ejected a magazine and inserted a new one. I looked up to see the firelit figures of Matrian forces moving toward us, and leveled my gun at them, this time taking a moment to sight down the barrel.

I caught one woman in the shoulder and neck, and another in the leg and stomach. Both fell onto the pavement, and I exhaled, lowering the gun for a second to wipe the sweat off my forehead, then freezing when I saw a long shadow cutting across the scarlet glow of the still burning fires littering the concourse.

I hesitated, and then fired right through the door, not wanting to risk moving in any direction first. As I squatted higher up, I raised the gun, making sure I had hit her. I ducked back down and ejected the magazine, torn between exhaling in relief that it had worked, or grimacing at the sight of her twitching and gasping for breath as she slowly choked on her own blood.

After a moment’s hesitation, I stood back up and shot her in the head, unable to let her suffer in her last moments. Then I ducked back down.

Static crackled, and then Mags was there in my ear. “Viggo, they’re falling back into the industrial compound!”

“Chase ‘em,” I replied, chambering the round. “But stay close to the main entrance. That’s the goal.”

I shot at a form moving toward the car, and then inched forward around the car door. Several olive-clad women ran for me, and I fired on them, catching the one whose gun was swinging toward me in the chest, and the woman next to her as well. I heard Gregory give a triumphant shout and turned, watching as Alejandro crested the hill, his team by his side. He ran past the car, stopping to fire.

Trusting he knew what he was doing—even though I wanted to scream at him for not seeking cover—I twisted around and stood, looking past the car toward the large circular dome of the plant.

By now, women in Matrian uniforms were making for the entrance in a flat-out run, and I could see some of our lines pressing forward, making for it and using the industrial pipes that cut in, over, and out of the concrete concourse as cover.

“C’mon,” I shouted to Greg and Tim, and moved around the car, running at a slight jog. The car that had led our way sat twenty feet ahead, the engine and hood wrapped around a wide pipe that had once been seated up out of the ground at a ninety-degree angle before joining an L-curve overhead. Water leaked from a bolted seam several feet above, spattering down on the shattered window and crumpled hood.

I angled to move past it when a movement caught my eye, and I rapidly moved toward it instead. I jerked open the door, the remaining glass shattering with the motion and the hinge heaving and groaning. I looked inside, grimacing when I saw Cruz lying on his back on the glass-littered front seat, which had been tilted all the way back, blood streaking from a gouge in his temple, his shoulder bleeding badly through his fingers. The dash of the car had been driven forward and up in the impact, effectively trapping his legs beneath it.

He jerked his gun up, and then relaxed it down when he saw it was me. “Did we make it up the hill?” he asked, his teeth clenched in pain.

I nodded and ducked down. “Let’s get you out of this car,” I said, gripping him under his armpits.

“Wait, no!” he shouted, but I ignored it and jerked him back, slowly dragging him. He grunted in pain as I strained around his bulk.

“How did you even get into that position?” I asked through clenched teeth. “Were you lying on your back when you drove up the hill?”

“I—madre de Dios—my shoulder is shot, pendejo!” He glared up at me, a muscle in his jaw throbbing.

I ignored his snarl and focused on extracting him from the car as quickly as possible. I looked over and noticed Tim had followed me and was covering our position, but Gregory was nowhere to be seen. Good, he was sticking to the mission and getting the door clear. Cruz groaned as I continued to pull on him, his knees sliding free and spilling more glass on the ground.

The gunfire was beginning to dim, and I became aware of radio chatter in my ear. It had been nonstop since the start of battle, but I had lost track of it in the intensity of the fighting in front of me.

“The south entrance is clear,” Ms. Dale said into the main channel. “We’re heading in.”

“I got a group pinned down behind some pipes by the west entrance,” Amber shouted over the din, gunfire blasting in her mic, indicating—I hoped—that she was firing. “But my team is keeping them in place.”