The Gender War (The Gender Game #4)(30)

Violet gave a deep sigh—one of eternal patience—and then stepped back, following Jay into the gray hallway ahead.





12





Violet





All the guards we had seen when we first came into the corridor were dead or dying—blood pooling around them from numerous wounds. I shot a condemning look at Amber, but she scowled back, completely unbothered by my disapproval. Still, their sad fate didn’t stop me from scavenging a pistol, a loaded handgun, and some extra ammunition.

There were more weapons lying around, and others in the group who had been frisked before coming into the tunnel outfitted themselves as well. A little uncomfortable shock ran through me at the sight of my brother holding a pistol in his hand. I opened my mouth to say something, but quickly shut it again when I realized he was going to need it, whether I liked it or not.

Viggo was at the door to the tunnel, his hand on the knob, naturally taking charge. “The truck we’re taking is across the tunnel from us, in a parking space behind a concrete barrier. I’ll go first, followed by Ms. Dale, Violet, and Henrik. We’ll take up positions around the truck and give covering fire to Jay and the king. Jay, get the king in the back and stay low. Owen, Amber, Quinn, and Tim, you’re with them. Your first priority is getting the king to safety. It looked like there was a lot of construction debris in the tunnel, so remember, there could be guards anywhere.”

We nodded, and I pushed past everyone to line up against one wall, between Henrik and Ms. Dale, taking a moment to raise my gun and click off the safety. Viggo looked at us steadily, watching the rest of the group line up against the wall on the other side of the door, waiting in silence for everyone to be ready. As soon as we were, he swung open the door and peered out, the two groups of us lining the walls on either side.

The tunnel was quiet for a moment. From my position I could just see the bodies of more guards strewn about the steps we had gone up, an abandoned escort vehicle sitting in the middle of the two clear lanes we would have to cross. Amber’s group had certainly left destruction in their wake.

And then, just as Viggo was about to step through the door, a burst of gunfire bombarded the doorway, bullets thudding into the wall across from our group. If any one of us had been standing in the doorway, we’d have been dead.

Owen, who was closest to the door on the side opposite me, peeked out and shouted over the gunfire, “Looks like they barricaded this side of the tunnel!”

Viggo swore. “It’s gotta be the rest of the king’s guard. Plan’s still the same. Take cover in the construction zone, and then cross the lanes when they have to reload.”

During a momentary pause in the shooting coming toward us from the left, he leaned out and returned fire, and I heard somebody shout from the tunnel.

“First group!” Viggo yelled. “Let’s go!”

And then we were running out down the stairs, hopping over the bodies of dead guards. I pointed the pistol in my left hand wildly and pulled the trigger, barely even looking—I was such a bad shot with my left hand that it hardly mattered. I dipped and weaved through the construction debris, bullets zinging around me, and before I knew it my feet were on the pavement and I darted behind the escort vehicle to catch my breath.

I looked around and realized I’d made it closer than anyone I could see—Ms. Dale and Henrik had peeled off to take up defensible positions in the construction zone. I didn’t know where Viggo was. I could see that Ms. Dale was in the worst position to defend herself, ducked down behind a couple of overturned signs at an angle that would make her easy to hit.

Now that I was in the middle of the tunnel, I could see the whole scene in the tunnel’s eerie yellow light. Along the low metal barriers the king’s guard had set up, men crouched low, firing in bursts. As I watched, a guard popped up and fired at Ms. Dale’s vulnerable position.

She ducked down low, caught my eye, and gave me a signal—covering fire. I leaned out over the hood of the vehicle I hid behind, unloading several rounds in the direction of the shooters. They ducked, and Ms. Dale immediately leapt over the pile of signs, heading for Henrik’s position behind a sand barrel, closer to me. But then one guard stood and began unloading at her as she ran.

One shot hit close enough to her that she recoiled and lost her footing, going down in a tumble and barely managing to roll to her knees—with her gun still on the ground. I fired wildly toward her attacker, cursing my left hand, as the guard sighted in on her—and then Henrik was standing over her, his legs splayed as he fired with straight and true aim.

The guard’s body jerked with the impact of the bullets, and he dropped to the ground.

“MOVE!” I heard Viggo’s voice bellowing from across the tunnel. Amidst all the chaos, I was glad to hear Samuel barking from where we’d left him in the cab, confirming that Viggo, at least, had made it to the truck.

I scrambled to my feet and unloaded round after round, expending the magazine as I crossed the empty lane and entered the construction zone the truck was in. I crouched behind a piece of debris to reload. It was awkward—a spike of pain pulsed through my right hand when I tried to slap the cartridge in, so I wound up pressing the gun down on my knee until I felt it click, locking into place.

I silently thanked Ms. Dale and Henrik, who had moved closer and were firing round after round in the direction of two guards who were hiding behind their partially constructed barricade. Under their cover, I vaulted the short concrete barrier between us and the truck, pulled my gun back up, and angled fire toward the attackers. Quinn, Amber, and Owen ran across the pavement, flanking Jay and Tim—the king still thrown limply over Jay’s shoulder. I heard Maxen grunt, and flinched when I heard what I could only presume to be the king’s body landing hard in the back of the truck.