Page 22 of Alpha Fate
We move swiftly and silently through the pre-dawn darkness, sticking to the shadows cast by dilapidated buildings and rusting machinery. This was once a thriving industrial area, but now it’s a wasteland of abandoned factories and forgotten dreams.
Jagger leads the way, his senses alert for any sign of danger. The rest of us fan out behind him in standard formation, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Tarkin and Barrett flank me, their footsteps muffled on the cracked concrete.
“So, Callum’s info better be solid,” Tarkin mutters, glancing around warily. “Last thing we need is to walk into an ambush.”
“When has my intel ever been wrong?” Callum comes up behind him.
“There’s a first time for everything,” Barrett responds.
“Screw you,” Callum responds. “I worked that Leadmills bastard like a pro. He was babbling like a brook by the time I’d finished with him.”
“Yeah. Sure. A man will say whatever he has to if he thinks it’ll save him.” Barrett is relentless. It’s the same quality that makes him so formidable on the battlefield, but it can be a pain in the ass to deal with day to day.
“Time will tell,” says Callum.
“If you’re wrong, I’m throwing in my hat for team leader.” Barrett’s challenge comes as no surprise. The asshole steps up to Callum at least once a month. When we get back, there’ll be a showdown, and Callum will win again. He always does. Barrett’s hard and mean, but our team leader’s smart.
As the hours pass, I tune out their bickering, focusing on the task ahead. According to Callum, there’s an old sewage tunnel that will get us close to the compound where Savannah is being held. Risky, but it’s our best chance of getting in undetected.
When we pass the hulking carcass of an old steel mill, I spot Jagger signaling up ahead. He’s found the tunnel entrance. I feel a flare of anticipation in my gut. We’re getting close now.
Jagger waves Callum forward, and they confer in hushed tones. After a while, Callum turns back to us. “Alright, this is it. The tunnel should take us within a quarter mile of the compound. Stay alert and move quiet once we’re inside. No telling what might be lurking down there.”
He pulls the grate aside with a rusty screech that makes us all wince. I scan the surrounding area, but nothing stirs. One by one, we slip into the yawning darkness of the tunnel.
The smell hits me first – dank, fetid water, underlaid with the sickly-sweet stench of decay. To a human, it would be overwhelming; my heightened wolf senses make it almost intolerable. I swallow down bile and blink, willing my eyes to adjust. Rough brick walls glisten with moisture, and our footfalls echo eerily off the curved ceiling.
We make our way through the gloom, senses strained for any sign of movement. But the tunnel is still and silent as a tomb. Even Tarkin and Barrett have fallen quiet, the atmosphere oppressive.
Up ahead, Jagger raises a clenched fist, signaling a halt. He tilts his head, listening intently. I freeze, every muscle coiled and ready. For several heartbeats, there’s only the steady plink of water and our own muted breathing.
Then Jagger relaxes and gestures us forward. A false alarm. I let out a slow breath, forcing my racing pulse to steady. Can’t lose focus now.
The tunnel seems to stretch on endlessly. But finally, Callum murmurs that we’re getting close. I glance back at the others, their faces set with determination.
We’re almost at the exit when Tarkin curses under his breath. I glance over to see him gingerly lifting his boot. A thin metal wire is stretched taut across the tunnel floor, glinting wickedly in the dim light.
“Tripwire,” he mutters. “We must have tripped a silent alarm.”
Jagger scowls. “Trap. They were expecting us.”
“What now?” Barrett asks gruffly. “We turn back?”
“No.” Jagger’s voice brokers no argument. “We keep going. But stay alert for more traps.”
We advance with greater caution, scanning the ground and walls for any sign of triggers or wires. The tunnel remains clear for several tense minutes. Then Casey hisses a warning from up ahead.
She’s crouched by what looks like a small metal box attached to the wall. A bundle of wires trails from it into the shadows. Definitely not part of the original tunnel design.
“Proximity detonator,” she says grimly. “We get within a couple of feet, it’ll blow sky high.”
Jagger studies it, lips pressed into a thin line. If we can’t pass it safely, we’ll have to turn back. After coming this far, that’s not an option I’m willing to entertain.
“Can we disarm it?” Tarkin asks.
Casey shakes her head. “Not without setting it off. I’d need proper tools, more time.”
Barrett scowls, flexing his hands. “Then we smash the damn thing. Set it off from a distance.”