Page 4 of Surge
Was the guy dead? Garrett moved in to check?—
A hand slapped his chest—Zim’s. “Masks!”
The shout was enough to jack Garrett’s heart into his throat. He snatched his chemical mask and stuffed it on, quickly securing the straps. He gave Zim a nod of thanks, then glanced back to the team.
King backed down the hall to the stairs, grabbing his mask off his belt, Brooks doing the same.
Backstepping, Garrett aimed for the stairs and eyed Tsunami and Samwise. “Eagle One, this is Bear. Possible chemical agent. Samwise and Tsunami down. Local male down.”
“Copy that, Bear. Advise immediate exfil and head to rendezvous site.”
“Good copy, Eagle One.” Garrett darted into the invisible chemical fog and caught Samwise’s drag strap. Hauled him back.
Zim shifted a now-limp Tsunami around his shoulders and snagged the man’s odd device and started to exfil.
Hiking Samwise onto his shoulders, Garrett hoofed it down the suddenly cold hall. The floor shifted—and he collided with the wall. Oh no. Dizziness. He’d been infected! A fog edged into his mind, but he forced himself on, away from the bitter almond smell. “Charlie team, clear out!”
Ahead, Zim began stumbling.
Garrett hooked his arm up around the nerd and shoved them both down the hall toward the stairs.
At the stairs, Zim whispered, “I’m okay now, Boss.”
Taking in the area, Garrett wondered about that scent. Where’d that come from? Didn’t matter. Men were down, the dog was down. Samwise’s weight made him take care as he hustled to the first level and rushed out the front door, where the team waited. He rolled his shoulder, releasing Samwise into the capable hands of the corpsman. “Chemical. Passed out.” They laid him out and Garrett shifted aside.
Brooks went to a knee, bent over Samwise. “Unconscious. Breaths are light and fast. Pulse is normal.” He huffed. “We need to get him to Lemonnier and their medical team. And a decon team for all five of you, considering that chemical effect.”
“How’s Tsunami?” Garrett asked.
“Same.”
He turned and spied Zim still up and moving. Then he took a long draught from his CamelBak and caught one corner of the tactical litter Brooks had deployed.
“Chopper’s en route to rendezvous,” Zim announced.
“Let’s go,” Garrett called as they quick-stepped through the shadows with King bringing up the rear, monitoring their six.
Hoofing it through the city, they stayed alert, grateful for no contact. And for the helo waiting for them once they reached the beach extraction point. They slid the litter onto the deck and climbed in. The chopper lifted and whisked them away from the site.
Grateful his dizziness had faded, Garrett glanced at his swim buddy next to him. Something about the way Samwise was lying there, unmoving . . . “Sam!” Garrett lunged. Checked for breathing—nothing. Shoved two fingers against his buddy’s throat—again, nothing! “Sam, c’mon!” He dropped to his knees and began CPR.
From the back, Brooks counted out loud to keep him steady. “Check his pulse.”
Garrett did. “Nothing!” And he started CPR again.
“One man down, chemical inhalation. Unknown agent,” King comm’d, shouting above the rotor noise. “Not breathing, no pulse. En route, three mikes out.”
Garrett kept up the rhythmic presses on Sam’s chest. “Live for Catherine, Samwise. Catherine!” he yelled over the chopper noise.
“Check pulse,” Brooks said again.
“Nothing!” Despite the pronouncement, they kept working. Compressions. Breath. Compressions. Breath.
Garrett bit back a curse as they landed at Lemonnier hospital. A medical team swept forward and set Sam’s litter on a gurney. A doctor climbed on and continued resuscitation efforts as they rushed into the facility. Brooks followed, providing Sam’s medical status info.
Garrett pounded the side of the helo, then spotted a team loading Tsunami onto a gurney. He rushed over to her.
“Animal hospital. Now!” a corpsman barked.