Page 7 of Final Sins

Gravy made a sound. “Creative. Right. ‘Cause that always works out so well for me.”

Despite the pain and the gravity of their situation, Jason forced a grin. Keeping Gravy calm was priority one. Or two. Whatever. A high priority. “Hey, we’re still breathing, aren’t we?”

“Barely,” Gravy muttered.

“Better than not at all.”

“I guess.”

He leaned his head back, allowing himself a moment of rest. They had a long night ahead, and he needed to conserve his strength, but his mind raced, replaying the attack at the airfield. Something didn’t add up.

“Hey, Grav.” He broke the tense silence. “Don’t you think it’s weird we haven’t seen any pursuit?”

Gravy’s brow furrowed. “Sure. Totally. Those punks had us pinned down pretty good back there.”

“Exactly.” He scanned the darkening road ahead. “So why not give chase?”

“Maybe we lost ‘em?” Gravy’s tone was hopeful, but unconvincing.

He shook his head. “Not likely. If they’ve got even half the tech we had in the army ...”

“We’re toast,” Gravy finished, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel.

“You know these roads pretty well, right?” Jason asked, an idea forming.

“Like the back of my hand. Used to go hunting up here with my grandpa. Dad was always on deployment, or whatever.”

“Good. Take the next logging road you see. We need to get off this highway.”

“But the meet up spot?—”

“We’ll figure that out later,” Jason cut him off. “Right now, we need to disappear.”

Gravy nodded grimly, his eyes searching the roadside. A few minutes later, he jerked the wheel, sending them bumping onto a narrow dirt track barely visible in the gloom.

The immediate danger might be less than he’d feared, but that only raised more questions. Whatever game their attackers were playing, he had a sinking feeling they were several moves behind.

He squinted through the encroaching darkness at the looming canyon ahead. The massive peaks on either side were barely visible, ominous silhouettes against the indigo sky. They’d lose cell service soon.

He held out his hand to Gravy. “Give me your burner phone.”

Gravy fumbled in his pocket, nearly swerving off the narrow logging road before extracting the device. “Here. But we’re only supposed to use it if we have an emergency.”

“This counts.”

Jason’s fingers flew over the keypad, composing a terse message.

On route to extraction pt. Running late. Will be on scene by 2100.

The response came swiftly, each word dripping with irritation.

Not okay. U were only to contact this number once. Bye. Bye.

Seriously? Jason fisted his free hand, picturing himself squeezing the life out of the unfeeling desk jockey on the other end of the line. He typed faster now.

Situation urgent. Ran into hostiles. Losing them now.

Will be at extraction pt. at 2100.