Steadfast: Prison Breaker Book 4 by Georgia Wagner

Author:Georgia Wagner [Wagner, Georgia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-05-10T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Someone had raised the bridge a second time.

And now, across it, as lava streamed from the chutes and rails, Preacher followed me. He'd abandoned cover to sprint across the bridge, carrying the icebox like a riot shield.

Already, impact had dented the front of the metal chest. Another crack, and Preacher grunted, stumbling in the center of the bridge. This time, a piece of the icebox had been blasted off. Preacher flung himself to the ground on top of the bridge using the far banister for cover.

My heart crawled into my throat and I stared helplessly.

Preacher ducked behind the banister while still crouched on top of the bridge, looking pointedly in my direction. He patted the jutting rail of marble and then pointed at his feet which were still placed on solid ground.

My eyes narrowed despite myself.

I supposed he did have a point. I would have had just as much cover if I'd stayed on the bridge and used the far banister instead of nearly flinging myself into a lava river and monkey-barring myself across.

Preacher pointed again towards the bridge and then his feet just to make sure I got the point. Then, lowering the ice box he signed at me. His fingers formed a V, and he whacked the back of his forehead.

The sign for stupid.

I flashed a less becoming, but universally understood gesture, with my off hand.

But I didn't maintain it long, preferring to grip the windowsill again and begin hoisting myself up. Preacher, like me, was drawing fire, keeping the others on the wooden car safe. I wished he'd stayed behind, but there was no time to discuss.

I tilted my head, teeth pressed, staring up at the domed glass above. I couldn't see the sniper from my position, but I double-checked the mental snapshot, locating the muzzle flash once more.

At the very top—second window on the left, beneath the curving, ovalesque ceiling.

Still, reaching the attacker would be difficult. The windows around me were sealed. I needed a way into the observatory. The train tracks rattled as we continued our circuit around the city. The warmth of the air wafted against my already sweaty skin and the scent of ash and oil lingered.

Suddenly, an idea struck me. The three-story mansion with the second sniper was on the same track as ours, four houses down. I was close enough to extend my thoughts.

Now, shimmying along the windowsill, I braced myself against the sleek face of the structure. Once I was certain I had a firm grip, I extended my thoughts, reaching for the mind of the second sniper in the mansion.

It was like swimming against the current. The moment I engaged the Wit, the echoing screeches flooded in, even louder now than they'd been on the outskirts. I grit my teeth, braced against the sudden deluge of screaming.

But I pressed on regardless, like an encumbered soul wading through thrashing waves, moving against the surf.

I pushed through the screams, the echo of the agonized city, desperately searching for the mind in the mansion.

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