World at War (Reality Bleed Book 6) by J.Z. Foster & Justin M. Woodward

Author:J.Z. Foster & Justin M. Woodward [Foster, J.Z.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Winter Gate Publishing
Published: 2021-03-29T22:00:00+00:00

Marat was pushed and pulled in a daze, only half aware of what was going on. Someone grabbed him and slapped a bulletproof vest into his hands. He pulled it on as he followed behind the ambassador.

Even now, with the Soviets preparing to storm inside, there were still officers burning paperwork and destroying computers in sparks of electricity and flame. A whole room was on fire, but no one seemed to care. They just threw entire computers into it.

Hart was speaking to people as they went through the office, but in the confusion, Marat didn’t understand a word of it. They continued down stairs—was it two or three flights?—and into a sub basement.

Marat followed like a confused puppy. They stopped in a concrete room, but Marat didn’t notice anything, his mind was too busy spinning. Thoughts of knives, bullets, and blood flooded everything else out.

I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die.

Hart yanked Marat’s hand and thumped something into it.

Marat looked down at his hand with no real comprehension, just a vague understanding of another’s presence near him.

“Hey!” Hart shouted and shook Marat’s shoulders. “Listen!”

The sudden jolt pulled Marat from his thoughts, and he looked up, wide-eyed, to Hart.

“This is a tracker.” Hart pounded a finger onto the device in Marat’s hand.

It was a small, metallic device, something like a thick coin.

Hart spoke slowly in Russian. “If we get separated, someone will find you with this. Understand?” When Marat didn’t respond immediately, Hart shook him again. “Understand?”

Marat nodded. “Yes.”

Still in Russian, he said, “Good. Now follow me, friend.”

With his wits finally about him, Marat surveyed the room. It was cold concrete with shelves filled with cleaning supplies. There was a metal locker on one wall. Hart grabbed one corner of the locker and felt behind it until there was a loud click. “There we go,” he said in English.

Marat stumbled back as the whole locker slowly swung out without even scratching on the floor. It rested on a hinge with a small gap above the floor nearly impossible to see with the naked eye.

The locker revealed a hollowed room with a painted hatch. Hart started to crank it open.

“But—but—but—the others?”

“They all know what to do, friend. You are my mission. They have their own.” Hart groaned and cranked on the hatch.

Somewhere back in the building were gunshots. Marat gasped and hurried over to help Hart. The hatch unsealed, and they pulled it open.

“You first.” Hart pointed, and Marat grabbed onto the ladder and hurried down, looking back to see Hart pull the edge of the locker to seal their entrance.

With the locker closed, all light was cut off. Marat gasped and froze onto the ladder, then Hart cracked a glow stick and dropped it. It hit Marat’s shoulder then fell into a few inches of water.

“Oh shit, I bet that’s going to be disgusting.” Hart grimaced and cracked another glow stick.

“What is this?” Marat asked.

“We dug out a tunnel sometime ago. Somehow it flooded. No idea. We just need to follow it about two hundred meters.

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