Dark Shadows by Evan Graver

Dark Shadows by Evan Graver

Author:Evan Graver [Graver, Evan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Third Reef Publishing, LLC
Published: 2019-04-06T04:00:00+00:00


Chapter Twenty-Five

An alarm screamed. Ryan ran toward a door and banged into it with his shoulder. The push bar slammed open, but the door didn’t move. He hit it again and again.

Behind him, a sheet of flame burned, racing toward him along the walls, floor, and ceiling. Beyond the walls, he could hear the whistle of incoming mortars and rockets. Shrieks of scared and dying men blended with the return gunfire and the sounds of tanks flinging their heavy projectiles across the sky. The warning continued to blare, signaling for the EOD team to rally for bomb disposal. Somewhere out there, a team needed him, but the damned door wouldn’t open.

He cried out in frustration. His body shook and when he glanced at his hands, they were red with blood.

Ryan screamed. He trembled as he fell to his knees, the fire rushing over his body, eating his flesh and his clothes. Still, his skeletal hands remained stained blood red.

A vise-like grip on Ryan’s arm shook him. His eyes snapped open and his back arched, lungs drawing a giant breath, fists swinging. Rick jumped back, barely avoiding Ryan’s thrashing arms.

When Ryan finally came to his senses, Rick said, “That must have been some nightmare.”

Holding his hands up, Ryan stared at them. Satisfied they were no longer covered in blood, he rolled his legs off the bed and sat up. He put his head in his palms, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. He could still feel the heat, the rage, the solidness of the locked door, and the screams of dying men. The dream had been so real and in vivid colors.

“Your phone alarm was going off,” Rick informed him.

Ryan reached for the device. He opened it to the home screen. A warning flashed for the tracker app. The thieves had taken a third container from Colón.

He rubbed his face again. It was eleven p.m. He’d only been asleep for an hour.

“You going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” Ryan answered. “Just a bad dream. You know, the one where you’re in Afghan.”

Rick nodded. Whether he understood or he had similar dreams, Ryan didn’t know. Rick had been an Army officer stationed at Kandahar Air Base. His primary job was analysis, not bomb disposal on the front lines.

Ryan stood and found his sea legs wobblier than normal. Steadying himself with a hand on the wall, he left the bunk room and went forward to the V-berth to find Greg.

“What do you need?” Greg called from the salon.

Ryan climbed the stairs and found Greg with a drink in his hand and a half-empty rum bottle on the island. Ryan found a glass and splashed a finger of rum into it before slamming it back. The alcohol did nothing to calm his post-dream jitters. He rolled his tongue around in his mouth to rid himself of the burn. “Another container just left Colón.”

“Dammit,” Greg said, smacking his glass onto the granite. “Three in one day. I smell a rat.”

“What do you want to do?” Ryan asked, bending to rest his forearms on the island, still feeling dazed by his dream.



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