Joe Hawke 14 Day of the Dead by Rob Jones

Author:Rob Jones
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2019-11-08T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Camacho crawled out of the rubble, profoundly aware of a sharp, shooting pain in his right hand and arm. At first, he feared the worst and thought he had broken something. Squeezing his hand open and closed a few times, he saw he’d gotten away with it and just sprained his wrist when the explosion had smashed him into the wall. Straining his eyes in the smoke-filled room, he prayed the others had been so lucky.

He saw Scarlet first; she was lying face-down in a pile of debris. He crawled over to her, once again fearing the worst. She had been closest to the IED, taking the brunt of the explosion and might have a serious blast injury. Worse, the bomb hadn’t finished its work. As he reached her, still lying motionless in the rubble, one of the display cabinets that had stayed standing now creaked and groaned and lurched forward.

The bomb had torn a good chunk of the cabinet’s base clean away, converting it to matchwood and dispersing it all over the storage room’s floor. The unstable cabinet, full of heavy, jade Aztec death masks, was now toppling over and threatening to crush her where she lay. Images of the ECHO team standing around her grave on Elysium flicked through his mind like a speeded-up film reel, a broken Joe Hawke throwing flowers down on the coffin.

Then she moved. Just her arm, and only the slightest of movements.

Camacho coughed the smoke and dust from his lungs and scanned the chaos as he moved closer to her. He heard Reaper groaning as he got to his feet, then a wild string of profanities in Scarlet’s cut-glass accent. Thank god, he muttered, reaching her.

The cabinet had tipped another ten degrees away from the wall. The death masks had been attached to the rear panel, but the IED had blown some of them loose, and now they started to tumble out of the cabinet and crash down on top of her.

“Cairo!” He hefted her over his shoulders in a hasty fireman’s lift and staggered to where he knew the door was. Halfway across the room he saw Nikolai and Castillo had both gotten to their feet and were trying to gather their thoughts.

As they approached him, Castillo saw it first. “My god, is she all right?”

“She’s cursing so, yeah, I think so,” Camacho said. “But it looks like she might have some burns on her hands.”

“Get my phone!” she whispered in Camacho’s ear. “The explosion knocked it over there.”

He walked over to the phone, crouched with her still on his shoulders, picked up the phone and slid it in his pocket. When they made it to the door, he slipped her off his shoulders and down onto the corridor’s tiled floor. They three of them gathered around her, and Camacho cradled her head in his hands. “Cairo? Can you hear me?”

“Thanks to the very fucking loud whining in my ears, not very well.”

Camacho breathed a sigh of relief. Smart-ass humor meant she was probably going to be okay, but she clearly had a concussion.

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