“Reggie,” he put a hand on the journalist’s shoulder. The two men locked eyes, and Manny tried to force all the fear out of his voice, “When I say so, run. Very fast. Straight toward that white jeep. Understood?”

The Brit brought a hand to his dislocated shoulder and winced in intense pain. But then looked back to Manny and let out a sharp sigh.

“Fuckin’, alright. Shit. Yeah.”

Manny took that as a yes. He glanced back at the firefight in the field. The “fire” part was literal now. At least a full acre was aflame. The smoke seemed to have interfered with the drone sensors. That was probably the only reason their last two escorts had stayed unfucked for so long. Manny watched in horror as large beetle-black drone buzzed down low and opened up with a machine gun. He saw bursts of red as the rounds tore into the escort’s gunner and flung him off the truck’s bed.

“Time to go!” Manny slapped Reggie’s uninjured shoulder and sprinted as fast as his janky ankle could carry him. It was increasingly obvious that his leg was supremely fucked. The middle of Manny’s back itched the whole run, in anticipation of a bullet. That peculiar sense was even louder than the pain.

They reached the jeep. Manny went for the driver’s side door, pulled it open, and jerked back as the soupy remains of a pulped human being oozed out onto the asphalt. He heard Reggie start to retch behind him.

It was fucked in there, for sure. The man—he was sorta sure it had been a man—had taken a couple rounds from a very large weapon. Manny guessed they’d been .50 caliber mass-reactive bolts because the impact had torn the man apart. He wasn’t sure if additional rounds, or bone shrapnel, had hit the two kids in the back seat. But they were all exceptionally dead.

Manny pulled his shirt off and did his best to wipe the corpse from as much of the seat as possible. He hopped in and glanced over to the journalist. Reggie retched outside.

“Hey, get the fuck in! We don’t got all–”

A concussive blast echoed from the field. That was one more escort down. The fight was as good as over. Manny felt a tinge of panic rise up in the base of his spine. Reggie still hesitated.

“Dude, either deal with some gore on your clothes or stay here and die. Your choice.”

The Brit snapped out of it, went for the passenger door and hopped inside. Manny wasn’t a great driver, or even a very good one. But this was a simple vehicle and he was blessed with the motivation of not wanting to die. He turned the car back on and the engine woke up with a rich electronic hum. The fixer flipped the vehicle into drive and gunned for the treeline.