Marnie left without saying a word, so he decided not to pursue it. Devin followed and crouched next to her in the gap between cabins, rifles pointed toward the center of camp, as Rich rejoined his team on the dirt path. Mike softly shut the cabin door and paused at the top of the wooden stoop. Marnie scooted behind Devin in a hurry, stopping at the foot of the stairs.

“Did you hear it, too?” she asked.

Mike remained almost perfectly still, his head slowly canting to the side as though he was listening intently for something.

“What did you—”

Then Devin heard it. Just for a few seconds. A distant, deep rhythmic thumping sound that faded in and out. Mike turned to them.

“Take cover behind the cabin,” he said before hopping down from the stoop. “There’s an airport nearby. Probably the last flight out of—”

Muzzle flashes erupted from the center of camp, bullets snapping overhead and thunking into the cabins—along with the sharp crackle of automatic gunfire. Marnie yanked Devin behind the cabin, moments before gunfire sliced through the space he’d just occupied. Mike slammed to the ground next to him, a few feet beyond the corner of the cabin. Devin leaned out and grabbed one of his shoulder straps with both hands, hauling him out of the line of fire.

Mike was in bad shape, clutching his throat and cycling his legs wildly. Devin raised his night vision goggles and went in for a closer look, warm blood spraying his face. Mike’s hands were soaked, blood pumping through his fingers. Devin triggered his radio.

“Mike’s down. Hit in the neck,” he said. “It looks really bad.”

“Copy that. Emily will be there in a second,” said Rich.

“You got this?” asked Marnie, moving to the corner of the cabin.

“Yeah,” he said, trying to move Mike’s hands to get a better look.

He couldn’t budge them. Marnie crouched low and fired a few sustained bursts toward the center of camp. She ducked back as bullets splintered the corner above her head and slapped into the cabin behind them. A dark figure appeared behind the middle cabin, racing in their direction.

“Emily’s inbound! Give her some cover fire!” said Devin.

Marnie emptied the rifle magazine as Emily sprinted across the gap. The operative stumbled halfway, losing control of her forward momentum and crashing next to Mike.

“Shit!” Emily said, pounding the ground several times with a fist and groaning.

“You okay?” said Devin.

“I’m fine,” she said, immediately going to work on Mike. “Bullet zipped my leg.”

If anyone on the team could help him, it would be her. She’d stitched up Devin’s shin wound like a practiced surgeon.

“Help me move his hands,” she said, straddling Mike.