“Sarge…” The voice was weak, soft. But it told Hargraves all he needed to know. The Marine was still alive.

The sergeant turned his head, looking all around. He could hear the sounds of enemy soldiers moving forward, but none near him. The Marines had put up a fierce fight, and it seemed their attackers were moving cautiously.

“Alright, Rich, this is probably gonna hurt like fuck, but we ain’t got no choice right now. Try not to scream, eh? You’ll just lead them right to us.”

He reached his arm under his comrade, pulling hard and pushing his head under Garavick’s shoulder. He couldn’t carry the Marine, not without standing up and making a perfect target of both of them. But he could help the wounded man crawl. If they could get a few hundred meters, the scrub became a lot taller and rougher…perhaps even enough to hide them.

He pulled hard, and Garavick winced, biting down, clearly struggling with the scream that wanted to burst from his lips.

“Hold it together, Rich. I know it hurts, buddy.”

Hargraves staggered forward, his knees driving painfully into the rocky ground. Garavick wasn’t the largest man in the platoon—thank God!—but he wasn’t light either. It was all Hargraves could manage to move them both. He wanted to rest, to take a breath. But there wasn’t time. It would be a miracle if they got away. If he stopped, whatever small chance they had would turn to zero.

He rasped in a deep breath, lurching forward again. Garavick let out a soft whimper, but he held back the cry of pain.

“Hang on, Rich…just hang on for me man.”

Hargraves took another breath. Then he lurched ahead. Another half meter. That much closer to cover.

But he could hear the troopers behind him, closing.

He kept pushing, but he knew the hard truth. They weren’t going to make it.

*   *   *

Tomas Rivera was scared. He was so profoundly fucking terrified it took all he had to keep himself from dropping to his knees and emptying his stomach. But he knew he had to keep moving. The refinery was just ahead, and he’d be damned if he’d let whoever the hell invaded Santis get what they had come for. He might not be a Marine, but he understood what an enemy was. And if all he had left was defiance and spite, then those would have to do.

“Let’s go, guys. The sooner we plant these explosives, the quicker we’re out of here.” He was struggling to control the shivering. He and his companions were wet from the waist down, their soaked pants already starting to freeze around their legs. They’d only had to move a few dozen meters through the almost-frozen water, but Rivera couldn’t remember anything so painful.