A broken slat caught Ford by surprise. Stumbling, he accidentally smacked the barrel of his rifle against an upright safety rail. The impact knocked the flashlight from its holder and it plummeted down through the irregular slats. It spun down into the mist like a falling star.

Damn.

* * *

Brubaker jumped as a falling flashlight smacked into the rocky shore of the river, many feet below the bridge. Waltz didn’t blame the young rifleman for being scared, given the circumstances, but the master sergeant’s face remained stern and unmoving. Chances were, either Brody or Morales had just lost their flashlights for some reason. It was annoying, but if that was the biggest snafu they ran into on this mission he’d count himself lucky. All that mattered now was keeping the missile train going, so that the brass got their nukes—before the MUTO did.

Descending to the bottom of the gorge, they reached the riverbed. White water surged over nearby rapids while the rocks beneath their feet had been worn smooth by flooding waters. Waltz turned back to look in the direction of the bridge, whose iron supports were half hidden by the mist, which was even thicker here down by the river. He scowled as he spotted a dim light flickering further upstream, growing brighter by the second.

What the—?

Flaming wreckage, including mangled helicopters, tanks, jeeps, drones and bodies, came rushing over the rapids. Burning fuel and incendiary gel blazed atop the flowing water, spilling onto the narrow shore. Waltz and Brubaker dived for cover to get out of the way of the blazing debris. They scrambled up the slope to get to safety, dodging the fiery remnants of his fellow soldiers’ lost battle.

* * *

Something was crashing loudly against the rocks below. Peering over the edge of the bridge, Ford and Tre could make out a red-hot glow through the mist and murk. For a moment, Ford expected to hear the blood-chilling howl of a MUTO but, if this was a monster attack, why weren’t Waltz and Brubaker firing their weapons?

Concerned, he whistled once. A tense moment followed before he heard an answering whistle from below. He let out a sigh of relief, as did Tre. It was good to know that the rest of their team had not run into serious trouble. At least, not yet.

Confident that Waltz and Brubaker did not require immediate reinforcements, Ford and Tre continued to make their way across the battle-scarred bridge. The thickening haze and uncertainty made every step a definite test of nerves, but at last the wooded mountain ridge on the far side of the gorge came into view. The two soldiers grinned at each other, encouraged by the sight. Although battered, the bridge was still in one piece. The train could keep going.

Almost giddy with relief, Tre wasted no time notifying the locomotive driver.

“All clear,” he said into the radio. “I say again, all clear.”