Franks did not know who Mindy was. A muzzle appeared as a rifle was hung around the side. Franks shot that Hunter in the arm before he could accomplish anything useful.

It was momentarily quiet as the Hunters pulled back. Franks holstered the Glock and went back to bending iron bars before the Hunters realized they could simply roll grenades down the pipe. Franks roared and pulled with all of his might. The iron tore free, creating a gap. Franks put his shoulder against it and tried to push through. It was still too tight. He put a hand on the other bar and pushed, bending them further apart.

The Hunters were shouting behind him. There was a plop in the water, followed a few seconds later by an explosion. Tiny bits of hot metal ripped through his back. Water did not compress and the overpressure was extreme inside the narrow concrete confines. Franks could no longer hear anything but a high-pitched ringing noise. Blood was pouring out of his ears and nose. If he’d been human, the pressure alone would have killed him, or at least knocked him out to sink beneath the mud and drown.

They’d dropped that last grenade, hoping for gravity to do their work, but it had not rolled very far down the pipe before going off. They would not make the same mistake again. The next one would be tossed. Franks kept pushing. Blood welled through the palms of his hands. Metal groaned in protest. The gap was wider. Franks shoved himself against it, but the pouches of his vest caught. He backed up and unbuckled it, just in time to catch the splash of the next grenade out of the corner of his eye.

Franks shrugged out of the vest and squeezed through the gap. He still left a lot of skin on the rusty metal, but he was through. The pipe on this side was slick, open, and angled more steeply, so Franks let himself drop. The grenade went off above him, but Franks was already careening down through the darkness.

The pipe ended, and he was falling. It was a twenty-foot drop but into water. As soon as he hit, Franks angled himself down and started swimming. Salt water. Current. He’d reached the ocean. He didn’t know how deep it was here, but he headed for the silt at the bottom. Franks cursed himself for not knowing how well STFU’s aerial reconnaissance could see through water. He should have learned that . . . They were probably still tracking him, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about that right now. So instead Franks concentrated on catching a ride out.