Desmond stood in awe of her skill and poise. With barely a sound, she pulled the man clear of the door and readied her rifle.

The other footsteps continued moving away, their echo growing fainter by the second.

Avery withdrew the blade from the man’s neck with a sickening sucking sound, wiped it on his chest, and re-sheathed it. Still crouched, she moved deeper into the room and whispered to Peyton and Hannah.

“Let’s move.” To Desmond she said, “I’ll lead. They follow, you bring up the rear. Keep them moving.”

Avery was through the door a second later. Peyton wrapped Hannah’s good arm over her shoulder and pulled her up. Both women stared, mouths open at the sight of the dead man, but kept moving.

Desmond stood guard while they raced down the corridor, following Avery to the stairwell, which was lit with emergency lights similar to those in the medical section.

Avery stopped on the landing, listening.

Voices echoed above and below, bouncing off the metal walls. Desmond didn’t know if he was hearing twenty or a hundred voices, only that there were too many for them to slip past, and certainly too many for them to fight.

Avery set down her backpack, drew out a gas mask, and handed it to Desmond.

“Put this on. Stay here, then follow my lead.”

She raced up the stairs. But no gas came. No shots were fired. He heard Avery’s voice ring out, echoing through the stairwell with strength and authority.

“Corporal. I have the prisoners in my custody. I need your help securing them.”

Chapter 61

Chapter 61

Peyton’s expression said what Desmond feared: She’s betrayed us. He had harbored that fear ever since Avery had freed him from the cell. Whom did she work for? What was her agenda? Why had she freed them?

More discussion above. Avery was arguing with another man now.

“These are McClain’s orders. It’s your funeral, gentlemen. Just stay out of the way.”

More arguing, then Avery leaned over the rail and yelled down, “Johnson, bring ’em up.”

She walked down a few stairs. “Johnson, get your ass up here with those women. We’re ready.”

Desmond finally understood her plan—her very brilliant plan. The look on Peyton’s face told him that she did, too.

Still wearing the gas mask, he motioned for the two physicians to go ahead.

In the patient room, Desmond had been quite worried about whether Hannah could make the trek up the stairs. He was now relieved to see her keeping pace with Peyton. Her legs seemed to get steadier with each step, the sedation wearing off perhaps.

At the landing above, two young soldiers wearing uniforms similar to Avery’s and Desmond’s stood waiting.

“Where’s Hughes?” one asked.

“Hughes is dead,” Avery said flatly.

Their eyes went wide.

“Get going, or we will be too.”

The two men took off up the stairs.