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Back The Utopia Experiment Save as PDF
Chapters (84)
  1. Title Page
  2. Welcome
  3. Prologue
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. Epilogue
  81. About the Authors
  82. The Covert-One Novels
  83. Newsletters
  84. Copyright

Deuce’s weapon had gone silent in an effort to conserve ammunition and the Afghan used the opportunity to squeeze off another round. Randi tensed, but realized she was no longer the target when the bullet impacted less than a meter short of Billy Grant’s right arm. He immediately abandoned his effort to reach his rifle and instead grabbed his blood-soaked thigh in a futile effort to free himself.

There was no question that the Afghan was going to hit him—if not with the next shot, then with the one after that. Randi was only ten meters from her trapped man, but that was ten meters too far in the present situation. And what would she do even if she could reach him? There was no way to free him that didn’t involve at least a shovel and maybe a winch.

The next round was even closer and Grant scooted toward the boulder trapping him, contorting his broken leg into a grotesque shape in an effort to get as close as possible.

“Randi!” she heard Deuce say over her earpiece. “The new toy. Can you use it?”

“It got hit when I was running and I’m not sure I can even lift my head without it getting blown off,” she said, wiggling out of her body armor and holding it up high enough for Grant to see. He looked like he was on the verge of passing out from the pain but managed a dazed nod.

She threw the heavy vest in his direction and it cartwheeled through the air, landing just behind him. He had barely pulled it in front of his chest when a bullet hit dead center, knocking him back with enough force to elicit an audible grunt. He was still alive, though. The multiple layers had absorbed the majority of the impact.

“Deuce!” Randi shouted. “Get me the hell out of here!”

Grant scooted toward the boulder again and tried to make himself as small as possible behind her vest, but there was still plenty of him exposed. And even if that weren’t true, the situation was quickly becoming a disastrous stalemate—a race to see who bled to death first.

“Randi,” she heard Deuce say in her earpiece. “I’m going to draw this guy’s fire. When I do, run.”

“Wait! I didn’t mean—”

He ignored her and sprinted from cover as the Afghan opened up on him. Randi bolted from her position with equal speed, running east before dropping to her stomach at the edge of the debris field.