We’ve got a minute. Probably less before Chinese penetrator rounds flatten us.

  Filson lengthened his stride and pumped his arms harder. He—

  Caught his foot on something in the dark and went airborne.

  This is gonna suck.

  He landed hard on his right shoulder, skidded across the filthy concrete, smashing his knees again, and came to rest against a fallen steel beam.

  He barked in pain again as Hatch yanked him to his feet.

  “We must keep moving, sir.”

  Legs shaky, Filson accelerated. He wobbled, but Hatch caught him.

  “No shit! Point your fucking light to our front, how ‘bout it?”

  “But I am covering our retreat, sir.”

  “No one is following us! They’re—”

  Filson tripped again.

  Hatch caught him, wrenching his shoulder.

  “Goddammit!”

  “I am sor—”

  “Point that fucking light to our front!”

  Hatch swung his rifle, its powerful LED light illuminating the path ahead.

  Filson took a few tentative, limping steps and then started running. Hatch matched him.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “They’re not coming after us.” Filson moved faster now that he could see, skipping side to side over debris. “They are working up a fire mission to bury us.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  A dim light snapped on about a hundred meters to their front. It was McGowan. The tall first sergeant stood with one arm against the tunnel wall.

  Anxiety surged in Filson. So close to escaping, doom seemed certain. With each sprinting step, he expected the penetrating artillery rounds to burst through the ceiling, rip them to pieces, and drop the tunnel—their remains never to be recovered.

  “So fucking glad you could join us,” McGowan yelled as Filson and Hatch drew near.

  “Mauricio…. Said fifty…. Meters,” Filson said between gasps. He skidded to a stop in front of McGowan, hands on his bloody knees.

  “Yeah, the group almost kicked his ass when we got here. Now, shut the hell up, sir, and let’s go!”

  Filson looked up, hands still on his knees. He noticed the short opening in the wall next to the first sergeant. Maybe five feet tall, and just as wide, dark slime glistened on its edges. Standing, Filson looked around and then back at McGowan.

  “Where are the Maulers and Centaur battlesuits?”

  “I sent them on. I wanted to get that big blob of metal signature far away as quickly as possible. Told them to run and don’t stop. Radios full blast. They should be lighting up the PLA tactical map. Now let’s fucking go, sir.”

  McGowan pointed at the dark opening.

  “You first,” Filson said.

  “Don’t—”

  “Go, Top. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “If you’re not, I’m kicking your ass for real this time.” He handed Filson a small object. “That’s the detonator for the last of Mauricio’s charges. Press that button three times to blow ‘em. Hopefully, that will seal us off well enough.”

  Filson nodded as the first sergeant turned and bent his tall body over to squeeze into the cramped passageway. He vanished into the shadows.

  Filson looked at Hatch. The glare from his rifle LED highlighted the black, slanting shadow of the scar on the soldierbot’s face.

  “You’re next, Hatch.” Filson gestured at the faithful Mauler and then at the passageway. “Let’s go.”

  Hatch turned his head to look down the tunnel and then back at Filson.

  “But I am supposed to go with the decoy force, sir.”

  “They’re already gone. Doing their job. No reason for you to get your ass blown up with them. Let’s go!” Placing a hand on the robot’s shoulder, Filson pushed him toward the passageway.

  Hatch resisted.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Filson said. “I am—”

  “I led them here, sir.” Hatch turned his head slowly, pointing his multi-spectral sensors into the dark tunnel his Maulers had run down. “If I can’t get them out, I think I should stay with them.”