Laurels Literary Magazine Spring 2015 | Page 80

—What are you—?” of naked eye visual, tell Ebon and Jaig to come as close to the tree line as they can without being spotted.” She paused. “When you see the target—Cato—when you see him, one of you has to take him out. This is our only chance.” The wind suddenly picked up, and Watney scampered down the valley toward the tree line. Surrich had barely the foggiest idea of what she had in mind. She was rarely so reckless—she was —but rarely reckless. Running toward the tree line, not before the enemy patrol unit stumbled over Ebon and Jaig. “REPUBLIC,” Surrich called out. “You still with me? Hold tight, we—” He heard a gunshot. Surrich felt his heart sink into his stomach. They were too late. He bowed his head, the empty slot where his visor would from his breath. Upon inhalation, he felt the cold crawl through his veins. the once pale sky in vibrant reds and fading pinks. In his helmet, he heard Ebon call out again. “SPECTRE, come in.” Frantically, Surrich replied, “REPUBLIC, status report.” Surrich jammed his scope up to his eye and locked on to the four patrolmen. Two of them abandoned the patrol and Watchtower Two, then One, Three, and Four. The occupants within [69] Z