hurt…"

Dammit!

David felt his heart skip a beat and he backed up a step, his thoughts racing, a knot of dread in his belly. It had been less than a half-minute since the first shot, but the Umbrella team would have already sur– rounded the building, if they were any good at all. They needed to get out before the attackers were firmly organized.

"Claire, come to me, follow my voice – I need you covering the door. You see anyone, even a shadow, shoot to kill. Understood?"

He heard her shuffling movements as he spoke and reached out for her as she came close, grabbing hold of her arm. "Wait," he said, and let another burst from the gun fly, hammering into the wall near the door. He immediately unslung the M-16 and handed it to Claire as the submachine gun returned fire, a rattle of bullets spraying directionless into the dark.

"You can use this?"

"Yeah." She sounded anxious but steady enough. "Good. As soon as I say, we're going to start moving for the west door; you'll be covering us."

He was already turning toward the corner, where Rebecca would be. He heard another muffled murmur of pain and fixed on it, moving quickly, dropping to his knees and feeling for the injured girl. He felt silkiness beneath one hand, Rebecca's hair, and ran both hands over her head, feeling for the sticky warmth of blood.

"Rebecca, can you speak? Do you know where

you're hurt?"

A cough – and then he felt her fingers touch his arm, and knew she was all right even before she spoke. "Back of my head," she said, softly but clearly. "Possible concussion, cracked hell on my tailbone, limbs seem okay…" "I'm going to help you up. If you can't walk, I'll carry you, but we have to go now…"

As if to prove his words, there was another rattle from the gunman outside -

– and a shout that had him moving even before it was finished.

"Fire in the hole!"

David spun, leapt up from his crouch and tackled Claire from behind, calling out, "Close your eyes…" as he closed his own in case of incendiary, praying it wasn't a shrapnel…… and the vhump of a grenade launcher, followed by a loud pop and hiss told him it was gas. He moved off of Claire, felt her sit up beside him, heard her ragged, frightened breathing.

God, not sarin, soman, let them want us alive…

Within seconds, David's nose and eyes started to water viciously and he felt a wave of relief. Not nerve gas; they'd used a CN or CS tear gas. The Umbrella team was going to smoke them out. "West door," David said, and Claire choked out an affirmative, the chemical compound disseminating quickly into the frigid air, an effective but thankfully nonlethal weapon. He turned back and felt a hand brush across his chest. "I can walk," Rebecca said, coughing, and David threw her arm across his shoulders anyway and started for the door, moving as fast as he could through the black. He heard Claire gasping but hold-ing her own, keeping up with them. David hurried forward, planning as he went, trying not to breathe too deeply. There'd be people at both doors, waiting -

– but how close? They'll want to be right there, waiting to subdue their choking victims…

He had it. As they came to the wall, David fished into his hip bag, pulling out the smooth, round anti– personnel grenade and pulling the pin.

"Claire, Rebecca, behind me!"

Already blind in the dark, the tears only hurt; they didn't interfere with his aim as he pulled his nine– millimeter and swept it in front of him, finding the door. BAM! He blew a hole in the door's edge, unlocking it, hearing the surprised cries of the men outside. With hardly a pause, David jerked the door open, how far to the fence, fifty, sixty meters -

–and lobbed the grenade, a gentle toss out the door, closing it just as fast as he could, throwing his weight against it and thanking God that it was so very durable -

– and KA-WHAM, the door fought with him as the impact fuse went, dirt and shrapnel slamming against it like a wild beast clawing for entrance. David held on, only a second's war but a fierce one nonetheless. The thundering boom of the M68 gave way to moans and howls of pain, barely audible over the ringing in his ears and the screaming of his breathless lungs. "Cover to the right and head left!" He shouted, and yanked the door open, whipping the H amp;K from side to side. The pallid moonlight showed him only three men, all down, all hurt and screaming and still alive beyond the veil of his tears.

Kevlar, full-body maybe…

They'd expect a run to the front, to their escape vehicle, so David turned left. He fixed his wet gaze on the dark fence as Claire and then Rebecca tumbled out behind him, coughing and crying. "Fence," he said, as loud as he dared, and reached back for Rebecca, sliding his arm around her waist. They stumbled over one of the fallen men, clutching at his bleeding face, and managed a shagging run toward escape, Claire right behind. She sidled quickly after them, the M-16 aimed back toward the front of the compound.

Good girl, we might make this, over the fence and circle away from the van, out into the desert… They ran, closing the distance much faster than David could have hoped, the fence only ten yards behind the rear of the building they'd been in, the building he'd chosen because of it; the others angled toward the front, too much distance, and the first would have been too obvious – then they were almost to the fence when some– one fired the machine gun from the darkness behind them, from the cover of the building's other side. At least one of the Umbrella team had fought logic and come around by the unexpected route. Claire was on it, returning fire, the rapid chatter of the two automatics merging into an explosive duo. The invisible shooter was either hit or ducking as the thundering song went solo, Claire peppering the dark-ness with the.223s.

Rebecca will need help. "Claire! Up and over!" David shouted, reaching out for the M-16. She let it go and turned, scaling the fence easily. "Rebecca, go!" David pulled the trigger and held it, spraying bullets across the cold night, hearing return fire from seemingly everywhere at once, three, maybe four shooters…… and there was a cry from behind him, from Rebecca, only halfway up the metal grid. A few drops of warmth spattered across David's face and he stopped firing, jumping to catch her before she could let go. "Got it!" Claire shouted from the other side, and she fired through the mesh, the nine-millimeter rounds pounding and loud, David's pulse even loud– er. Rebecca was pale, panting harshly, obviously in pain – but she managed to hang on to the fence, even to climb a little as David straddled the fence and lifted her up. He half-carried her over the top, and as soon as Claire reached up to help, David turned and fired again at the oncoming attackers, still hidden in the shadows, his fury drying the last of the chemical tears. Bloody bastards, she's still just a girl… The M-16 went dry and he jumped, then Rebecca was between them, leaning heavily on David's shoul– der, and they were staggering out into the freezing desert night.