Free The Golden Crystal by Nick Thacker Page B

pinpointed the source at the same time: About 200 feet ahead on the left wall, was a tiny blinking red light — each pulse corresponding to a muted beep.
    “ Get back!” Jeff yelled, almost lifting Wayne off his feet as he turned to get away. They ran together toward the safety of the corner wall, both men stretching out into a full sprint… 
    The explosion lifted them off the floor and flung them toward the two dead soldiers. A shockwave and billowing heat enveloped them, close enough to choke them with scathing, burning smoke, but not close enough to injure them. Assuming that whoever had set the charge had planned it as an escape route, the brothers scrambled to their feet and charged back through the smoke, determined not to give the intruders any room for escape.
    Two soldiers burst through the rear theater doors ahead of them, the first dropped instantly by Jeff’s 9mm. Wayne’s shot missed the second man, giving the soldier enough time to fire a wild round toward them before leaping out the newly formed smoldering exit. 
    They dropped behind an overturned table to reload. Before they finished, a flashbang grenade popped to their right — thrown out the door by someone still within the theater — and their world went white. 
    Jeff, being closest to the grenade, was knocked out of commission; temporarily blinded. Wayne fared slightly better, momentarily deafened and seeing double, but able to see nonetheless. He ensured that Jeff’s arms and legs were out of the line of oncoming fire and rolled sideways into the theater. 
    Luckily, there was no one near the door as Wayne entered — no one jumped out to finish him off. Regaining his footing, he shook off the flash grenade’s effects, checked left, right, and center, and ducked behind a row of seats. He looked toward the stage. A red curtain was pulled across it, but a section of it was billowing softly. He could see a light behind the curtain interrupted by moving shadows. Someone was on the stage. 
    Wayne moved quietly toward the side aisle leading to the stage right entrance, but he didn’t get far. There was a loud crash from behind the closed door, prompting him to duck down behind another row of seats.
    A man burst through the backstage door, fuming. He was followed by two more soldiers, and they were dragging along a younger man, probably in his mid-twenties.
    “I thought there was to be little resistance!” the man in the lead shouted to no one in particular. 
    “Sir, we expected a light security detail, and our intel indicated there would be no more than three guards on duty at any time,” one of the soldiers said. The men were moving swiftly toward the exit, directly across from where Wayne now lay concealed on the floor. If they continued through the doors, they’d see him for sure — the seats would not keep him hidden as they walked past.
    “I don’t care if they had a small army of attack dogs — this was supposed to be a covert mission! In and out — but then you shot that scientist and woke up the entire complex!” 
    Wayne took it all in as the group closed in on his position. If he could swing around, somehow get a straight shot from under the chairs, he might be able to take out the leader — possibly give him a fighting chance. 
    He tried to shift his position, but the row just wasn’t wide enough for him to do it without standing up. Oh well, he thought. He’d have to make a stand from here, lying on the ground and firing underneath the chairs at their feet. He didn’t want to take the chance of their finding Jeff sprawled out helpless in the hall. 
    He waited until they were three steps away from the exit and only two away from spotting him. Wayne was good with a rifle — damn good — but firing a handgun, laying on his side, through two rows of chairs at a moving target — well, the closer, the better. 
    He fired off two shots in rapid succession — missing the lead man’s foot but shattering the man’s shin.