Brink of Extinction | Book 2 | Stay Alive

What?” I shot back.
Andrès pulled and tugged at his arms, trying to free them from my bulk. I pressed down harder, causing him to wince and gnash his teeth.
“Both, but I’m not sure how it all works.” Andrès struggled to open his eyes. The lids lifted back slowly, revealing glassy eyes filled with tears. “I had people who ran and maintained it. It’s safe to assume you’ve killed them all.”
“Where’s the–”
A sharp report sounded from the long hallway behind Jackal. The incoming round hammered the drywall near his head.
I flinched, then covered my head with both arms.
Jackal ducked, dropped to one knee, then searched for the shooter. The beam from his flashlight swept the corridor from side to side, revealing a shadowy figure lurking in the blackness.
A lone gunman limped down the hallway with his heater trained in our direction. He used the wall as a crutch. His shoulder painted the surface with streaks of blood. “Get away from him, now.”
Jackal popped off a single round, striking the injured man’s kneecap. His leg buckled, sending him hard to the floor.
“Hold up for a minute,” I said, stopping Jackal from squeezing the trigger again.
“Why?” Jackal asked, keeping the barrel of his rifle fixed at the wailing man’s skull. “That asshole almost nailed me with a head shot.”
“Just hold on.” I removed my arms from my head, then glanced down at Andrès. “Would your man down there know how it works by chance?”
Andrès tilted his head, looked down the hallway, then nodded.
I whistled at Jackal.
He peered over his shoulder at me.
I nodded at the wounded man on his side, grabbing at his knee.
Jackal stood and closed in on the man writhing on the floor.
“Come on. Get up.” I stepped off Andrès’s arms, then grabbed a handful of his shirt.
Andrès’s grimaced, face scrunched from the pain coursing through his body. He whimpered like a wounded animal. His head sunk farther into his shoulders, and he shielded his face with his bloody hands.
Jackal closed in on the shooter with his rifle and light trained at his chest. He kicked the heater from the Hispanic man’s reach.
“You’re going to pay for that,” the man said through his clenched jaw.
“Sure I am. Get up.” Jackal grabbed him by the arm and helped him to his feet.
I lugged Andrès down the hall toward Jackal and the gangster’s man. I pressed the sharpened blade of my dagger to his throat. “Where’s your security room? I imagine that’s where you’re tracking the plane?”
“Screw you, white boy,” the wounded man replied with a snarl. “I’m not–telling you–shit.
“Not too wise unless you want us to paint the elegant marble floor with your boss’ blood. Make no mistake, I’ll kill both of you in the worst way imaginable. You’ll experience every painful second of it.” I moved the dagger across Andrès’s throat, drawing more blood. “Slow or quick. Your call.”
“Just take them to the security room, Juan,” Andrès said.
Juan favored his injured leg, limping down the hall. Beads of sweat raced from under his brow and down the sides of his brown-red tinted skin. “You should have put a bullet in Lawson’s forehead when we got back instead of messing around.”
“Should’ve, would’ve, could’ve,” Jackal quipped. “Now move.”
Juan turned and grumbled in pain. Jackal aided the wounded man down the dark hall with Andrès and myself following close behind. We skirted past the black mass of dead bodies and members of Rhys’s 2nd team who’d assisted us in breaching the house. They served their purpose–helping us to infiltrate Andrès’s home.
“It’s up here on the right.” Juan lifted his weary arm, pointing at the smooth painted door. A light from the nearby window shone along its surface. “Hopefully, the backup generator is still running.”
“For your sake, I hope it is,” Jackal replied.
“Are we going to find any surprises in there?” I asked in Andrès’s ear.
He shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of. Like I said, you killed most, if not all of my men.”
Jackal shoved Juan against the wall, then trained his rifle at the keypad next to the door. “Open it, now.”
Juan narrowed his eyes. A scowl formed on his face. He turned toward the door, then thumbed the access code into the keypad.
The door clicked, then popped open. Jackal grabbed Juan’s shirt and pushed him through the door, knocking it all the way open. Juan fell to the floor and slid across the tile.
Jackal moved in and swept the rather large-security room for any additional men while Andrès and I waited in the hallway.
“Clear.” Jackal lowered the rifle and waved us in.
The gleam from the wall of monitors lit up the dark space. A wave of heat escaped from the room. The rhythmic hum of equipment running melded with a steady beeping noise.
“What’s that beeping noise?” I forced Andrès into the security room, then lowered the knife from his throat.
Juan crawled across the floor to one of the small, black-task chairs facing us. “Sounds like one of the battery backups has failed.”
Jackal pointed at the console with his rifle. “Show us where the plane is currently at?”
Andrès wiped the blood running from his nose onto the sleeve of his shirt. Juan pulled himself up into the chair, panting. He spun around with his wounded leg sticking out straight, the heel of his shoe resting on the floor. His hands trembled, fingers slow to pound each key on the keyboard before him.
“Faster,” I said, keeping Andrès close to me.
“I’m working as fast as I can,” Juan shot back, his voice laced with venom. “It’s kind of hard to concentrate with being shot and all. Plus, I’ve only done this a handful of other times, so give me a second.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the dark hallway,