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decided to head to the main street to get food for everyone. Bronsin had been real quiet ever since they arrived in town, and Stedman wondered what was bothering him.
“What’s up?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that we need to be here.” Bronsin sighed. “Or at least, we’re getting closer.”
“What does that mean?”
Bronsin didn’t acknowledge the question. “We’d better get the food inside before they start gnawing on their knuckles.”
After eating, the men went to their respective rooms and settled for the night. Stedman watched Bronsin closely and wondered if his brother still had his mental shield down. His face was white with fatigue, and Stedman was worried his sibling would pass out.
Stedman only slept sporadically as Bronsin tossed and turned. He glanced at Ward when he sat up to stare at Bronsin.
“What the hell is wrong with him?” Ward whispered.
“I don’t know, but I sure as hell don’t like it.”
“I’ve never seen him like this before.”
“Me either.”
Just before dawn, Bronsin bolted upright in bed. Sweat glistened on his skin and he was shaking.
“Shit, we need to move now !”
“What is it?”
“Just get everyone up and into the trucks. I’ll tell you on the way.”
Bronsin was already pulling his clothes on. Stedman went to the connecting doors and roused the others. When they were all loaded and ready, they headed for the vehicles.
“Bryden, you and your brothers need to keep a low profile. Stay in the truck unless we call for assistance,” Bronsin commanded.
Stedman just stared at his brother. Bronsin had always followed orders, not given them. It was so out of character that he didn’t question him.
Bronsin directed Stedman out of town. They headed southwest and then turned onto Buffalo Trail Road, heading north. There was nothing around them apart from the occasional farmhouse, but even those were few and far between.
“Stop the truck,” Bronsin yelled.
Stedman skidded to a halt and looked around. There was nothing here. What the fuck?
“Bronsin…”
“Shh, no voice communication,” Bronsin whispered but made sure his mic relayed his command to the others.
Bronsin eased from the truck, and when he closed the door he made sure it hardly made a sound. Everyone else followed suit except for the Healy brothers. They remained hidden in the back of their vehicle.
Bronsin took to the fields. They must have traveled for nearly three miles before he indicated for them to slow and keep to cover. Stedman scanned the area, but all he could see was an old, dilapidated barn. The sun was just lightening the sky, which would make it easier for them to see, but if necessary, their enhanced sight would kick in automatically.
Using hand signals, Bronsin indicated for them to spread out and close in on the barn from all angles. Stedman could see faint tire tracks in the dirt and places where the grass had been flattened by a vehicle.
They converged on the barn, but it was totally empty. Stedman turned to Bronsin to question him by raising an eyebrow. His brother tapped his head, and Stedman sighed as he lowered his mental shield.
Fear like he’d never felt before slammed into him, causing him to stagger. He watched the other team members blanch and flinch as they, too, lowered their protective walls.
Bronsin began searching the ground, so Stedman and his colleagues copied him. They spread out across one end of the barn. Using their feet, they tapped lightly, checking for changes in the sound.
When they were three quarters of the way down, Bronsin raised his fist and then pointed to the floor near his feet. Stedman and the others convened around him. He saw a small rusted metal handle but nothing else. Getting down on his hands and knees he felt around with his fingertips. It was concealed very well, but Bronsin had found it. There was a wooden panel in the floor, and it was covered with a thick layer of dirt and dead grass. He felt around the metal
“What’s up?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that we need to be here.” Bronsin sighed. “Or at least, we’re getting closer.”
“What does that mean?”
Bronsin didn’t acknowledge the question. “We’d better get the food inside before they start gnawing on their knuckles.”
After eating, the men went to their respective rooms and settled for the night. Stedman watched Bronsin closely and wondered if his brother still had his mental shield down. His face was white with fatigue, and Stedman was worried his sibling would pass out.
Stedman only slept sporadically as Bronsin tossed and turned. He glanced at Ward when he sat up to stare at Bronsin.
“What the hell is wrong with him?” Ward whispered.
“I don’t know, but I sure as hell don’t like it.”
“I’ve never seen him like this before.”
“Me either.”
Just before dawn, Bronsin bolted upright in bed. Sweat glistened on his skin and he was shaking.
“Shit, we need to move now !”
“What is it?”
“Just get everyone up and into the trucks. I’ll tell you on the way.”
Bronsin was already pulling his clothes on. Stedman went to the connecting doors and roused the others. When they were all loaded and ready, they headed for the vehicles.
“Bryden, you and your brothers need to keep a low profile. Stay in the truck unless we call for assistance,” Bronsin commanded.
Stedman just stared at his brother. Bronsin had always followed orders, not given them. It was so out of character that he didn’t question him.
Bronsin directed Stedman out of town. They headed southwest and then turned onto Buffalo Trail Road, heading north. There was nothing around them apart from the occasional farmhouse, but even those were few and far between.
“Stop the truck,” Bronsin yelled.
Stedman skidded to a halt and looked around. There was nothing here. What the fuck?
“Bronsin…”
“Shh, no voice communication,” Bronsin whispered but made sure his mic relayed his command to the others.
Bronsin eased from the truck, and when he closed the door he made sure it hardly made a sound. Everyone else followed suit except for the Healy brothers. They remained hidden in the back of their vehicle.
Bronsin took to the fields. They must have traveled for nearly three miles before he indicated for them to slow and keep to cover. Stedman scanned the area, but all he could see was an old, dilapidated barn. The sun was just lightening the sky, which would make it easier for them to see, but if necessary, their enhanced sight would kick in automatically.
Using hand signals, Bronsin indicated for them to spread out and close in on the barn from all angles. Stedman could see faint tire tracks in the dirt and places where the grass had been flattened by a vehicle.
They converged on the barn, but it was totally empty. Stedman turned to Bronsin to question him by raising an eyebrow. His brother tapped his head, and Stedman sighed as he lowered his mental shield.
Fear like he’d never felt before slammed into him, causing him to stagger. He watched the other team members blanch and flinch as they, too, lowered their protective walls.
Bronsin began searching the ground, so Stedman and his colleagues copied him. They spread out across one end of the barn. Using their feet, they tapped lightly, checking for changes in the sound.
When they were three quarters of the way down, Bronsin raised his fist and then pointed to the floor near his feet. Stedman and the others convened around him. He saw a small rusted metal handle but nothing else. Getting down on his hands and knees he felt around with his fingertips. It was concealed very well, but Bronsin had found it. There was a wooden panel in the floor, and it was covered with a thick layer of dirt and dead grass. He felt around the metal
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