“Shut up, Shaw, you moron.” The deep female voice carried an edge.
Elle had decided there were two words that best described the only female soldier on Hell Squad—loner and tough. Claudia Frost was everything Elle wasn’t. Elle cleared her throat. “Just get yourselves back to base.”
As she listened to the team fight their way through the rex nest, she tapped in the command for one of the Hawk quadcopters to pick them up.
The line crackled. “Okay, Elle, we’re through. Heading to the evac point.”
Marcus’ deep voice flowed over her and the tense muscles in her shoulders relaxed a fraction. They’d be back soon. They were okay. He was okay.
She pressed a finger to the blue dot leading the team. “The bird’s en route, Marcus.”
“Thanks. See you soon.”
She watched on the screen as the large, black shadow of the Hawk hovered above the ground and the team boarded. The rex was headed in their direction, but they were already in the air.
Elle stood and ran her hands down her trousers. She shot a wry smile at the camouflage fabric. It felt like a dream to think that she’d ever owned a very expensive, designer wardrobe. And heels—God, how long had it been since she’d worn heels? These days, fatigues were all that hung in her closet. Well-worn ones, at that.
As she headed through the tunnels of the underground base toward the landing pads, she forced herself not to run. She’d see him—them—soon enough. She rounded a corner and almost collided with someone.
“General. Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“No problem, Elle.” General Adam Holmes had a military-straight bearing he’d developed in the United Coalition Army and a head of dark hair with a brush of distinguished gray at his temples. He was classically handsome, and his eyes were a piercing blue. He was the top man in this last little outpost of humanity. “Squad Six on their way back?”
“Yes, sir.” They fell into step.
“And they secured the map?”
God, Elle had almost forgotten about the map. “Ah, yes. They got images of it just before they came under attack by raptors.”
“Well, let’s go welcome them home. That map might just be the key to the fate of mankind.”
They stepped into the landing areas. Staff in various military uniforms and civilian clothes raced around. After the raptors had attacked, bringing all manner of vicious creatures with them to take over the Earth, what was left of mankind had banded together.
Whoever had survived now lived here in an underground base in the Blue Mountains, just west of Sydney, or in the other, similar outposts scattered across the planet. All arms of the United Coalition’s military had been decimated. In the early days, many of the surviving soldiers had fought amongst themselves, trying to work out who outranked whom. But it didn’t take long before General Holmes had unified everyone against the aliens. Most squads were a mix of ranks and experience, but the teams eventually worked themselves out. Most didn’t even bother with titles and rank anymore.
Sirens blared, followed by the clang of metal. Huge doors overhead retracted into the roof.
A Hawk filled the opening, with its sleek gray body and four spinning rotors. It was near-silent, running on a small thermonuclear engine. It turned slowly as it descended to the landing pad.
Her team was home.
She threaded her hands together, her heart beating a little faster.
Marcus was home.
Marcus Steele wanted a shower and a beer.
Hot, sweaty and covered in raptor blood, he leaped down from the Hawk and waved at his team to follow. He kept a sharp eye on the medical team who raced out to tend to Shaw. Dr. Emerson Green was leading them, her white lab coat snapping around her curvy body. The blonde doctor caught his gaze and tossed him a salute.
Shaw was cursing and waving them off, but one look from Marcus and the lanky Australian sniper shut his mouth.
Marcus swung his laser carbine over his shoulder and scraped a hand down his face. Man, he’d kill for a hot shower. Of course, he’d have to settle for a cold one since they only allowed hot water for two hours in the morning in order to conserve energy. But maybe after that beer he’d feel human again.
“Well done, Squad Six.” Holmes stepped forward. “Steele, I hear you got images of the map.”
Holmes might piss Marcus off sometimes, but at least the guy always got straight to the point. He was a general to the bone and always looked spit and polish. Everything about him screamed money and a fancy education, so not surprisingly, he tended to rub the troops the wrong way.
Marcus pulled the small, clear comp chip from his pocket. “We got it.”