Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
She scrambled on all fours down to the little tunnel small animals had made in the brush and crawled inside. She was fast, sliding almost on the bare ground along the worn, very narrow path that led to the river. This was a game trail, one smaller animals used when they were nervous, which was all the time. It was the fastest way to the river and the safest for her. She went fast, hearing the guards running, still firing their guns, although she doubted if they could even see the GhostWalker.
She burst out from the tunnel just before the bank of the river, coming to an upright position, still moving. Boats were tied up and several of the MSS were rushing up the embankment, firing steadily, over and over at the running GhostWalker. It was his poor luck that other members of the MSS had returned at such an unexpected hour.
She saw the GhostWalker’s head jerk back and then his body was in the water. The guards continued to shoot at him as he went under. Shylah didn’t hesitate but kept on running so that she went right to the edge and dove. She was nowhere near as good in the water as her friend Bellisia, whom she had known and trained with her entire life. Still, she was a strong swimmer and could stay underwater for long periods of time. She wasn’t without her own enhancements.
She swam to the spot where she saw him go under. Bullets streaked through the water, raining down as more soldiers from the village joined those who had come from the river. The streaks looked silver in the murky, dark water. She went deeper, grateful for her enhanced vision but still unable to see very far in front of her. Her foot kicked him, and she grabbed. He was a dead weight and her heart sank. There was no time to examine him, she had to get him—and herself—away from the rapidly firing guards.
Shylah knew they couldn’t see her, but they were so angry, they kept shooting blindly into the water. She struck out strongly for the other side of the river. It wasn’t terribly wide, well within her range, even toting dead weight with one hand. There was a slight bend in the river and she went with the current, letting it help her sweep around that bend as she continued to pull for the bank.
To her dismay, it was much steeper on that side. She rolled the GhostWalker over so he was faceup and kept swimming, trying to find a place to drag him even partially onto land. Time slowed down, and a part of her wanted to panic. Then it was there, an embankment that stretched to the very edge of the river. She made for it, redoubling her efforts at speed.
The moment she had him half in, half out of the water, she rolled him to his side to try to clear his lungs and then listened for breathing and heartbeat. There appeared to be neither. She began CPR immediately, fitting her mouth over his, blowing air into his lungs and then doing chest compressions.
Come on, ghost man. You want this. You want to live. I know you do. Breathe for me. Take a breath. She wasn’t about to lose him. She listened a second time, checked his pulse, breathed for him. For both of them. All the while she listened for sounds of the MSS, just in case they had leapt into their boats and tried to sweep both sides of the river for his body.
There was a wound on his temple. She had given it a cursory examination. The bullet had shaved skin off his head, probably knocked him unconscious, or when he dove, he’d hit a rock. Either way, he’d lost consciousness in the river and his lungs were full of water. She wasn’t letting him drown. When she brushed the blood from the side of his temple, more welled up and her heart leapt. Beneath her hand he stirred. Coughed. Water bubbled up. She turned him onto his side and he coughed again, more water draining from his lungs.
She turned her head toward the river, listening for the sound of the angry terrorists hunting them. Without warning, a giant hand wrapped around her throat and she was slammed down into the dirt. The GhostWalker rose above her, his face a mask of fury.
“What the fuck did you just do?”
Her heart accelerated to the point where she thought it might explode. He was so strong there was no breaking his hold. She caught at his wrist, but it felt like she wrapped her fingers around steel. There was no talking. No way words could escape from that grip. He turned his head away and coughed more. He spat water and looked toward the river, clearly listening for the enemy.