The Collected

CHAPTER 54

Using hand signals to communicate, Quinn told Daeng to circle left and Orlando right as they neared the spot where the noise had originated.

The groan had lasted about five seconds, and there had been no other sound.

Quinn eased forward, gripping his gun as he gently moved leaves and branches out of his way. He saw the top of the dead tree first. As he got closer, he spotted the branch that had broken off lying on the ground. He paused and scanned the area carefully, looking for the person who had cried out. No one was there.

The groan had been human. No question. So whoever made it had already moved off.

Quinn was about to go round up Orlando and Daeng when his gaze strayed back to the branch. There was something odd about it. He moved in a little closer. There was a vine wrapped around the middle. Maybe it had naturally grown that way, but his instincts told him no.

He took another few steps forward. The way the dirt was freshly kicked up around the branch, he knew it was definitely the thing that had made the noise. He grabbed the vine and gave it a tug. The end that was not wrapped around the branch was heavier than it should have been. He pulled again, and saw that it was tied to a rock.

Son of a bitch!

“Back!” he whispered harshly. “Everybody back!”

It was a trap of some sort. The branch had obviously been pulled down on purpose. And the groan? Just the cherry on top.

This close to the fort, it had to be meant to get the attention of the people inside, but why someone would want to do that was something he’d have to figure out later. Right now, he needed to get away.

Crouching, he ran into the cover of the brush, and then oriented himself so he was heading back to the point where he and the others had originally split up.

He ducked below several branches and went the long way around a dense thicket, taking the quieter path.

He sensed motion a split second before he heard the near-silent step. As he started to turn, someone wrapped an arm around his neck. He grabbed it with one hand, and tried to pull it off while twisting his gun around with the other so he could shoot his attacker, but the person behind him rammed a knee into the side of the gun’s suppressor, and slammed it upward again, this time into Quinn’s fingers.

Quinn tried to hold on, but the gun slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground. Around him, the world was starting to go black as the blood to his brain was being cut off.

In a last-ditch effort, he staggered forward and then thrust himself back, hoping to throw the attacker off balance. Though the man didn’t let go, the move did loosen his hold around Quinn’s neck, and brought Quinn back from the brink of unconsciousness.

He grabbed the man’s arm with both hands and yanked down hard. He could feel his attacker lose his balance, so Quinn dropped to a crouch. The guy rolled over his back, sprawling to the ground on the other side.

Quinn snatched up his pistol, pointed it at the man. “Don’t move.”