PART 7
For three seconds, there was only static.
Then Hurley whispered,
“Send it.”
I smiled.
Maybe there was hope for the kid.
I plugged the stolen data core into my device and watched the files sync.
Dashcam footage.
Payment ledgers.
Route deviations.
False relay reports.
Webb’s signed extraction order.
And one audio clip from that morning.
Signal relay coverage doesn’t match.
Confirmed operational.
By who?
Move on, Staff Sergeant.
Men like Webb loved closed doors.
I loved timestamps.
At 1420, the first file left my device.
At 1421, Hurley forwarded it.
At 1423, Colonel Diane Ostroski called me directly.
Her voice was calm enough to scare God.
“Lena.”
“Ma’am.”
“Are you injured?”
“Annoyed.”
A pause.
Then, almost tenderly,
“Good.”
I looked at the men on the ground.
“I have four live witnesses, three vehicles, and enough evidence to set Webb’s retirement plan on fire.”
“We’re already moving,” she said. “Do not return through Webb’s staging point.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Extraction coordinates incoming.”
I checked my water.
Then the horizon.
Then the sun bleeding toward the west.
“Make it fast,” I said. “I have company.”
Because behind the western ridge, another dust cloud had appeared.
Bigger this time.
May you like
Webb had realized I was not dead.
And now he was coming personally.
