Chapter Four: Race Against the Wild Hunt
Team One's trucks wailed as they flew through the streets and onto the highway heading north. Search grids were assigned and the team was ready to hit the ground running once they arrived at their destination. Their sirens pulled double duty as they flew, clearing traffic and giving Team One a built in excuse for bulling their way through rush hour. Still, the usual evening rush hour delayed them, turning what should have been an hour's trip into an grueling near two hour trip.
Ed, in the lead truck, growled as another idiotic and clearly deaf driver pulled into his path, trying to take advantage of the clear lane – clear because most of the other drivers weren't stupid enough to get in Team One's way. He slammed down on the horn, expressing his displeasure as he swung around the Idiot and onto the shoulder. The annoyed team leader made a point to swerve back into the traffic lane as close to the Idiot as possible.
"Easy, Eddie, let's not have an accident trying to get there," Greg chided from the passenger seat. "We have time."
"Not a whole lot, Boss," Ed countered, stepping down on his accelerator again. "You heard those werewolves…if Jules and Lou get bitten…"
"Let's not borrow trouble, Ed," Greg interrupted sharply, betraying his own concern for their missing teammates. His attention shifted to the radio. "Okay, team, I know everyone is sick of this by now, but let's go over this one more time. When we get there, everyone checks weapons – both tech and magic – and heads straight for their assigned search grid."
"Fast is good," Ed remarked, drawing a nod from his boss.
"Fast is good, but don't go so fast that you miss something. Now, if at any time, I get a lock on where Jules and Lou are, I'll report it…"
"And then we all converge on you," Sam finished, the faintest edge of exasperation in his voice with what felt like the umpteenth rehash of the plan.
"Once we find Lou and Jules, fall back to the trucks," Ed ordered grimly. "Nobody opens any doors once we're back in the trucks; lock 'em and keep 'em locked."
"Spike, how are we doing on time?" Greg asked.
Their tech was silent a second. "We got one hour, ten minutes until sunset, one hour, thirty-three minutes until moonrise."
Ed slammed on his horn again, skidding around another driver looking to duck into Team One's lane and stepped even harder on the accelerator. The other trucks followed.
Team One slid out of the trucks, checking their guns and settling swords in place; their Narnian armor blending into the deepening dusk around them. Not a single word was exchanged as they finished their gear check and vanished into the field, searching for their teammates.
The closest grids were checked over by either Sarge or Team One members on their way past to other grids. Ed and Wordy took advantage of their height and speed to head for the further parts of the field. Sam and Spike split the middle area of the field between them, starting in the center and working outwards. Greg took the section closest to their trucks; his team insisted that he was the slowest runner, something he might have taken offense at if they hadn't sounded so worried when they said it.
"Southeast corner clear," he reported. "Moving west to the next grid."
"Center-east and center-west clear," Spike called in next, "Samtastic and I are splitting up."
Behind the team, the sun began to sink below the horizon, prompting a call from Sam. "Ten minutes to sunset, guys."
"Copy," Ed acknowledged, "I've hit center-west on the north border, moving west from here."
"Center-east on the north border, clear," Wordy reported in, a beat behind his best friend. "Moving east."
Minutes ticked by, littered with reports, but no sign of their teammates. The sun finished its sink below the horizon, the light winking out. Flashlights, already on, became the only source of light for the searchers.
"No sign of them," Wordy called from his grid, disappointment and frustration marking his transmission. "Moving to the next grid."
"Nothing here, either," Spike reported next. "We've got ten minutes left before moonrise."
"Current search grid clear," Ed announced, "I'm heading west from my position."
"Copy that, Eddie," Parker agreed, "I've hit the far west for my search grid, heading north."
The clock ticked on, each second another nail in two coffins, marked by the negative reports coming in from all members of the team. "Come on, guys, we got to find them," Sam cried, his frustration slipping its leash.
"We're looking, Samtastic," Spike bit back, just as frustrated. "I don't see you coming up with any leads here."
"Easy, guys," Sarge intervened, "We're not going to find them by ripping each other to shreds. Keep your weapons ready, pretty soon we're going to have company."
The reminder brought a few uncharacteristic phrases from his team, but the Sergeant understood. He shook his head and kept searching, pushing hard at his 'team sense', wishing bitterly that his missing teammates hadn't been hidden by wards…again.
Ed approached a ramshackle building near the northwest corner of the field, gun up and his eyes on the move. Wind whistled past the building, sounding an eerie spine-chilling howl as it went. The constable shuddered, darting another look around before he put his shoulder to the building's decrepit door.
It gave so quickly that Ed all but fell into the room, drawing immediate attention from right below him. "Ed!" Jules cried, the relief in her voice obvious.
As Ed caught his balance, Lou quipped, rather weakly, "What took you so long?" The tan-skinned constable had a nasty looking gash on his shoulder, though, fortunately, the blood looked as if it had dried.
"Wards," Ed growled, swinging himself down to his teammates and glaring at the chains they were bound with. "Just like when Sam and Spike went missing," he added, drawing looks of comprehension from the pair. The team leader crouched, his eyes narrowing as he realized the chains had no locks on them; instead the ends were magically fused together. "Sarge, I found 'em; let's get out of here," he called on the radio.
A wolf's howl echoed around them, drowning out any reply from the rest of the team. Ed swore, yanking his sword from its sheath and bringing it down on the chains with a roar. The chains, though reinforced, didn't stand a chance as Ed's sword blazed yellow on its way down. His vambraces, too, glowed yellow in the darkness, giving an extra flare as the sword impacted the chains; they shattered, their power broken by the Narnian-forged blade, and sparks flew from the force of impact.
Jules hauled Lou up, well aware that Ed had the only weapons between the three of them. The trio scrambled out of the pit the two constables had been chained in and out the broken door as a low growl came from behind them. Ed, in the back, turned and swiped at the oncoming werewolf with his sword, trying to deter the wild animal. The werewolf, sensing the sword's magic, fell back a moment.
"Contact, contact," Wordy yelled over the comm, a gunshot puncturing his report.
"Two of 'em here," Spike panted, his own weapon's report shattering the night.
Ed pushed Jules and Lou ahead of him. "We're clear, get to the trucks!" A snarl made him turn and his eyes widened as the werewolf started to pounce. His sword fell to the ground and he grabbed his submachine gun on its strap around his chest; firing almost before he brought it to bear.
The werewolf howled in agony as the bullets ripped into it; Jules' scream cut the night and Ed whirled, weapon still up. A werewolf was leaping at his teammates, its eyes gleaming with triumph. The team leader fired, bringing the wolf down with centimeters to spare. Ed snatched up his sword in his left hand and raced forward to help Jules lift Lou. The trio barreled through the field, gunshots ringing out around them, reports flowing in over the comm as they ran for the trucks.
At the trucks, Ed took the burden of lifting Lou into the passenger seat of the lead truck, grimacing as he realized the Sarge wasn't back yet. Jules scrambled around to the other side and into the back seat, rightly assuming that Ed would want to drive.
Wordy broke free from the field a second after Lou was settled, his eyes wide and his stride eating up the distance to the second truck. Sam and Spike were on his heels, their own weapons in hand.
"Where's the Sarge?" Ed barked.
"Here," the Sarge called, appearing from close by, his expression shaken. "Anyone see a pup out there?"
Trust the Sarge to be thinking of the third kidnap victim at a time like this. Ed shook his head, mirrored by his teammates. "You?" Sam asked, slowing his pace just a bit, before stiffening and whipping around. A werewolf burst through the brush, snarling in fury at its prey escaping. The sniper squeezed the trigger, but his gun clicked. Sam's eyes widened in fear; the werewolf pounced.
Wordy was turning, yanking his own gun up, but Ed, from his spot, could see it would be too late. Then someone rammed into Sam from the side; the werewolf's target vanished and it landed just past where Sam had been standing. Wordy aimed and pulled his own trigger; the werewolf had time for one yelp before it fell.
"Sam!" Jules cried from inside the truck; Ed pinned her with a glare, forcing her to stay put.
Spike reached Sam and his rescuer first, pulling the upper man up with a shaky grin. "Sarge, anything I said about you not running fast, I take back," the tech joked feebly.
"No kidding," Wordy muttered, hauling Sam to his feet. "Trucks first, then talk," he added.
"Copy that," Sarge agreed breathlessly.
The team scrambled into their trucks and away from the bloody, deserted field. A good five kilometers away, they pulled off again, to check themselves and their rescued teammates over. Ed took the chance to check his sword, puzzled when he couldn't find a single nick or notch in the blade. They were almost done when the sound of a car's engine brought them all around, peering at the arriving vehicle in both confusion and concern.
Author note: Well, the end of the interlude is almost upon us. Tomorrow, I fly to Houston for onboarding, coming back on Friday (don't worry, the chapter will be up as per usual.) Then we start driving to...probably Plano, but really, could be anywhere. A small chance, but still a chance. Please pray for me, it's the one constant in my life right now.