Author's note-

Sorry I've been missing the last couple of days. Nothing bad happened, just too much work to do. -Sigh- On the plus side, my hand is feeling much better. (Looks pretty nasty still though.)

Ooh, I wanted to ask if you find these notes annoying. I'll stop if you do. ;)

Hope you enjoy reading this!

Lou

Chapter Twenty Seven

Winter mist clung to the bases of the trees. Now and then, a gust of wind would blow it across the clearing in a skittering, twisting mass. It brushed against Art's legs, beading water on his trousers and shoes.

He ignored the minor discomfort, attention firmly fixed on the still, silent barn. Movement caught his eye. His gun was in his hand before his brain had finished processing the information. Raylan would be so proud, he thought dryly as he watched the big rabbit sniff the air then dart back into his burrow.

The mist thickened again, making his shiver as he holstered his gun and went back to watching the barn. A radio crackled somewhere to his right. He frowned, turning to look in that direction. The marshal held up one hand in silent apology, muting the radio.

He sucked in a harsh breath as something banged in the barn. The entry team behind him tensed, waiting for the order to go.

Art turned to Scott. "Your team. Your call," he murmured.

The other man smiled grimly. "You think they're in there?"

Art nodded. "I think they are." He glanced at the barn. "I just don't know if they're alive."

Scott nodded, clapping Art on the shoulder. "Okay. We'll go. Wait until we clear the building before you bring your team in."

He turned and signalled his men. They came forward on silent feet. The mist swirled around their legs. It made them look as if they were floating.

"Break a leg," Art muttered, watching tensely as they advanced on the barn. He unsnapped his holster, freeing his gun in case he needed it quickly.

Every person in the eight man was dressed in black, from head to toe. Each was heavily armed, guns holstered on belts and hanging from slings around necks. They made no sound as the crossed the rugged, open space.

They reached the barn in a few short seconds, each man taking his assigned spot. Scott eased towards the big sliding door and worked on the lock holding it closed. After a second, it dropped to the floor, cut clean through with a special tool.

The door screamed as the entry team forced it open. Sudden gunfire made everyone duck for cover. One of the entry team went down, clutching his leg with gloved hands.

Even from across the clearing, Art could see the blood. Another member of the team dragged him into cover before crouching to return fire.

A shadow moved in the doorway, muzzle flashes giving away his position. One of the black clad men lifted his gun, squeezing off a round that dropped the shadow to the ground.

More gunfire blasted from the window, tearing through the mist like tiny suns. The entry team returned fire, aiming high to cover the windows.

Someone screamed in the barn, a hoarse, pain-filled sound. A man staggered out of the open door, bleeding from a wound to his shoulder. He held a shotgun in one hand, swinging it around wildly.

"Put your gun down!" Scott roared. "Lay it down or we'll shoot!"

The man laughed madly and fired in Scott's direction. He fumbled another slug out of his ratty pocket, jamming it in the shotgun just before a shot dropped him to the floor. The shotgun landed with a dull thump next to his body.

Automatic gunfire shattered the temporary silence. The team ducked back into cover, blindly returning fire.

Tim scanned the barn with urgent eyes, spotting muzzle flash coming from the roof. He raised his mike to his mouth.

"The shooter is on the roof," he said. "Do you have a shot?"

"Negative," Scott replied, voice tense even over the bad line. "I do not have a shot. Take the bastard out if you can."

"Confirmed," Tim replied.

He pressed his eye to his rifle scope, finding his target easily. The sniper rifle coughed once, bullet hitting the man in the head with startling accuracy.

Tim grinned, pleased with the shot. "Target is down."

"Thanks, Tim," Scott muttered over the line. "Nice shot."

The clearing fell silent. Two men eased around the sides of the barn, ducking inside with their guns up. One came back to the door bare seconds later.

"It's clear! There are wounded girls in here!" he called. "We need to get them out, quickly. The whole place is rigged to blow."

Art exchanged a glance with Tim, then ran across the clearing. Both men skidded to a halt outside of the barn, peering in carefully.

The sight made Tim suck in a breath. "Oh, man. No way we're disarming that baby," he muttered. "How much time do we have?"

Twelve bound girls surrounded the large bomb, all bound by their wrist to rings set into the floor. Most looked unconscious, slumped in awkward positions.

A black clad man pressed a pair of bolt cutters into his hand. "Little over three minutes."

"Then we need to work fast. Tim and I will free the girls. Scott, can your men search the barn? There's an old woman missing too."

Scott nodded. "Half can. The other half will help with the girls."

"Fine." Art said, kneeling in front of an unconscious teen. He fitted the bolt cutters around the thin wire binding her, snipping it easily. A black clad man grabbed her arms and lifted her, running out of the barn with her as Art moved onto the next girl.

Tim did the same at the other side, cutting the wire then moving on quickly. His next girl was awake.

She screamed when she saw him. He grabbed her arms to stop her moving, cutting the wire as quickly as he could. "It's okay, miss. We're here to help." The wire broke and he moved onto the next girl. "Miss, you need to get the hell out of here right now. Run!"

She stared dumbly at Tim's face. Scott grabbed her arms, heaving her to her feet despite her struggles. He picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, running for the door as she screamed and moaned.

"Four more!" Art called. "Time?"

"One minute thirty!" one of the entry team called, crouching down at the other end of the line. He pulled out a tactical knife, using it to pry the wire apart. The girl slumped onto the floor. He didn't waste any time, just picked her up and ran.

"Three left!" Tim cut another wire binding, shaking the semi-conscious girl awake. He pointed towards the bright doorway. "Run!"

She needed no telling, scrambling to her feet and bolting away from him.

"Art!" a black clad man called. "Found the old woman. She's pretty bad."

"Get her out of here!" Art called, working on the next girl's bonds.

The girl coughed weakly as Scott picked her up. "Time's getting tight, Art!" he warned as he ran back towards the door.

Another black clad man ran past, cradling the old woman in his arms. Art glanced at them, then set to work freeing his last girl.

"Tim, how're you doing?" he grunted as the bolt cutters made short work of the wire.

"I'm good. You?" Tim asked, dropping his bolt cutters and bending to pick the girl up. He caught his balance, moving towards the door.

Halfway there, he stopped, realising that Art wasn't following him. "Art!" he yelled.

"I'm coming!" the older man shouted, staggering under this girl's weight. "Go!"

Tim handed his girl off to one of the entry team, turning back to help Art. They carried the girl between them, running for the door just as an automated voice started a ten second count-down.

They reached the clearing, sprinting for cover just as the voice reached five. The girl came to as they ducked behind a large rock. She screamed, struggling to get away.

Tim pinned her in place. "Stay still!" he hissed, grunting when she brought her hands up and pummelled his chest. "There's bomb. Stay still!"

An explosion ripped through the barn, throwing lethal shards of wood and other debris into the air. A piece of metal smacked into the rock, carving a huge gouge into the surface.

Art risked a glance over the rock, ducking back when something inside the burning structure exploded. "Well, there goes our evidence," he sighed.