Omen Operation by Taylor Brooke

“Run! They’re here! They’ve found us. Run!”
    Gabriel squeezed Brooklyn. “You’re my best friend, Brookie. You know that, right?”
    Brooklyn couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think.
    Dawson’s footsteps stopped and Porter’s voice went quiet.
    Rayce was the first to run toward Ellie.
    “We need to get the guns,” Brooklyn said quickly, scrambling to sit up and get her boots on.
    Gabriel darted out of the tent. Dawson tried to reach for her, but she swung around the left side of him, sprinting toward the woods after Rayce.
    “Gabriel, stop!” There was desperation in his voice. A sleek black gun was shoved at his chest.
    Porter’s expression was grim. “Let’s go.”
    Julian tried to keep calm, piling as many bags as he could together so they were easier to grab. His eyes moved to Brooklyn when she came stumbling out of the tent. Her head whipped from side to side until she found what she was looking for: the slender curve of Gabriel’s legs as she ran through the trees, with Dawson and Porter at her heels.
    “We need to get everyone in the bus. We need to get out of here,” Julian’s voice shook.
    The sound of bodies clashing came before the drowned, gnarled howling of the Surros.
    Ellie bounded into the camp heaving in deep, burning breaths. Her hands were covered in black sludge, and her shirt was torn. She tripped trying to get to the safety of the bus, and tears came pouring out of her eyes.
    Brooklyn rushed to her side and pushed strands of Ellie’s hair away, peeling them out of the black blood on her face.
    “How many are there?” Brooklyn asked.
    Ellie couldn’t stop crying, clutching at Brooklyn roughly, with her nails scrabbling to find purchase on her shoulders.
    “Ellie!” Brooklyn shouted, “Talk! How many?”
    “Too many,” Ellie sobbed. “I couldn’t count. I c-couldn’t…”
    “Go inside,” Brooklyn said.
    Ellie was taken inside by Jordan. He was pale-faced and sickly-looking.
    Brooklyn looked over her shoulder to Julian, who was staring back at her. It was an unspoken agreement between close friends. No words were necessary.
    I don’t leave without you is what they said to one another in silence, eyes locking for a short moment. Then they were off, running faster than they ever had.
    Straight toward the clatter just past the tree line.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Fourteen
     
     
    Brooklyn thought about slowing down as the noises started to get louder. She expected her legs to falter, and give out before she faced the Surros again. But they didn’t. She lunged past the trees with Julian at her side while the sun peeked through a thick layer of morning mist hovering low in the sky. They made a quick turn around a large oak, and suddenly, the blur of the enemy became clear.
    The crash of a squirming body startled her into a skidding stop. Brooklyn caught herself before she could fall backward.
    It was a Surro.
    Its body writhed in the leaves scattered on the ground. Its back was broken, eyes bloodshot and protruding from their sockets while it wailed and clawed at her feet. Brooklyn gave it a blunt kick in the skull and turned back toward the chaos to find Julian running into the fray.
    Ellie was right. There were too many—at least five Surros to every one person in the camp. They were everywhere, screaming and hissing. It was Brooklyn’s nightmare played out in real time, and the only thing that pushed her to move was a gunshot.
    Porter struggled to reload as he shoved a larger Surro back with his fist. Black blood was splattered across his face. It speckled his glasses and dripped over the front of his shirt, accompanied by a patch of damp crimson bursting over his shoulder.
    Brooklyn ran forward and tried to piece together a plan or an idea, anything that could help them get out of this alive. Maneuvers danced behind her eyes, every strategy Terry had forced on them, every combat simulation, and every fighting style. She kept it all on repeat and