his and signed something that he couldn’t understand. When he couldn’t understand, she made an exasperated sound and searched for the huntress. Maisie waved her hands to get the other woman’s attention, and once she had it, she began to sign urgently.
To his utter shock, the huntress slipped her rifle into her back holster and answered Maisie with fluid hand movements. Taken aback by the easy way the two women communicated, he instantly suspected the woman was a Splinter plant. Before he could voice his suspicion, the huntress explained, “Maisie wants to know if you have something called Hemo-Block.”
“It’s a medication for stopping blood loss,” Terror said, shaking off his suspicion and surprise to rush to Maisie’s side. “I don’t have it.”
“I think I do.” Vicious stopped trying to contact the Valiant or any ship in the vicinity for help. He removed his pack of emergency supplies and opened the pocket with a red stripe on it. He grabbed a handful of the pre-packaged medications and held them out to Maisie who snatched up the correct syringe. She wasted no time uncapping the syringe and sticking it into the meat of Lethal’s thigh, a few inches above the jagged wound. She recapped the syringe and dropped it aside. With blood dripping from her fingers, she signed again to the huntress who translated for her. “Trauma dressings?”
“Here.” Vicious had already taken them out of another compartment on his pack and tossed them. Terror caught them and ripped open a package with his teeth. Maisie reached over and plucked the knife from his boot holster. She used it to widen the tear in Lethal’s pants to make more room for them to work. While Terror slapped a dressing on the wound, she prodded Lethal’s thigh, following a line up his leg until she was near his groin. She felt something then and glanced at the huntress who had knelt down beside her to help.
“She says it’s a prototype bullet the Splinters have been trying to perfect,” Fay explained. She signed as she asked aloud, “What does it do?” Maisie answered, and Fay grimaced. “Sharp prongs eject from the sides of the round when it impacts the target. It tears through the skin and muscle while it travels through the body.”
Maisie touched Lethal’s upper thigh again, her hand disappearing under his bloody boxers to feel the point where his thigh and groin met. She made a face and moved her fingers.
“Femoral artery,” Fay said gravely.
“It must have moved while he was running,” Terror said, placing his hand over Maisie’s and moving her fingers out of the way to feel the hard outline of the round under Lethal’s skin. “It’s just metal? The prongs?”
She nodded and then looked to Fay for help as she signed a longer answer. “The engineers are trying to make the bullets capable of carrying toxins. They haven’t succeeded in the delivery system yet.”
Terror caught the worried expression on Vicious’ face. He said what they were both thinking. “If they can deliver toxins when they shoot us, they’ll be able to clear a battlefield with one-hundred-percent casualties. If the rounds don’t kill you, the poison will.”
“We need to get that bullet to Menace,” Vicious decided. “He may need to take it back to the defense lab on Prime.”
The huntress lifted her head suddenly and listened. Terror hadn’t heard anything that seemed out of place, but she knew these woods better than any of them. He strained to listen and heard only the call of birds. A relieved smile relaxed her stressed face, and she made the most delicate and surreal whistling sound, like some kind of songbird.
“What’s that?” Grim asked, his weapon at his shoulder and fully loaded after rifling through Lethal’s things for extra ammunition.
The huntress stood up and dusted off her pants. “Our rescue.”
Chapter Five
Not liking the odds if this rescue party was hostile, Terror was on his feet before the first man appeared above them. Dozens more appeared, all of them armed to the teeth. He moved in front of Maisie and Lethal, and his hand twitched near his holstered sidearm. He exchanged a tense glance with Grim as Vicious strode to the front of their small group. As the highest-ranking man among them, he had naturally assumed the leadership role.
A grizzled old man stepped forward at the top of the ravine. A faded gray knit cap barely contained his wild white hair, and his unkempt beard flared around his face. Although old, he stood tall and