Trapped (The Condemned Series #1) - Alison Aimes Page 0,3

at the two dead soldiers on either side.

“My belt’s jammed.” The minute he saw her, Officer Pogue threw himself forward, trying to tear out of the restraints. “I can’t get out.” He kicked his boot toward something on the ground in front of him. “There’s my knife. Cut me out.”

Seizing the knife with two hands, she hacked at the restraint. “Stop struggling. I’ll get you out.”

“Faster,” he urged.

Then with a final slice, the fraying restraint gave way. Pogue popped up on a roar. “Let’s go. The fire’s burning fast.”

“Wait. You have to help me with Dr. Winthrop. He can’t walk on his own.”

“No time. He’ll never make it anyway.” Pogue turned away.

“No.” She sprung at him, sinking her nails into his shoulder. She’d put up with his constant harassment because non-Council descendants stuck together and because he was a decorated soldier with useful survival training. She needed that expertise now. They all did. “I didn’t leave you. Take Winthrop’s arm. Put him between us. We can make it.”

When he still didn’t move, she grew desperate. “Do it. Or I’ll tell the Council you refused to help one of their own. Think your life will be worth anything after that?”

Pogue’s jaw tightened and, for a terrible second, she thought he might strike her, but then he was striding past her, knocking her thigh into the bench, plowing his shoulder into Winthrop’s stomach, and hoisting him upward into a fireman’s carry.

“Go,” he shouted.

Knowing he was right behind, she scrambled forward.

A moan came from the right.

She swiveled toward the sound, but Pogue’s big body rammed into her, making her stumble. “No more. You’ll get us killed. Keep moving.”

“But—”

“Go. Or I’ll leave you and your precious Council admirer.” Pogue barreled into her, shoving her hard.

“We can’t just leave the others here to die!”

Without another word, he slammed into her again, sending Winthrop’s boots into her hip and her sprawling forward on a pained gasp.

“Move or I’ll run right over you.”

That cowardly bastard. He’d begged her to save him, but refused to do the same for anyone else.

“Bella? Is that you? Bella, you’re almost there.” Davies’ terrified coaxing echoed from up ahead. “Come on.”

Hating herself, hating Pogue, Bella stumbled down the aisle. The burn in her throat had become agony, breathing difficult. Pogue was hard on her heels, ready to stampede over her in an instant. On either side, dark smudges taunted her with the possibility of other sightless eyes.

“You made it.” Soft hands grabbed hold of her arm, guiding her through a twisted hole in the wreckage she hadn’t even seen.

Bella’s knees hit the ground. Her head snapped up and she sucked in dry, hot air. Two orange suns blazed high in the sky. All around her, desolate rock and dust swirled in a tapestry of bleak browns and rust as far as the eye could see. Even the sky was the color of dried blood. No hoped for vegetation in sight.

The trip had been for naught.

Pogue jogged by her, an unconscious Winthrop still in his hold. “Move away from the shuttle,” he roared. “It’s going to blow.”

Several soldiers followed. Apparently, Steve Meyers had been wrong. This time the back of the shuttle had been the place to be. At least ten of the military team still lived while everyone from the scientific team besides her, Davies, and Dr. Winthrop had perished.

Her gaze locked with Davies’. They shuffled away from the burning shuttle. “All those deaths for nothing.”

A loan tear tracked down her colleague’s soot-covered face. “But we survived.”

An inhuman shriek rent the air.

Everyone froze. Eyes wide, the soldiers’ guns shot up, pointing wildly at the rocky outcroppings where anything could be hiding.

The hair at Bella’s nape prickled.

Yes, they’d survived. But for how long?

Chapter Two

“You can’t just leave them here.” A woman’s furious voice reached prisoner 673 through the rocky canyon. He froze. Cocked his head. Inhaled, but scented nothing except the usual arid scent of dirt and dust.

After so many years alone, the sound of such loud squawking was jarring. And that the voice was a woman’s? His cock twitched and rose, taking notice. Eight years was a long time to go without. The last time the droids had dropped a woman on Dragath25 was five years ago. 225’s pack had gotten hold of her first. She’d lasted five minutes.

It was a good reminder. Fragile things didn’t last here. And nothing, not even long overdue pussy, was worth risking his survival.

“You hear those shrieks? They’re coming.” An equally enraged male’s voice boomed through