Enhancement

- - 27 - -

The five of us jog down the alley, following Tanner closely as he holds the minibomb snug in his hand. When we reach the end of the passageway, Tanner peeks his head subtly out of the dark alleyway's shadow.

"All clear," he says through his microphone. The rest of us nod, reforming our formation as we leave the alley behind us.

My visor tints itself blue again as we run down the street. No Screeners are in sight, making me wonder what they're doing now. Are they rounding up more citizens? Are they rooting out the rebels and killing them? I nearly shiver at the thought. The rebels seem smart enough to have already fled the city, at least if they're legit. At this point, I think they are.

"Holland, do you want to throw the bomb?" Tanner asks.

"No, you do it," I say after a second. "Just don't kill anyone. Scare them enough so they run away from their posts."

"And I'll raid the supply table," Peyton says with an evil cackle.

"Way to lighten the mood, Peyton," Tanner says, laughing.

Peyton lets out another cackle, and Stephen chuckled in sync with me. The moment I hear his voice, heat rises up my neck. Only Stephen could pull that reaction from my body. I don't know why my body reacts that way, even though we hardly know each other.

As we near the dead-end of the street, I sneak another look ahead over Tanner's shoulder. Black boxes line the last bit of pavement before the weeded fields take over. I can already tell what they are: high-powered explosives. I swear mentally. They're barricading everyone in.

"Alright, let's do this," Tanner says. He leads us closer to the last building on the street, and we all press our shoulders against the concrete-and-metal siding. Peyton whips out her gun, and I follow suit, curling my fingers around the handle and trigger.

Tanner glances around the nearest building to acquire his target while turning the crank on the small sphere. With a final exhale we all hear through his mic, Tanner's Screener-disguised body widely tosses the bomb. Without waiting for the explosion, we charge in the direction of the real Screeners.

A loud boom and a stream of black smoke erupt as the scene comes into my view. All of the enemy Screeners flee towards a dark building, cowering and rushing for cover. Peyton and I bolt across the street, leaping through an opening in the smoke's flames. A voice yells inaudible garble at us, but it's too late for him to even attempt to stop us. Tanner calls through his mic, instructing us not shoot any bullets.

Peyton and I chase after our group across the dying meadow. Untamed plants and weeds brush against our legs as we rush towards the woods. The labored breathing of multiple voices echoes through my helmet along with my loud heartbeat. I hear a bullet fire sporadically from behind us, bounding off my helmet with a thump.

My visor lights up in response to the shot, displaying a live feed from the back of my helmet. A Screener in the distance stands in the faintly-smoldering wreckage with his gun pointed straight at me. As his gun fires again, our entire group of mock-Screeners ducks. The bullet zooms clear over our heads, not even close to skimming us. I practically see the Screener's jaw drop through his meager visor.

I laugh to myself. He thought he could use a surprise encounter to kill us, but he failed miserably due to our rear-view cameras.

After another 20 yards of sprinting, the treeline begins to conceal us. Tanner doesn't slow his pace as we run through a maze of tree trunks, seedlings, and dead logs. Peyton and I leap over a log as we follow Stephen down a random, unmarked path. Birds chirp around us, arching high above our heads. The surrounding greenness is so new to my senses that I nearly observe it in fear.