I’m also done getting shot at.
I pivot around the loading truck and squeeze a few shots off at the nearest shooters. I miss one, but hit the other square in the chest.
When I pivot back in, Tolya takes my place and finishes the one guy off while knocking off a third.
“You got a car?” he asks.
“God, I hope so.” I check my ammo and toss him a spare magazine I had the presence of mind to grab from the jet. “If it’s not Swiss cheese by now, it’s out back behind the hangar.”
Tolya nods. “Meet you there.” And before I have a chance to protest, he runs out firing and heads for the rear door of the hangar.
Fuck me.
I steel myself for the oncoming onslaught. Don’t get shot. I’ve got too much to lose this time.
My own attempt to make a mad dash for the back exit is cut off by some asshole wi
