Bab 809: Pray It Wasn't Too Late

"We have to move! We are under too much fire! Kill the lights now, Samuel!" 

Samuel turned and shot at the bulb light illuminating their position. The number of shots ceased as their enemies tried to make out their position with the light gone. 

"Move! Move! Move!" Marcel whisper-yelled at them, intentionally lowering his voice in case an enemy is nearby and locates them with the sound. Even he knew their enemies were moving position. 

As if to prove his point, a grunt of pain was heard and Marcel knew that a man was down. It was a good thing he came with the best of his men. They moved slowly yet vigilant in anticipation of hostile contact. 

"I need a gun," Winters whispered to him. She already released her bound hands and wanted to help. There was no way she would sit around and do nothing. 

"Have you ever used one before?" Marcel asked her. 

"No, but I'm a quick study." 

"The answer is no."