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Whatever it takes, do not fall behind.

Klimas. He’d promised to get Tim out of there. Tim righted himself, got his feet beneath him and started running, then slowed.

Cooper … none of it mattered without Cooper.

Tim turned back, saw Cooper land face-first on the rubble-strewn pavement.

And behind him, a stumbling man with half his face torn away, dust-caked blood sloughing down the white of his exposed temple and cheekbone, a big-toothed forever smile where his lips no longer were.

He held a red axe.

Cooper … none of it mattered without Cooper.

Tim ran toward them, or tried to, but his leg wouldn’t respond, so he hopped instead.

On the ground, he spotted a head-size shard of concrete.

Tim bent, grabbed, lifted, hopped.

The man limped toward Cooper, one shredded foot dragging along for the ride. He raised the axe into the air, gurgled a wet battle cry, and arched his back to bring the blade down hard.

Tim got there first.

He didn’t recognize the sound that came out of his own mouth. He’d never made a noise like that, not once in his entire existence.

With both arms, he shoved the jagged concrete forward, drove a rough point into the good side of the man’s ruined face. The hard concrete crunched through tooth and bone, rocked the man’s head back, dropped him like he’d been hit by a heavyweight hook.

The axe clattered to the slush-streaked pavement.

“Cooper! Get the f.u.c.k up!”

Cooper crawled forward on raw hands and torn knees, the jeans on his right thigh wet with dust-coated blood.

The half-faced man sat up. He reached for the axe.

Cooper … none of it mattered without Cooper.

Tim Feely stepped forward, the pain in his leg forgotten. He put one foot on the axe, raised the chunk of concrete into the air.

The man looked up — maybe he smiled, but now both sides of his mouth were destroyed, so who could tell?

Tim brought the concrete down like a misshaped hammer: the man’s skull collapsed, folding in on itself in a sickening, liquid crunch.

The man didn’t move.

Tim leaned down, drew a deep breath and screamed a long, unintelligible roar at his dead enemy. The intelligent part of his mind, the educated part, the civilized part, that part had checked out. Something primitive had taken its place.

A hand on his neck, pulling him.

“Feely, come on!”

Klimas. Klimas had come back for him.

The SEAL pulled Tim through the smoke, pushed him, did the same with Cooper, stopped and turned and fired, pushed and pulled them some more.