Chapter 8
The next two days it was back to training for Dylan. He learned palm heel strikes, barely missing sending Emmet to the ground several times in the process of what was supposed to be ‘getting the feel of it first,’ in Emmet’s words. He also proved to be better than either he or Mars expected with a sniper rifle. “Good eyesight,” he bragged.
“Luck,” Mars retorted, giving him a fast hug.
Tuesday morning, Dylan was about to practice another evasive driving maneuver when Mars came to get him.
“I got a call from Alastair,” Mars said. “He wants us packed and ready to move in an hour.”
“Where are we going?”
“He wouldn’t say. Just told me it involved Webb. He’s sending a helicopter.”
Dylan nodded. “So we can presume Webb’s got someone here who’ll try to take us out if we use your b
