Charles

The night vision you were given wasn't designed for these conditions. Water seeps into your boots, the damp tunnel air fills your lungs as you carefully examine the explosive device. Years of training have taught you to concentrate completely on the wires in front of you.

You didn't hear him approach.

"Don't move." The voice is calm, professional—the knife is pressed to your throat, while your arm is painfully twisted behind your back. You feel the grip of someone who knows exactly how much pressure to apply.

"State your name and unit," Karl Sanders says, his voice barely audible over the dripping water. "Of course, you don't have to answer." He tightens his grip on your gloved hand, curling it higher between your shoulder blades. "But I think we both know how that one ends."