Die Run Hide by P. M. Kavanaugh

really sending a retrieval team for her, or a kill team? Would she recognize the difference?
    She fingered the packaging of the WideAwake strip. It would be so easy to press one on and let its chemicals flood her system with energy. But it might amp her up and she needed a steady aim to neutralize her tracking chip.
    With regret, she closed the med kit, walked over to the panel next to the hidden bed and inserted her thumb into the small indent at the top. The panel slid open and she removed the laser.
    She thought about the secret freely shared with rookie recruits by senior operatives — that a laser hit to the back of the neck would shut down a tracking chip for up to twenty, sometimes twenty-five hours. Of course, before she could enjoy the hours of freedom, she would first have to live through thirty minutes of scary full body numbness.
    Most recruits tried it at least once. It was like a rite of passage. The aim had to be exact. Too high on the neck could cause brain damage. Too low, temporary paralysis. Hard to enjoy freedom if you weren’t conscious or had to spend it immobilized.
    Anika set the laser to voice control, placed the knapsack on the counter, and arranged the weapon handle in its fold until the barrel rested at the precise angle she wanted. Turning, she knelt on the ground. After two steadying breaths, she opened her mouth to give the command to fire.
    The computer monitor flickered and letters blinked on screen. Gianni . She jumped to her feet, then grimaced at the stab of pain in her thigh.
    She collapsed into the chair. Read the message.
    “I’m here.”
    She typed back, “Acticstte vidisl.” Read it, cursed, shook out her fingers and tried again. “Activate visual.”
    “Can’t,” came the written reply. “I’m at a remote site. Are you safe?”
    “For now. But … ” Her fingers paused, hovering over the keys. She wanted to warn him, wanted to finish the sentence. But you’re not.
    Without visual, though, she couldn’t be sure Gianni was on the other end. She started typing again. “Remember the place we talked about in detention?”
    The screen stayed silent. Seconds passed.
    Then, “Of course.”
    The words seemed to pulse on the screen, like a heartbeat caught in a lie.
    Anika imagined the furor taking place at the other end, the mad rush to locate the surveillance disc from her night in detention, the terse command to unscramble it.
    “Let’s meet there,” she wrote.
    “When?”
    Still trying to review the disc, aren’t you? Even though it wouldn’t provide the answer. She and Gianni hadn’t spoken of a place.
    She had set the trap and Second had walked into it.
    She flicked a glance at the surveillance monitor. Her eyes zeroed in on the two figures prowling through the trees. Their gear was all too familiar: night vision patches, body padding, lasers. Definitely U.N.I.T.
    They had gotten here fast.
    “Computer, close channel,” she typed.
    Only two. Kill team. Fear sliced down her back. Maybe not. Reason warred with panic. Maybe a partial team had been split off from a nearby mission. Maybe that explained the pair.
    The figures conferred with each other, then separated, as if they didn’t know her location.
    Was her tracking chip deactivated? Had Gianni managed to … ?
    One operative stealth-walked toward the farmhouse, while the other approached the storage cellar.
    She hit the switch that released the bed. It glided out from inside the wall. She grabbed the laser and set it to manual. Maximum stun.
    “Computer, lights at twenty percent.” The room dimmed. “On my voice command, bring lights to full power.”
    She slid on her belly under the bed. Waited through five fast breaths. Her ears strained to hear something, anything. Eight, nine, ten. Still nothing. Eleven. A whiff of fresh air snuck into the room.
    She visualized the operative descending the stairs, his back against the wall, eyes searching through the patches, laser extended.
    “Lights,” she