Read Dom Wars: Round 6 for Free Online Page B

“Squat. We’ll be getting this flag while you do. We won’t peek.”
    “Or listen!” Tara cried.
    Humor had edged his deep voice that seemed even deeper in the silent morning. I leaned and kissed Tara. “Well, he’s right.”
    “Fine fine,” she said lightly, briskly heading to the spot like she could care less. That was fine by me, little miss attitude, just so she did as she was told, she could throw a tantrum all she liked.
    I hurried to Preacher who stared up at the flag tied in the tree. “I’ll hoist you up, you grab it?” He regarded me when I didn’t answer. “You’re not hoisting me, Bane.”
    “On your shoulders?”
    Preacher got on his knees and whacked the back of his neck. “Let’s do it.”
    I didn’t bother wasting another second, no time for pride. I climbed aboard. “Ready.”
    Preacher stood and I locked my feet around his back steadying myself. “Stocky fucker, aren’t you?” His words strained a bit under my weight and I grinned.
    “I eat my Wheaties man.”
    “Any day now.”
    I yanked the blue material and an object fell with it followed with an eruption of smoke that burned the fuck out of my eyes.
    I hit the ground with Preacher, both of us scrambling out of the smoke flooding the area while the women went on total freak out.
    “Fuuuuuck!” Preacher roared. “Stay out of the smoke Becca and Tara!”
    Every reflex clamped my eyes shut against the insane burning as I crawled in a direction hopefully away from the smoke.
    “Here, Lucian, this way!” Tara yelled.
    I followed her voice coughing through the pain in my lungs, nose, and eyes. I finally felt Tara’s hand on my arm, lifting me. “Jesus it fucking burns! Aaagh fuck!”
    “Move out of the smoke,” Preacher ordered. I followed Tara’s pulling for several feet. “This is far enough. I’ll get some water, stay here.”
    A few seconds later and Preacher’s rough voice was there again. “Open your eyes, I need to rinse them.”
    I manually held my eyes open while he poured water for several seconds.
    “Stay still, almost done.” A round of coughing seized Preacher while Becca and Tara coughed on and off too. “Mother fucker baits the flags,” Preacher wheezed. “We’ll be ready next time my brother. Hold still, almost done.”
    “Don’t use all the water,” I gasped, jerking away as a round of violent coughing took me. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”
    “Don’t wipe your face on your sleeve man!” Preacher boomed. “Here, use this.” He put a cloth in my hand and I couldn’t help wonder what the fuck it was and where it’d been. “It’s Becca’s, and no, I didn’t blow my nose or wipe my ass on it.”
    Yeah, that’s exactly what I was wondering. I dabbed the material over my eyes carefully.
    When I could finally see, the smoke clung to the air like ghost’s breath, hovering in a perfect band about six feet off the ground. “We need to move. Bane, we’ll crawl to get our stuff. That shit’s not moving out in this airless place.”
    “We’re coming to help,” Becca announced, her tone saying no was not an option.
    “Fine, stay low,” Preacher said.
    We all crawled back and loaded our gear, then dragged everything out from under the smoke. Once clear, we stood and without a word, Preacher got the bug spray and handed it to Becca and we all took turns applying only exactly what we needed. We’d gotten the drill from Preacher about conserving everything, even the spit in our mouths. Nothing was to be used unless absolutely necessary.
    What did he expect, to get stranded out here? I reminded him this was a game and we had an audience watching us. His response was a disturbing smirk that made me plan to speak privately with him about what the fuck it was supposed to mean. Did he know something I didn’t?
    After the bug repellent, we had breakfast which was several bites of the beef jerky and plenty of the water the women had boiled last night and refilled our empty bottles with. Wasn’t sure