Novelas y relatos de Lighthouse Landmines

He just looked at me. "The lighthouse is gone, Esmeray," he whispered. "Miller called. They burned it to the ground. They're trying to draw us out. They want us in the open, on the road, where their snipers have the advantage." "Then we don't go to the road," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "We bring them here. To the yard. Between the shipping containers and the cranes. We know the geometry of this place, Ruan. They only know the map."

The ground seemed to tremble beneath her, and her instincts screamed at her to freeze in place. Callie’s gaze darted downward, and her eyes widened in horror as she saw what she had stepped on—an old landmine, its ominous presence now exposed. The device was a lethal relic of the past, waiting silently to be triggered by any unsuspecting weight applied to its pressure plate. The landmine was small but deadly, consisting of a dull metallic body with rusted edges. Its surface bore the scars of time, evidence of years spent buried beneath the earth.

I grab my jacket, a flashlight, and—after a moment's hesitation—the small canister of pepper spray Luna insisted I carry after a tourist got handsy in the bookstore last summer. The lighthouse stands a mile outside town, accessible by a winding coastal path. The night is clear but moonless, making me grateful for the flashlight as I pick my way along the cliff edge. Waves crash against the rocks below, their rhythm like the breathing of some giant creature. The lighthouse itself has been automated for decades, its beam sweeping across the dark water in steady intervals. As I approach, I see a figure silhouetted against the white tower. Not Blackwood, I realize with a jolt. A woman.