Sam Fisher- Thrown by Grenade

  With his lips chapped and nose sore from the cold, Fisher dragged himself up another ten meters, the grade nearly 40 percent now, his breath ragged. He had to stop, find some air, find some way to actually catch his breath.

  And that’s when the grenade went off.

  The white-hot blinding flash, followed by the ear-rattling ka-boom sent him crashing forward and burying his face in the dirt. Grim and Charlie were screaming in his ear for him to move, and for a moment, the world seemed to tip on its axis.

  There was no rush of imagery from his past, no reflections on his divorce, or anything else—just that terrible ringing and white noise, the blinding flashes like old flashbulbs going off repeatedly in his face.

  One of those flashes turned into a lightning bolt with still images printed along its surface, each cell depicting Sarah receiving the news of his death. No, he couldn’t put her through that . . .

  Muted gunfire stitched up the mountainside, and he could feel the rounds thumping into the earth behind him. Was he hit by shrapnel? Was he okay? Where the hell was he?

  The moment came down like an avalanche, and barely conscious of his movements, he was already on his feet, digging in deep, charging up the mountain, with more gunfire trailing. He ripped free a grenade, pulled the pin, and tossed it over his shoulder without looking.

  To his left rose a stand of pines, and he darted toward them, boots sliding as he fought against the incline, his ears ringing loudly from the explosions.

- Blacklist Aftermath, Chapter 9