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The hole in the wall isn’t all they’d have liked. It is not a doorway, just a hole barely big enough to crawl through. Rio points her rifle into the dark hole and fires off a whole clip, eight rounds. No response.
Rio sticks her head through the hole, calls for Jenou to hand her a flashlight, and points the beam around.
“Looks like the entrance to an apartment building,” Rio reports. “Stairs and mailboxes.” She squeezes through.
A tiny, wiry-haired dog stands its ground and barks furiously at her. “Hey, boy, relax. They should name you Lucky, pooch. I could have shot you.”
Jenou fishes a bit of cracker from her pocket, kneels, and hands it to the dog. The dog eats it greedily and immediately starts barking again.
“Ingrate.”
They repeat the process six more times. Sometimes the explosions are so closely timed they are indistinguishable. Other times there’s a full second between. Rio wonders what the Kraut sniper can possibly be making of all this.
But at last they reach a looted grocer’s, every shelf empty. Through the jagged glass-ringed hole where the store’s front window had once been she can cautiously look out and see a doorway into the sniper’s lair.
“Cat,” Rio calls.
“She found another toilet,” Jenou says.
“Okay, then you go back and tell Stick we’ve got a ten-foot gap between this spot and that door.” She points.
Jenou runs off, and Cat returns looking both embarrassed and belligerent. “Hey, if I find a toilet I’m using it.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
They wait in the dusty silence of the eerily vacant shop.
“Suarez, man,” Cat says. “That’s FUBAR.”
“Yeah.”
“He was okay. Pain in the ass and all, but . . .”
“Yeah.”
Jenou comes climbing laboriously back through the various grenade holes. Stick and Jack are with her. As the five of them contemplate their objective, Rio says, “I got the door.”
“No,” Stick says.
“What do you mean, no?” Rio demands.
“You’re not fighting the war by yourself, Richlin,” Sergeant Sticklin says, and a part of Rio’s mind marvels at the authority in his voice. He’s always been a serious, mature sort of person, but he’s becoming something more. It seems unimaginable that Rio would ever be able to master that sort of voice herself.
Jack says, “Yeah, Rio, let other people play. I’ll go.”
“Whoa,” Rio says, ready to object.
Stick holds up a hand, silencing her. “When you’re sergeant, you’ll make the call,” he says.
Rio says, “But . . .” and looks anxiously at Jack. The extremely vivid image of Tilo Suarez fills her vision. But another part of her mind takes in When you’re sergeant and files it away for later contemplation.
Jack is already in position. “You suppose that door over there is locked?” He sounds calm, even casual.
“Nah, sniper’s gotta think some of his own boys might try to get in,” Cat suggests.
“Fingers crossed,” Jack says. He winks at Rio. He takes a deep breath and leaps through the shattered window, four fast steps and he’s at the door. He turns the lever handle and is inside in less than three seconds. Rio is right behind him, not waiting for Stick’s permission.
There is no fire from above. The sniper has not seen them. Yet.
