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Into the brush I went, holding one arm forward to protect against sticks and branches and God knew what else. And then I felt it — a booted foot coming down hard on the back of my knee. My leg flew out from under me and I fell sideways, swinging my rifle around as I went…
Then something struck my rifle, and that was gone too.
“Fuck you!”
The words were spat with such venom, such hatred, I actually recoiled from the sound. I looked up to find Asad Bashir standing over me, leveling an evil-looking pistol at my face. His mouth was a horrendous snarl. His eyes were wild and filled with bloodlust.
I put one hand up to shield my face, while bringing the other behind me to grab my own sidearm. Abruptly, a pair of shots rang out. I thought for sure I was dead, until—
“ARRGHH!”
The full weight of a pistol clattered against my helmet. Screaming in pain, my assailant doubled over and fell down on me, clutching his stomach.
“Chief!”
By the time my savior arrived I was already on top of Bashir and yanking his arms violently behind him. I whipped my head left, to see Vaughan bounding over.
“You alright?”
I noticed a curl of smoke drifting up from the barrel of his rifle. Still fighting away the battle-hysteria that came with the usual adrenaline overload, I nodded.
“I think I hit him,” Vaughan breathed.
Securing his wrists, I flipped our quarry over. Blood was already seeping through his shirt, just below his navel.
“He’s gut-shot,” I confirmed. “Twice.”
Vaughan’s expression suddenly changed. He looked legitimately worried. “That good or bad?”
“Bad for him,” I shrugged, watching the pain contort Bashir’s face. “Good for Somalia.”
I stood up, retrieved my rifle, and fixed my optics. Then I punched Vaughan in the chest and hugged him, all in the span of the same two seconds.
“Parker?” I asked quickly.
“He’s fine,” Vaughan assured me. “Took one in the left shin. Looks like it hurts like hell, but it passed right through.”
I let out a relieved laugh. “That’s the third time he’s gotten shot in that same leg. Maybe we should start pinning the purple hearts right onto his knee.”
Vaughan laughed too, until another sound drew our attention. Down at our feet, Bashir’s groans were growing louder.
I took a moment to decide something — a very long moment, actually — before finally shaking my head.
“Get Langston,” I spat, wiping my mouth. “As enjoyable as it would be to watch this piece of dogshit bleed out, I’d rather see him rot in a six-by-eight cell for the rest of his miserable life.”
Fifty-Two
JULIANA
I was just stepping out of the most amazing shower of my life when I heard the sound: a muffled bang from outside, followed quickly by a second one. Neither noise sounded ominous, really. But they didn’t sound natural either.
And this far from civilization, anything unnatural was concerning to say the least.
Wrapping the towel around my dripping body, I crossed into Maverick’s bedroom. Sliding my hand between the two mattresses, I retrieved the thick black handgun I’d found the first time I’d changed the bedsheets.
I knew now that the weapon was an HK45C, with a slimline grip and an underside-mounted crimson trace laser sighting. I’d learned these things over the course of several lessons at Caswell’s shooting range, taken only because I felt safer knowing how to fire the thing rather than use it as a club.
Pistol in hand, I crept smoothly down the staircase to get a view through the lower floor’s front windows. A pair of taillights grew distant, glowed bright red for a moment, then passed through the gates before turning onto the highway.
