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The downside is that this branch isn’t as strong. But then again, I don’t weigh as much as my male colleagues, so where they’d likely break this one and fall off, I won’t.
I lie flat on my stomach, rifle in position, and stare through my lenses. The first thing I do is take in the whole scene.
My mouth fills with saliva, and my body shakes at the sight of dismembered bodies—mostly our soldiers. A crippling fear grabs hold of me at the prospect of seeing either Maksim’s or Yuri’s body. Or even Viktor’s. I’ve somehow gotten used to the stoic grump, and I know for a fact that his loss would hit Captain the most.
Static sounds in my ear, and I startle for a second, thinking it’s another bomb. But then, the distinctive command comes, “Focus, Lipovsky.”
“Yes, sir.” I inhale deeply and close my eyes. When I open them, I’m filled with an unearthly calm.
I don’t wait for orders or think twice as I aim and shoot an insurgent who’s engaged with one of our own. The shot hits him in the head, and he falls to the ground like dead meat.
The soldier stares up for a moment. Like Captain, Team B must’ve figured out that we lost our snipers and, therefore, thought that no one had their backs.
Captain and I do now.
“You better stay alive,” I mouth to myself as the soldier disappears behind a shed.
The moment he’s gone, I aim at another insurgent, half hidden by the bomb’s waste, and take him down with a clean shot to the heart.
My adrenaline level spikes.
Click.
Aim.
Shoot.
The rhythm becomes natural as I lay them to rest one after the other.
“Eleven o’clock,” Captain’s voice sounds in my ear. “You take right. I’ll take left.”
“Copy that.”
I shift in the direction he ordered me to and pause when I see about five insurgents lying on the ground. With shots to the head.
Well, damn. Seems that I’ve underestimated the captain’s shooting abilities. I always thought he was merely the strategist. I didn’t know he was an essential operational force, too.
I shoot two on the right, then pause when I realize I only killed one and got the other in his shoulder. He escapes, holding his injured arm. I follow his movements and aim.
“Don’t!” the captain commands in my ear, but I’ve already taken the shot.
And I miss again.Fuck.
The insurgent disappears behind the chaos of the destroyed warehouse.
“Why did you stop me…?” I ask with a note of frustration.
“Leave position. Now!” he shouts, and I catch a glimpse of someone dressed in all black at the top of the opposite hill before I slip. The shot hits the already fragile branch, and it cracks, taking me down with it.
I loop the rifle around my neck and hold on to another branch. But the sniper takes aim at that one, too. In my frantic movements to escape his aim, I choke myself with the strap of my rifle. With little oxygen reaching my brain and the chest bandages compressing my lungs, my escape attempts become sluggish.
Shit.
I loosen the sling around my neck and continue my way down.
The moment my feet touch the ground, I hide behind the tree, breathing heavily. I start to remove the sling from around my neck—
“Stay still.”
