Because the bastard knew this would happen andstill chose to fucking drive.
Ugh. I force myself to a crouch and try to listen to the sound of the shots fired over panicked screaming. It takes longer than I want it to, but I can identify eight other people in the store, excluding our five. A family of four in the back, the two cashiers hiding behind the counter and two teens huddled close together—in front of us and to the left.
Reuben and Tobias are taking fire in a different aisle, so that means…
“How many of them are there?” Xavier shouts out, but it’s barely a knockon the door outside of my thoughts.
“Six.” The answer escapes the exact moment I figure it out and I regret it immediately because Xavier’s heard me, he’s watching me with new suspicion.
“What did you say?” His eyes narrow, but I remain quiet.
Six guns. Four pistols in the middle and two rifles on each side.
“Is there another exit?” I shout instead and Xavier shakes his head. “Then just hold out for now!” I rummage through his duffle for anything to protect myself and my fingers find a small pistol.
“How the fuck is that going to get us out of this?” Gabriel shouts out.
I want to ignore him but knowing would be for Xavier’s benefit too, “Because Wesley’s outside!” I remind him. “Just hold out!”
Gabriel clicks his teeth under his breath as he reloads, but there’s a pause in the air specifically from the enemy’s rifles and I know they’re reloading at the same time.
If he aims now, he’s going to get shot…
But I can’t say I’m inclined to stop him.
The moment Gabriel takes his aim over the shelf, a bullet tears through his shoulder.
“Fuck!” He curses as he ducks back down, new blood seeping into his shirt sleeve, and I have to resist the wave of disappointment until I see Xavier moving to stand out of the corner of my eye.
No, not you.I pull him right back down just as a bullet flies over his head, and Xavier’s eyes are wide with shock, “Holy shit.”
Gabriel seethes—at me or from the wound I can’t say for sure—but I pretend not to see him as I grab a serrated knife from the duffel and tuck it into the back of my pants.
“Where are yougoing?” Xavier snaps.
I ignore his question, pinning him with a serious stare to make sure he understands, “Wesley is going to draw their attention and redirect their fire. Themoment he does, run and take them out.”
I don’t wait for his response. I’ve heard that pause between shots again, and I’m dashing out of the aisle and into another, in front of us and to the left.
A shot ricochets off the shelf right behind my head, and I crouch beside two kids, no older than maybe 18. A boy and a girl with sharp features, dark skin and golden eyes.
“Hey, just keep holding up. It’ll be over soon,” I try to sound as reassuring as possible, but they only look up at me with wide-eyed fear and suspicion. “These guys aren’t playing around so don’t do anything dumb.Stay.Here. Understand? Don’t go running out even if you think it’s safe.”
They nod their heads quickly, and I only hope they’re smart enough to listen.
I’d counted six guyswith guns. It didn’t mean I’d counted all of them. As far as I’m concerned, the family of four to the back is ten times safer than these two. They are directly between us and ‘them’… and I’m not about to believe they’ll let the kids go.
I crouch behind one end of the shelf, remaining out of sight and out of the line of fire, while readying the knife I’d swiped from Xavier. I’m counting the seconds, because I know they’re coming. Know they’ll want to take advantage of the chaos to corner us.
The moment the barrel of a gun peaks out into the aisle, I grab it and pull it forward with my right hand, knocking the person on the other end off balance and jabbing the knife into his throat with my left. The feel of his blood against my hand and wrist is unfamiliar.
I hear a sound behind me and even though I predicted it, I still messed up. I turn sharply and throw the dagger without time to think and an unfamiliar man with an M16 rifle cries out, my knife rooted deeply in his thigh.
His pain is the only seconds I have.
“Lower!” My command is sharp, and the kids huddle deeper into the ground with terrified yelps as I dash to the other end of the aisle, grabbing a nearby can from the shelf and throwing it with all my might.
It hits him squarely in the face, granting me just two more seconds until I reach him, grabbing the barrel of his gun and directing it away from the aisle and the kids, and pulling out my pistol to press the muzzle deep under his chin.
