If it had been me, I would have missed.
Tekqua’s bullet lodges in one man’s neck. The Hunter’s partner bellows, his head whipping toward us. Arm raised, his bullets dart toward us like lightning. The windows of the SUV shatter, little bits of Plexiglass pelting me and catching in my hair.
Tekqua scrambles out of the car and grabs my elbow.
“Come on! Keep your gun up.”
I yank it from its holster, trying to recall how to hold it, how to fire, but my brain can’t remember—probably since the breath in my lungs is composed singularly of fear instead of oxygen.
I follow Tekqua like a lifeline.
Ducking low, we dart through grass and flowerbeds, weaving between trees and picket fences.
“Get out here!” the Hunter behind us screams.
Endless streams of bullets chink against the metal of cars or burrow into wood as we run. How many guns does he have? He has to run out of ammo eventually. We’ve been set upon by a predator, and this guy isn’t stopping until we’re dead.
“What do we do?” I whisper as we pause behind a dried-up cement fountain.
She looks up the street. It curves to the south. “We have to lose him.”
“I don’t think we can outrun him.”
We edge our way to the next driveway and duck behind a diesel truck. A bullet ricochets off its roof.
Tekqua peeks around the truck bed.
“There she is!” the man calls, and she pulls back quickly.
“Fuck! There’s two of them now.”
I sneak to the other end of the truck and inch my way toward the front bumper. A Hunter stands alone beside a tree, catcalling Tekqua.
With a thunderous boom, a hole tears through the Hunter’s chest from behind. He slumps to the ground, wheezing and clutching at the wound.
Who the hell did that?
A thump draws my attention back to Tekqua.
She’s pinned to the truck by another Hunter, a gun pressed to her temple.
“You dare kill my man, bitch?”
All thoughts flee my brain, and I react on instinct alone. I stand from my crouched position, raising my pistol.
Click. Click. Boom.
The Hunter sinks to the ground, lifeless.
And something wrenches hard inside my chest.
I just killed a man. I’ve never killed anyone before.
Shaking, Tekqua stares down at the dead man. “Holy shit.”
Two of our men run past. “Come on!” one shouts. “They’re backing off now. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Tekqua takes my hand once more, and we sprint the half mile to the safe house. She drags me to the downstairs bathroom, where I collapse onto the edge of the tub.
