Aiming for my father.
‘Dad, get down!’ I scream, then the gun goes off, and everything gets jumbled around.
Dad drops out of the car through the open driver’s door with a garbled curse, onto the grass and dirt. My ears ring with the report of the shot. Harris has scrambled back over me to hammer on the rear passenger window, until Dad reaches over and something clicks. The door opens and Harris and I both roll out of the death-trap seat, into dark air and gunshot claps that rend the fabric of time and space.
‘Amie –’ Dad starts.
‘Are you hit?’ I yell, ducking as another shot thonks into the side of the squaddie. ‘Dad–’
He shakes his head, drawing his sidearm. ‘No, but Jared –’
‘I’ll get him, if you’ll cover me,’ Harris says. ‘Have you got another weapon in the car?’
‘Only the shotgun.’
Two more claps of gunfire – the squaddie rocks a little with the last one. Hunkered in the dust, we hear Ando’s scream of rage.
‘That’ll do,’ Harris says grimly.
‘Can you shoot?’ Dad asks, before dismissing his own question with a swift shake of his head. ‘What am I saying, I saw you knocking holes in speed signs when you were twelve.’
‘Gimme the shotgun,’ Harris says.
‘I didn’t hear you say that.’ Dad scrabbles down low and pulls the shottie out of the front passenger footwell, passes Harris a handful of cartridges. ‘And you didn’t hear me telling you to arm yourself.’
‘Got it.’ Harris nods, checks the action of the gun as he squats with his back pressed to the car. ‘What about Amie?’
‘Jared’s pistol.’ My voice shakes, but I ignore it. ‘Get him back here first.’
Dad flips the safety off his sidearm. ‘How many rounds does Anderson have?’
‘It’s a Bersa,’ Harris says. ‘Fourteen in the clip, one in the chamber. He’ll have another magazine, though.’
‘Right. Harris, are you ready? Stay low.’
‘I’m low, I’m low,’ Harris says fervently, squeezing my panic-clenched fist before ducking to the left of the side we’re on.
Dad squiggles over the driver’s seat and the transmission to aim out the shattered front passenger window. ‘Drop your weapon, Marcus!’ he shouts. ‘Don’t make me shoot you!’
Another shot zings across the hood of the squaddie.
Dad returns fire, and there’s another scream from Ando. I want to plug my hands over my eyes and ears, but I can’t do that because Harris is crawling back, tugging and dragging Jared Capshaw’s long limp body with him. I stay down as I help pull Jared to relative safety, then I’m plunging into action, yanking Jared’s shirt aside to see –
‘Flak vest!’ I could cheer. ‘Oh, thank god.’
Dad backs out of the squaddie to see. ‘Jared, good man. Now if we could get this bastard to stop –’
There’s a crack, and Dad spins, falls into dirt and shadow.
‘DAD!’ I shriek, lunge for him as he groans.
Harris stands smoothly, bringing the shotgun to his shoulder over the car roof. ‘Ando, if you fire again, I’m gonna drop you.’
‘Just shoot him!’ Dad hisses, his eyes screwing up as I apply pressure to the black-red at his shoulder.
‘FUCK. YOU.’ Ando bellows. He punctuates each word with a shot.
Harris doesn’t even flinch.
