Ten minutes go by, then twenty.
My finger hovers over the trigger, waiting for the moment he comes back into view.
Pulling in the air from the cold night, I let it seep into my lungs, releasing it slowly. I try to keep my pulse at a steady level, but my grip is starting to ache.
I haven’t yet mastered the long game for a rifle. I’m a vigilante, for Christ’s sake; I’ve no plans to take out anyone from a sniper long distance.
Being up close and personal suits me better, and it’s wild, because the risks are greater.
This is all about practice for wheneverthose twoshow their faces again. I make sure to note any weaknesses I have and snuff them out.
When the dark figure comes back into my aiming pattern, my hand slowly glides to flick the laser target on. A one-and-done shot if this gives me some time to startle him, a bold fucking move on my part. I’ve never used it, and I’m hoping I’m blessed with beginner’s luck.
My lungs empty into an icy fog when I’m met with another scope staring directly back at me.
Bullets crack through the air, and they aren’t mine.
“Shit!” I squeal, throwing the rifle around my back.
My hands and feet skid through the marshy ground as I clamber to rise to my feet. A bullet whipping past my ear jolts me to standing. And then I’m running like thunder through the woods.
Oh, how the predator turns into the prey.
“What the fuck is happening, Indie!” Regina shouts in my ear, her voice almost muffled as my pulse roars.
“He’s got a gun and spotted me. He’s shooting.” I gasp, my heart pounding, ready to explode through my ribcage.
I’m running for my fucking life as pain starts to burn in my chest, my rifle smacking off my back. I’m almost ready to abandon it, until everything goes white.
Bright floodlights erupt around the forest, and the sound of shutters opening echoes around me, the once night-cladded forest beaming brighter than anything I’ve seen before.
It forces me to slam to a stop, the sudden jarring of movement causing me to collapse on the soggy ground.
Oh fuck, I’m really up shit creek without a paddle here.
I can barely see, the light stinging my eyes as I stumble to get back on my feet, toppling to the side as my vision fights against the beams.
Have I died?
The confirmation I haven’t comes from Regina screaming in my earpiece.
“Indie, run!” Her voice cracks with panic through the static, causing me to wince.
I force my twinging eyes to open, picking back up a run towards the direction I was heading.
I’m still rapidly blinking, my eyes feeling on fucking fire. My clothing is soaked from lying in the moss, the expanding material feels like it’s weighing me down, and I can feel the mud hardening like clay on my hands.
Bullets zip from behind me. My head ducks low when one impales itself into a tree next to me, the wood splintering and sending shards across my face.
If I was an inch to the left—I’d be dead.
Another causes a scream to rip from my throat.
If I don’t die from one of those, it will be the rate my heart’s skittering at.
I feel like I’m running forever, the road never seeming to come into view. My feet scream and my calves burn; the cold air has my limbs thumping with aches, but I manage to reach the corner of the forest where the painful strain from the lights has dimmed, the white glare no longer lasering as harshly in this area.
“I’m almost there,” I pant through harsh breaths, my chest feeling like I’ve ingested boiling water as I struggle to breathe through the ice air.
