“And you?”
“Can’t sit here and wait for him to pin me down.” He held her gaze in the darkness. “I’m going after him.”
22
“No matter what happens, stay put and use the gun if needed.” Micha had given Ava his backup, and now he gave her a hug and drew his weapon.
He crept to the door. Stepped out. Crouched down. Waited for the shooter to materialize in the dark again. Gun raised.
Nothing. No one.
Micha couldn’t linger out in the open. Gun still in shooting position, he bolted for the trees.
A shot rang out. The bullet sliced through his upper arm. The pain pierced his body, and he took a tumble on the slight incline. He rolled and rolled, the arm screaming in agony on each turn. So what? He now knew the shooter’s location. If Micha moved fast but quietly, he could circle around and take him from behind.
He bent low. Kept moving. In and out of trees. Blood trickled warm on his arm.
Please let it just be a scratch. I have to save her. Please.
The song lyrics forHold On To Mecame back again.
He would do more than hold on. He would let go. Trust.
I can’t do this alone anymore. I have reached the end. I need You.
Micha released his need to control everything. Moved confidently ahead, doing his best but relying on God on the way. He felt like David going after Goliath. Micha might be facing a giant, but he had God on his side.
He skirted through the woods. Coming parallel to the shooter. Micha spotted him but was too far away to make out his face. The guy stood. Feet planted. Arms out. Gun in hand. A solid shooting position that, if he hadn’t been coming for them, Micha could admire. The shooter knew what he was doing and felt confident doing it.
Didn’t matter. None of it. Not who he was or how confident he was. Micha had to take him down, no matter what.
He eased slowly ahead. Ducking when needed. Belly crawling at times. His military training all coming back.
Once a Marine, always a Marine.
On and on he moved. Passing behind the shooter. Turning toward him after he’d left enough room. He disturbed a bird. It took flight.
The shooter spun. Fired.
“Stupid bird,” the shooter mumbled. “Too bad I didn’t wing you.”
Micha gave the shooter time to settle down, then started his forward movement again. Slow. One foot in front of the other. Treading on the wet ground littered with pine needles. Thankfully wet from the rain instead of crunchy to give him away.
He came close to the shooter.
Ten feet. Five. Three.
“Drop your weapon,” Micha called out.
The shooter spun. Held fast to his gun. Steadied his arm.
He’s going to fire.
Micha launched himself. Flew through the air and barreled into him. Took him down. Losing his own weapon in the process but freeing his hands. He grabbed the shooter’s hand. Wrestled for control of the guy’s gun. It went off. The bullet went wide.
Micha slammed his elbow into the guy’s wrist. The gun loosened, but he held on.
“You heard him!” Ava’s voice came from above. “I have my gun trained on you, now drop yours.”
