17. Briar #2
“All right, Private Squirt, we need you to take out two hostiles. Eastern ridge. Ten o’clock. Over.” Benson’s voice comes through, and I blink, looking for him but not finding him. He must be pretending to scout. I roll my eyes at their dramatics, but a giddy sense of fun rushes through me.
John moves behind me and raises my arms to where they should be. He pulls back one of the ear covers and murmurs, “Make sure to line up the scope with the center of the object, account for the fall direction due to the wind, and—”
Bang.
He sets his finger over mine and squeezes the trigger. The gun kicks back really hard. I’m glad he was holding on because I didn’t expect it at all. The glass bottle in the center of the table shatters.
A huge smile and inaudible laugh escapes from me.
“Nice work, Private Squirt. There’s one more, though. Take them out.” Bensen sounds like he’s actually talking to a comrade, well, or I guess he would if he wasn’t calling me Private Squirt.
I’ll never live that down.
John lets go and moves to stand beside me. I take a deep breath and focus on lining up the scope and the bottle.
Bang.
Nothing happens.
“Crap, I missed.” I let out a frustrated huff.
Taylor pats my shoulder. “Trust me, you’re going to miss a whole bunch more.”
And he’s right. I miss nineteen times before I finally hit one. When I do, I about jump into John’s arms.
“Finally. Let’s get going. This took much longer than expected,” Roman retorts, apparently feeling like he had to add an insult. I don’t even bother looking at him—I’m not even sure when he rejoined us at the firing line.
John’s right. I won’t extend him any of my energy.
The guys start packing up the SUV when I notice a car pulling up through the field. It’s noisy out here with the rustling grass, so I’m not surprised we didn’t hear it coming sooner.
“Um, guys, someone’s here,” I call and they all snap into movement.
“Get in the car, Briar.” John moves in front of me and gives me a little nudge. I’m not going to ask any questions—not after last night at the lake.
I climb inside, and Gale joins me. “Stay low, just in case this is a decoy and there’s an ambush in the grass.” His voice is cold and focused.
A chill moves down my spine as I try to stay as low as I can while watching the approaching truck.
It could just be a civilian or neighboring farmer, couldn’t it? My stomach churns when my eyes flick to Roman and I notice he has his gun clutched tightly behind his back.
Jesus, I bet he has the most blank expression right now too. No one would even know their death was coming. Would I even know? I work my jaw, not putting it off the table that Roman would take me out if he was ordered to. His history is chilling, and it sounds like he always does as he’s told.
The truck rolls to a stop twenty feet from the guys. John and Bensen approach casually, waving and not giving away that they have weapons strapped to their hips.
The driver’s side door slowly opens and a tall male steps out. I shift up in the seat a little more to get a better look.
Gale is facing the other way and watching the fields with his pistol in his hand. “I don’t like this. Something doesn’t feel right,” he whispers.
I swallow thickly. “Why?”
The man leaving the truck is Grahm. My eyes light up, and I’m about to tell them that everything is fine, that he’s probably just out here looking for me, when Roman lifts his pistol in the blink of an eye and shoots toward the SUV me and Gale are sitting in.
My heart stops, and I instinctively close my eyes.
For a moment, I think I scream, but all I can hear are sharp shouts and gunshots as everything around us gets turned upside down.
My hands are clasped around my ears, and I force my eyes open when I feel the car trembling and roaring to life. Gale is already in the driver seat, shifting into gear and flooring the gas.
The SUV tears up the ground as it speeds through the field. The corn is still standing tall in the areas where we didn’t flatten it to practice shooting, and it’s so loud in the car that I can barely hear myself yelling at Gale.
“We can’t leave them! Gale! Gale!” I try to lean forward to touch his shoulder, but he takes a hard turn and my body is thrown against the door. It must not have been closed all the way because it busts open and I’m sent rolling out into the field.
I hear the brakes after a few seconds and a door slam.
“Briar? Shit, are you okay? Briar?” Gale says in a low voice, just above a whisper. The sound of men shouting and shots being fired ring through the air, though they are much more distant now.
“Here,” I rasp, clutching my ribs.
Gale’s on his knees inspecting me swiftly before picking me up in a fireman’s hold and carrying me back to the car. His gaze is steady and not full-blown panic like mine.
“W-we have to go back,” I stutter as he sets me in the back seat and clicks a seat belt over me this time.
Gale’s brows are firm. “We are, but promise me you’ll close your eyes when I tell you to, Squirt.” I don’t even blink at the nickname as I nod.
He gets in the driver’s seat and extends his hand back, offering me a black pistol.
“Uh, Gale, I’m not ready to use that.” I stare down at it, and although it was so easy to use earlier, now it holds an entirely new weight. I can’t shoot at a person with that.
“Just in case I need you,” he says genuinely. “If they need you too.”
They need me? I swallow my fear and steady my trembling hand as I take the gun.
“Ready?” Gale asks, eyes shifting to mine in the rearview mirror.
“Not even a little.”