Kelly checked her rifle and ran to the other side of the street, nodding to one of her volunteers who was stacking furniture into a barricade in the middle of the road. Just then, the sound of an explosion ripped through the entire town and a shockwave rumbled through the ground at Kelly’s feet.
“Gracia, what was that?” she said into her radio.
“Mortars,” Gracia’s voice crackled through. “They got a few of ‘em.”
“Anyone injured?”
“Negative. They’re lousy shots.”
“Can you count how many?” Kelly reached the base of the water tower, hopped over her trip-mine and began climbing the ladder, which rattled violently as another shell exploded much closer.
“That one damn near seared my eyebrows off,” said Bernard.
“Can you give me a number?”
“Three I think,” said Gracia. “Bernard, confirm.”
“Yeah, I count three.”
“Okay then,” said Kelly. “I’m back at the water tower. Tell me what’s going on.”
“There’s a mortar team set up on the east road about 300 meters out. Two armoured vehicles are on their way.”
Kelly propped herself up against the water tower’s railing. A light warm wind brushed against her skin and tugged at the flag she had placed by the east road. Based on the flow of dust kicked up over the valley and the numbers on her wind-gage, these were going to be some tricky shots. She raised her binoculars and scanned for the mortar crew, ignoring the approaching vehicles for now even though she spotted Gustav Lynwood’s bulky form in the passenger seat of the leading car. Be patient, she told herself. The mortars are your priority. And there they were, spread among tufts of grass around an idle armoured vehicle. Kelly watched a man load the shell and heard a distant thunk as it launched towards her, and with a deafening blast the explosion crumbled a building on the south-east front of the town.
“We’re over here you pansies!” Bernard shouted.
Kelly stifled a smile and cocked her rifle. “Bernard, I like your enthusiasm but keep it off the radio.”
“Roger that, Lieutenant. Apologies.”
Kelly’s breathing slowed as she lined up the shot. She took long, deep breaths, and the sound of wind and roaring engines faded to a distant muffle. She became aware of the steady beating of her heart. The target was distant and faceless, just a shape in the grass. Check wind. Exhale. Squeeze the trigger. Feel the jolt of the rifle.
“Target down,” Kelly reported.
Nine.
She had to be quick if she wanted to eliminate the other two before they could launch another shell. But sniper training rarely ever called for haste, and Kelly rarely missed. She’d have time to stop one more gunman, if she took the shot right away. She watched him prime the shell and raise it for loading. Exhale. Squeeze.
The bullet struck the target in the upper chest. His arm jolted up as he fell backwards and the shell flew into the air. Kelly drew back as the explosion took out the remaining gunner and nearly hurled the armoured car onto its side, and sure as hell disabled it.
“Bloody good shot!” Bernard cried.
“You just saved our skins,” said Gracia with an air of relief.
“That was an accident,” Kelly breathed. “But the fight isn’t over. Get ready.”
“You mind taking out those cars while you’re at it?” said Bernard with a chuckle.
And then Dunstan’s voice came through. “Two more vehicles en route. ETA ten minutes.”
Kelly watched Gustav’s black SUV zoom closer and closer towards the town. She loaded a round into the chamber and looked down sights. “He’s almost in range,” she told Bernard and Gracia. “Save your bullets. Let them get close. I’ll do what I can.”
Hitting a target going that fast at such a range would be tricky. Kelly quickly adjusted her sights and gaged the SUV’s speed, the angle of approach, the wind speed, and keeping both eyes open she focused on the target, the grille. She aimed a little way ahead, low, remembering to follow through. Exhale. Squeeze. The rifle jolted as it fired and a pillar of dust shot up right near the SUV’s right front tyre.
“Shit…”
But Kelly didn’t waste time stressing about a missed shot. She repeated the process again. Calmly. Collectively. Focus. Exhale. Fire again. Two shot this time. Both seemed to pierce the engine block.
“That’s a hit,” Gracia reported. “They’re slowing down.”
By the time the SUV would stop however they would be right in front of the forward barricade. Kelly reloaded her rifle and drew her sights on the windshield of the car. She aimed for the driver. Exhale. Fire. The windshield cracked, a clean bullet hole, and the SUV swerved off the road and then corrected itself. Kelly had either winged the driver or missed, but he was definitely still alive.
“I’ve done all I can,” said Kelly, apologetically. “Get ready.”
The two SUVs beared down upon the forward barricade like a storm. Gustav’s reinforcements appeared around the distant curve in the road.
“Do we engage?” said one of Bernard’s men.
“Hold,” said Kelly. “Stay hidden. Let them get close. Hold.” She waited until both vehicles were right in front of the barricade and had begun to slow down. Puffs of white smoke were seeping from Gustav’s car. “Light ‘em up.”
Kelly listened to the patter and echo of assault rifles down below. Gustav and four others poured out of the lead car, and using their vehicle for cover, promptly returned fire, but not before two of them were gunned down in the initial assault. The second car stopped, doors swung open, and Kelly felt a flutter of doubt in her stomach.
“Five more in the second car,” she reported.
Their eight against her six, with enemy reinforcements just minutes away. Gustav’s forces were, of course, aware of Kelly’s position, and ensured that they were out of her line of fire. Kelly watched them intently. As soon as a target breached cover to return fire at Bernard and Gracia they left themselves open, and that’s when Kelly made her shot. She clipped the top of their head through the window of the opened door; a spurt of blood and brains splattered the man behind him.
Twelve.
The two reinforcement cars were almost in position, and looking through her rifle scope Kelly saw that they were both filled with enemies.
“This is your cue,” said Kelly. “Forward defences are to pop smoke screen and fall back, overwatch get ready to cover their retreat. Dunstan get ready on those charges. Bernard and Gracia, good luck down there.”
“On it,” said Gracia. “Deploying smoke.”
The smoke screens appeared almost instantaneously; thick white clouds spilling from two grenades rolling at Bernard and Gracia’s feet. The smoke blew north and uphill, and would allow just enough time for the six people defending the forward barricade to escape into the town. Gustav’s men had no shortage of bullets and fired aimlessly into the cloud, but Kelly was quick to retaliate, and clocked another kill, number thirteen, that forced Gustav’s men to stay down for the precious few seconds that Gracia and Bernard would need to escape. Kelly had placed another marksman, John, on the roof of the storage shed; he missed most of his shots but kept the pressure down on the enemy.
Kelly knew that the disadvantage to using smoke was that she gave the enemy a few seconds of cover while they advanced, at the moment Kelly was blind, of course that wouldn’t be a problem soon.
“John, what do you see?” she said.
“Forward defence have made it through,” John answered, a little shakily.
“You’re doing fine soldier. Anyone hit?”
“No… uh negative.”
“What’s Gustav doing?”
“They’re coming up.”
“Dunstan, you got a clear feed from John?” Kelly asked.
“I see them,” Dunstan replied.
“Good. Remember, don’t blow the charges until they’ve all crossed the forward barricade. Let a few into the town if you have to. Our main target is Gustav.”
When the smoke cleared Kelly spotted a woman in the middle of the road, firing at an upstairs window on the left; she’d exposed herself to shoot at a hologram. Kelly hesitated, took a deep breath, lined up the shot, exhaled, squeezed the trigger. The bullet struck the woman in the back and she dropped her rifle and tumbled down.
Fourteen.
A rapid but fairly loud explosion detonated near the front of the storage shed, one of the trip wires. The enemy were spreading out now.
“Lieutenant?” came Dunstan’s voice.
“Not yet,” Kelly replied. She had lost visual on Gustav and it was imperative that she took him down dead or alive.
Another voice came over Kelly’s radio, one of her new soldiers, Katie, she thought.
“Lieutenant, I saw two bad guys, uh, hostiles, go between the storage shed and the general store, watch—”
A blast at the base of the water tower caused Kelly to miss the rest of the message, but the explosion belonged to the trip wire that she had placed there earlier, and as a reflex response she whipped out her sidearm.
“I hear you,” she replied to Katie. “They’re right under me.”
Kelly stared down the ladder at the incapacitated body lying face down on the edge of a small dark crater. Fifteen. The aroma of explosives and burnt flesh was hot in the air as Kelly slid down the ladder and scanned for the second hostile, her Beretta raised and ready to fire. Suddenly everything seemed quiet and Kelly slowed her breathing and focused her mind.
A radio attached to the body at her feet unleashed a sound of static.
“Civilians are hiding in the town hall,” said Gustav’s voice. “Do not engage the town hall. I repeat, do not engage the town hall.”
Kelly quickly reported to the others, saying, “Gustav knows where the civilians are, I intercepted a radio message. He’s warned his men not to engage the town hall.”
“And we’re supposed to trust that?” asked Dunstan.
“No,” said Kelly. “I think he’s after Penelope. Don’t ask me why. As long as she’s secure with the others I don’t think he’ll harm them.”
“Penelope? I don’t see why—”
“Dunstan!”
“Right.”
“Kelly, Penelope’s not at the town hall,” said Santiago suddenly. “I’ve lost her!”
Kelly immediately felt an icy ball in her chest, a blade piercing her through. Penelope, lost. Was this her fault? No. It wasn’t too late.
“Does anyone have eyes on Penelope?” she said, and she ran down the alley towards the main street.
“Negative,” answered Dunstan. “But we have another problem—”
“They’ve reached the second barricade,” Bernard shouted.
“If they get through they’ll reach the hotel and the town hall,” said Dunstan.
Kelly sighed. “I’m well aware of that—”
Her head suddenly span as an attacker rushed from around the corner and struck the left side of her face, the punch broke skin but she barely felt it, even as the force of the blow knocked her face first into a nearby wall. Kelly spun around and saw the pistol in her opponent’s hand. She lunged for it and turned the barrel just as the weapon fired, and while holding her attacker’s gun hand she raised her Beretta. Soon they were locked in a death grip, each with a hand on the other’s gun. Kelly’s attacker took three heavy strides forward and shoved Kelly’s back against the wall. She threw her head forward and busted his nose, breaking his concentration long enough for her to twist his gun hand and have the weapon fall to the ground. He stepped back, reaching for Kelly’s Beretta with both hands but she wouldn’t let go, wouldn’t give an inch. But slowly he gained the upper hand and the barrel turned just a fraction towards Kelly’s abdomen—if it went off she’d be in trouble. She adjusted tactics, shifted her stance, turned her back to her attacker and pulled the weapon away from her body. The attacker’s arms were wrapped around her now, his hands still clutching her wrists, so she threw her head backwards as hard she could and felt a crunch as her skull impacted with his already broken nose. He cried out in anguish, blood gushing down his chin. Kelly turned, jammed the muzzle into his stomach and fired twice. He staggered back, his shirt soaked in blood. Kelly raised the Beretta and shot him between the eyes.
“We should fall back,” Bernard cried out. “We’ll lose the second barricade.”
“Is everyone clear?” said Gracia.
A moment later Dunstan reported, “I count nine.”
“Roger,” said Kelly. “Everyone get clear. Dunstan, blow the charges.”
“Hold on to your butts.”
Kelly stayed in the alley, knelt down, pushed her shoulder to the wall, closed her eyes and covered her ears with her palms. The explosion sent a violent tremble through the earth and a deep rolling echo across the valley. Kelly opened her eyes and peered around the corner to see smoke and dust sweeping from the main road into the town. She heard the patter of rocks falling from the sky, and the cries of Gustav’s men.
The radio on the body near Kelly sounded. Gustav’s voice. “Retreat, dammit. Don’t pursue any further! Regroup at the cars.”
“They’re falling back,” Kelly reported. “We did it.”
She felt an air of relief, but only for a moment.
“It won’t be long before they return,” said Gracia. “We should attack.”
“No.” Kelly stepped out into the street and looked around—the place was a mess, full of bullet holes, burns, dust and debris. A handful of Gustav’s people lay dead, and more were wounded. “Tend to the wounded, our and theirs. Take their weapons and supplies and gather the dead.”
“You heard her,” said Bernard. “Get to it.”
Kelly had another more urgent task to attend to first—Penelope. A rising sense of dread overwhelmed her as she went from building to building but found nothing, and it only got worse as she moved to the front of the town. One of the buildings had been ruined in the fight, an explosion had destroyed one of the upstairs rooms and the ground floor was littered with glass and debris that crunched under Kelly’s feet as she stepped inside.
“Penelope!”
Footsteps. The little girl stepped into the room, her skin and hair coated in a fine dark layer of dust, her hazel eyes shining. Penelope ran forward and wrapped her arms around Kelly’s waist. Kelly could barely speak as she hugged the girl back.
“I was so scared,” Penelope whimpered.
“Me too,” said Kelly, and she stroked Penelope’s hair. “Me too.” He touched her earpiece. “Santiago, I’ve found her, she’s okay.”
“Thank god,” Santiago breathed.
“We better get you back to your dad.”
Kelly put her hands on Penelope’s shoulders and stepped back, and another wave of panic overcame her. Penelope’s chest and face were covered with dark blood.
Kelly gasped. “You’re…”
No. She was fine just a moment ago. This wasn’t an injury. Kelly touched her gently and turned her head to make sure that she was okay. There was no wound. And then she looked down at her own torso. She hadn’t realised until now the amount of blood that covered her clothes and her hands. That man she had killed in the alley, it was his blood.
“I’m okay,” said Penelope. She realised that someone was wrong with Kelly. She reached out and tenderly took Kelly’s hand, and then hugged her again.
“You’re okay,” Kelly breathed. “Thank god you’re okay.”
The girl was safe. The fight was over for now. But the sight of that blood on little Penelope would haunt Kelly for the rest of her life.
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