299 Days: The Collapse by Glen Tate Page A

toward Ron’s car. He was more afraid of getting in a car wreck than he was of the shooting from the men. He felt a surge of confidence as he remembered Ted telling him that most bad guys are shitty shots. Grant punched the gas pedal and raced toward the gunfire.
    Ron used his car door for cover and started firing into the air above their heads. Damn! That shotgun was loud. Lights started coming in on the surrounding houses. Ron shot five or six rounds at them. Grant wasn’t sure how many; he was concentrating on getting in between Ron and the crowd with his car. Ron would need to reload soon, and that took a while with a shotgun. Probably too long for Ron.
    When Ron stopped shooting to reload, the pack of men started to run toward Ron. They were about seventy yards from his car, still silhouetted by the street lights.
    Grant’s foot was all the way down on the gas pedal. He was driving straight into the crowd. He didn’t really have a plan. He just kept thinking he needed to get between the crowd and Ron.
    Grant flew past Ron and slammed on the brakes. He was about to plow into the crowd of men. He skidded and stopped about ten yards in front of Ron’s car. Grant prayed that Ron didn’t shoot him as he zoomed in front Ron, who had reloaded and was blazing away with a shotgun. The hours of training with the Team made it so that Grant wasn’t bothered by the shooting happening all around him.
    Grant could see and hear the crowd as it approached his car. They were about twenty-five yards away. Grant opened his door, jumped out of the driver’s side, got behind the door, smoothly drew his pistol, and got in the kneeling position, using the car door for cover. The closest people in the crowd were now about ten yards away. Grant could see their faces. They were running full speed at him. So many of them. To Grant, they were just like a bunch of steel targets when he was at the range with the Team. Just pick one and then another and keep going. No big deal.
    Grant put his front sight on the closest bad guy. The glow-in-the-dark three-dot sights told him exactly where the shot would go and the street light lit up the target, who was right on him. Grant got a good grip and pressed the trigger. He felt the recoil but didn’t really hear the shot. The guy was hit, but kept coming. Grant put a quick second one in him; right in his chest. The bad guy stopped cold right in front of him, but his forward momentum kept him flying toward Grant. The others in the crowd were further behind the first guy, but close and getting closer.
    Grant flashed back to his training with the Team. Shooting at those human-shaped steel targets was paying off. The men were moving, but they were just targets to hit. Grant shot them one right after another. Efficiently. It didn’t feel like shooting a person; it felt like shooting steel target. After he hit a few of the targets, they quit charging him and started to turn around.
    He felt someone come up behind him, and swung around, prepared to shoot whoever was attacking him from behind. It was Ron. Grant turned back around toward the crowd, and realized he had used the cover of his car door for quite a few shots so it was time to find new cover. He looked around for any close-in threats. He looked behind him and Ron. He remembered Ted telling him that bad guys have a tendency to be where you least expect them, so search and assess after you shoot. Constantly look for threats.
    There weren’t any. By this time, Ron was up against Grant’s car door for cover. Ron didn’t have his shotgun, but he had his pistol in his hand.
    “Stay here!” Grant yelled. Then he yelled, “Moving!” like he had with the Team. Ron looked at him funny. Grant suddenly remembered that Ron didn’t know those commands. Ron looked at Grant as if to say, “OK, move if you want.”
    Grant ran to the rear of the car, around the back from the driver’s side to the passenger side, and—now he was scared—popped up and fired