toward the crowd. He didn’t have a target; he was just shooting to keep their heads down.
There was no one there. They seemed to be gone. Grant fired fast until his pistol magazine was empty. Without even thinking, he yelled “check” ejected the magazine, and slammed in a new one. He racked his pistol and started scanning the area for additional bad guys, but he didn’t see any.
“Get in the car and let’s go!” Grant yelled to Ron. Ron got in the driver’s seat and threw the car into reverse once Grant was in the passenger seat.
Ron had moved Grant’s AR out of the passenger seat so Grant wouldn’t smash into it. They backed out of the area quickly; Ron tried not to hit his own car in the process.
Ron quickly backed the car into the intersection of two streets about 150 yards from the entrance and turned around so he was now driving forward. He was driving toward his house when Grant said, “We have to go back to make sure they don’t come back.” Ron abruptly turned the car around, and they flew back to Ron’s car stopped in the middle of the street. They stopped and jumped out of Grant’s car. Grant saw his AR in the back seat. He grabbed it and used the roof of his car as a rest to aim the rifle, which was pointed toward the entrance to the subdivision. Grant wondered why he hadn’t used his rifle in the first place. Why had he engaged targets with this pistol instead of his rifle, which would have been better? Because this is my first gunfight, Grant thought to himself.
A car came flying down the street from their left, and Grant swung around. That red dot and circle of his rifle sight was perfectly clear. He aimed at the driver and clicked off the safety.
It was Len’s car. Grant went back to pointing his AR at the entrance toward where the men had been. Grant was more afraid of Len hitting him with his car than getting shot.
He was fully alive right now. Every sense—hearing, sight, touch, even smell—was on overdrive. He felt like Superman. Not that he was enjoying this; he just felt invincible.
There were no bad guys around and Grant had Ron and Len covering him. He started to relax. Then he remembered a story Ted told him about guys getting shot when they relaxed after what seemed to be the end of a gunfight. God, Grant was thinking so clearly. He couldn’t believe it.
Once Grant knew where Ron and Len were, and that they had cover, Grant started scanning 360 degrees with his AR. He didn’t want some piece of shit to run up behind him or to his side. He was determined not to get jumped. That would be embarrassing. I could never face the Team if I got jumped instead of searching and assessing like I knew I should be doing, he thought.
Grant started moving to various cover points on his car and then Len’s as he made his sweeps. He was in a zone. He was acting out the training, only this was for real.
Grant saw some things in the street ahead of him. He couldn’t tell what they were. There were about five of them, and some of them were moving. He didn’t know what they were, but they weren’t trying to hurt him.
Ron and Len were talking to him, but Grant couldn’t hear them. His ears were ringing, and his hands were starting to hurt from gripping the AR so tightly.
Grant had to block the entrance. They would be back, and quickly.
“Move the cars across the street so no one can come back at us!” Grant yelled. Ron and Len looked at each other.
“Damn it!” Grant yelled. “Go! Now! Block this entrance. Go!”
They jumped into their cars and moved them so one car blocked each side of the street. No car could get through. Grant used Len’s hood as a rest for his AR and he kept scanning the entrance area with the red dot and circle. He could start to hear people talking to him.
“Hurt. They’re hurt,” Grant heard Len say. What? Who was hurt?
Len pointed to the slow moving things at the entrance.
Oh, God, Grant had shot people. Oh, God. He had hurt people. For the
There was no one there. They seemed to be gone. Grant fired fast until his pistol magazine was empty. Without even thinking, he yelled “check” ejected the magazine, and slammed in a new one. He racked his pistol and started scanning the area for additional bad guys, but he didn’t see any.
“Get in the car and let’s go!” Grant yelled to Ron. Ron got in the driver’s seat and threw the car into reverse once Grant was in the passenger seat.
Ron had moved Grant’s AR out of the passenger seat so Grant wouldn’t smash into it. They backed out of the area quickly; Ron tried not to hit his own car in the process.
Ron quickly backed the car into the intersection of two streets about 150 yards from the entrance and turned around so he was now driving forward. He was driving toward his house when Grant said, “We have to go back to make sure they don’t come back.” Ron abruptly turned the car around, and they flew back to Ron’s car stopped in the middle of the street. They stopped and jumped out of Grant’s car. Grant saw his AR in the back seat. He grabbed it and used the roof of his car as a rest to aim the rifle, which was pointed toward the entrance to the subdivision. Grant wondered why he hadn’t used his rifle in the first place. Why had he engaged targets with this pistol instead of his rifle, which would have been better? Because this is my first gunfight, Grant thought to himself.
A car came flying down the street from their left, and Grant swung around. That red dot and circle of his rifle sight was perfectly clear. He aimed at the driver and clicked off the safety.
It was Len’s car. Grant went back to pointing his AR at the entrance toward where the men had been. Grant was more afraid of Len hitting him with his car than getting shot.
He was fully alive right now. Every sense—hearing, sight, touch, even smell—was on overdrive. He felt like Superman. Not that he was enjoying this; he just felt invincible.
There were no bad guys around and Grant had Ron and Len covering him. He started to relax. Then he remembered a story Ted told him about guys getting shot when they relaxed after what seemed to be the end of a gunfight. God, Grant was thinking so clearly. He couldn’t believe it.
Once Grant knew where Ron and Len were, and that they had cover, Grant started scanning 360 degrees with his AR. He didn’t want some piece of shit to run up behind him or to his side. He was determined not to get jumped. That would be embarrassing. I could never face the Team if I got jumped instead of searching and assessing like I knew I should be doing, he thought.
Grant started moving to various cover points on his car and then Len’s as he made his sweeps. He was in a zone. He was acting out the training, only this was for real.
Grant saw some things in the street ahead of him. He couldn’t tell what they were. There were about five of them, and some of them were moving. He didn’t know what they were, but they weren’t trying to hurt him.
Ron and Len were talking to him, but Grant couldn’t hear them. His ears were ringing, and his hands were starting to hurt from gripping the AR so tightly.
Grant had to block the entrance. They would be back, and quickly.
“Move the cars across the street so no one can come back at us!” Grant yelled. Ron and Len looked at each other.
“Damn it!” Grant yelled. “Go! Now! Block this entrance. Go!”
They jumped into their cars and moved them so one car blocked each side of the street. No car could get through. Grant used Len’s hood as a rest for his AR and he kept scanning the entrance area with the red dot and circle. He could start to hear people talking to him.
“Hurt. They’re hurt,” Grant heard Len say. What? Who was hurt?
Len pointed to the slow moving things at the entrance.
Oh, God, Grant had shot people. Oh, God. He had hurt people. For the
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