State of Pursuit by Summer Lane Page B

action.
    And the more I think about it, the more annoyed I become.
    If Chris were here, he would teach Uriah a few things about manners…
    A flicker of movement catches the corner of my left eye. “Whoa, hold it,” I say, jerking back on Katana’s reins.
    We halt and Manny stops, too. He turns back to face me, alarmed. “What?” he demands.
    “I saw something move,” I reply, nodding toward the spot.
    I look toward the tall grass on the side of the mountain. The moonlight casts a silvery glow over the field. In the distance is a decrepit barn. But right below it…I saw something move. And because I’m a sniper, the
possibility
of movement is as problematic as the
confirmation
of it.
    “Where?” Manny asks.
    “On your nine o’clock,” I whisper.
    “Roger that, Cassidy,” Derek says.
    I quickly scan our surroundings. There’s nothing but wide-open grassy fields behind us and in front of us. We won’t hit a covered area until we reach the base of the next hill. We’re completely, totally exposed on ourflanks, except for a few rocks and defilades – low spots in the terrain.
    It turns my blood to ice water.
    This is a kill zone.
    “What do we do, boss?” Derek asks me.
    What would Chris do? What would he say ?
    “We keep going,” I say. “Dismount and gun walk to cover.”
    As soon as the words are out of my mouth, the sound of rifle fire cracks the silence of the night. Behind me, a horse rears on its hind legs, whinnying loudly. The militiaman on his back – a man named Matt – is thrown to the ground. He flies through the air like a limp ragdoll, landing with a sickening
crunch
on his neck. I drop out of my saddle and crouch on the protected side of Katana’s shoulder. I spring to the man on the ground. His head is twisted at an unnatural angle, his eyes wide open.
    Dead.
    And there’s a red bullet wound right below his ear.
    “Ambush!” I shout. “Cover, cover, cover!”
    Whoever is hiding in the grass lets loose. The fusillade of rifle fire cuts through the air. I stay close to the ground, adrenaline shooting through my veins, heightening my senses. I manage to swing my rifle upand rattle off a thirty-round magazine of suppressive fire.
    Militiamen scramble, jumping out of their saddles, taking cover behind the hulking, muscled bodies of their horses. Katana snorts and paws the dirt. Another militiaman hits the ground.
    “There’s at least ten shooters out there!” Derek yells, his rifle in his hands. “We’re dead if we move!”
    “We have to reach cover!”
    “There’s no way to get there without being shot!”
    I shake my head. That’s not true. There’s always a way.
    Chris would find a way. Come on, Cassie. Think like Chris
.
    I yank a white smoke grenade out of my kit.
    “We need to cover our escape!” I shout. “I’ll throw the first grenade, Derek will follow it with another, and then Uriah, Manny, Vera, Andrew and so on. We’ll create a smokescreen!”
    The rest of the militiamen are returning fire, shooting back at muzzle flashes in the moonlight. I don’t hesitate. I pop the ring on the grenade and chuck it as far as I can into the open field. I jam my boot into the right stirrup of Katana’s saddle and hang on for dear life to the restraints, keeping my body on one side of the horse. Uriah slaps Katana’s rear flank and she charges forward.I’ve got one leg halfway over the saddle, using her body as a shield. I maintain a desperate grip as Katana leaps away. The grenades explode, billows of thick smoke curling into the air, creating a thick curtain across the field. More grenades detonate. More gunfire. Louder, faster, quicker.
    Boom, boom, boom, boom!
    Murderous rounds from a large caliber weapon hammers into action.
    My arms burn, clutching the saddle as Katana sprints forward. Tears slide down my cheeks, an effect of wind and resistance and the torturous effort of maintaining a grip on Katana’s saddle.
    More grenades detonate. Men mount horses and follow