Those Who Remain (Book 2) by Priscila Santa Rosa Page B

my gun while she kicks the body off her.
    My bullet goes into her neck. Blood spurts out of the gaping wound and she vomits red. I shoot again when she tries to raise her gun at me.
    “Panther, you alive? Yell if you are alive.”
    “She’s not,” I answer instead.
    My stupid gloating results in rapid fire, forcing me to duck. The bullets hit the wall behind me, plaster flying everywhere. I run from my position. The smoke provides me with some cover until I reach the clerk’s counter again.
    With my free hand, I clean the sweat off my face. The bag is heavy and my shoulder is killing me. Two out, five to go. I need to finish this last woman fast; someone out there probably heard the shots already. I lean over to the side of the counter, trying to spot a sign of my target.
    Between the fog and overturned tables, I see her feet moving.
    “I’m over here,” I shout and wait.
    She stops in order to pinpoint my location. Perfect. I raise my gun and shoot, hitting her left knee. She screams and grabs the nearest plastic chair so as not to fall. I shoot again: her right knee explodes, fabric opening wide open and blood coming out of the hole.
    “Shit! Fuck!”
    She’s out of commission for now, facing the floor and moaning in pain. I move with my head down to the front of the Pizzeria, ignoring the woman’s moans. Hunched, I survey the street outside. The two drivers are out of the truck, guns aimed at the pizzeria.
    “What do you mean, you can’t see anyone in there?” The man with the red star shouts. “Get in there and scout the fucking area, dumbfuck.”
    Mrs. Terrence starts to shoot. Everyone ducks and turns their backs to the store, searching for cover behind the cars. This is my chance. I calculate the closest driver and run, tackling him to the floor and shooting him point blank in the exposed face. Thanks to the loud bang of Mrs. Terrence shots, nobody notices. He’s a skinny one, and I quickly take his vest and put it on me, taking advantage of the cover fire.
    “Fuck this! Bring out the clowns, Tomahawk,” the leader shouts, cowering behind his own truck, to my left.
    Damn it. There’s still too many of them out there. Three and the infected. Trying hard not to be seen, I lean over the truck, just enough to spot the middle of the street. The man with the mullet and the one holding the infected shove Roger, Danny and my mother onto their knees, in clear view.
    “I don’t know how many of you are there and I don’t care. If you keep fucking with me, I’m going to shoot the sheriff, the nerd and the soccer mom, here. Or feed them to my pet. I haven’t decided yet.”
    Mrs. Terrence doesn’t reveal her position, but she stops shooting. I need to move. Fast.
    “Okay, that’s an improvement. Now Mr. Sniper, show yourself. You have ten seconds.”
    Shit.
    “Two… Three….”
    I spot the other driver, still crouched behind the back of the car. She’s has an apple in her helmet and seems too distracted with the sniper to see me coming.
    “Five… Six….”
    I drop the heavy bag behind, and move crouched in her direction.
    “Eight… Nine….”
    She turns her head around just in time to see me pounce on her. I press my gun against her neck and tell her to get up.
    “Hey, you!” I scream at their leader. “Drop your weapon. Or she dies.”
    “Let me guess, you're the rescue team?” Mullet man turns in my direction with a smirk. “Interesting.”
    My gaze locks on Roger’s bruised face; he stares at me with wide eyes. “Drop it now,” I repeat the threat.
    He yawns and raises his weapon. A shot rings. The woman’s body goes limp and something slimy and sticky hits me in the chest: her blood and guts. I get down to avoid the rest of his clip. Out of breath, I close my eyes for a second, trying hard to calm down. He knows my position now and proved he’s more than willing to kill anyone to get what he wants.
    The question is: what the hell does he want?
    “See? That’s how you deal with