Protecting Dallas

CRACK! CRACK!

I saw the glint of sparks against the Jeep’s back bumper, but not much else. Up ahead, I could see the guy in the passenger seat reloading…

“Let me drive!”

Dallas already had one leg over mine. She grabbed the ‘oh-shit’ handle above the driver’s side window, and used it to pull herself towards me.

“ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZ—”

“Let me drive so you can shoot!” she yelled. I was still firmly in my seat. She was sitting almost completely in my lap now.

“But—”

“Move the fuck over!”

It happened out of reflex, like I was obeying an order. Shit, she’d said it forcefully enough.

“Dallas—”

“NO TIME,” she shouted back. She hit a button and the passenger window rolled

down. “C’mon!”

Unbelievably, I listened. I yanked the receiver back on my SCAR and stretched my entire torso out the window for leverage.

“Keep it steady for a second!” I shouted. “Give me a good—”

The first round ripped into my shoulder just above the clavicle. The second and third ones were grazing, tearing two streaks in my jacket right along the top of my arm.

I could feel an instant wetness coming from my wounds. It only made me grit my teeth harder as I squeezed the trigger…

CRACK-CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!

The passenger jerked back with the impact, his arms flying forward as he dropped his weapon. It went skidding off along the pavement, even as he went limp against the side of the Jeep.

Almost immediately, someone yanked my target back inside.

“You got him!”

We turned again, this time so sharply I imagined the Jeep flipping over. It didn’t, but it came damn close. And somehow Dallas gained ground on the turn.

What is she, a professional driver or—

The jeep spun sideways again, this time onto the main thoroughfare. The village center was made up of a big circle, the spokes of which ended in a big central hub. There were people everywhere, walking the sidewalks. I saw crowds, old and young. Couples holding hands…

I lowered my rifle.

“Get alongside it!” I shouted.

My arm stung. My pride stung more. Red had blossomed through my shirt and was dripping down toward my elbow.

“YOU’RE HIT?”

Dallas’s face was stark white — all concern. She kept glancing at my wounded shoulder.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” I told her. “Hey, keep your eyes on the roa—”

I jerked the wheel for her… just in time to avoid sideswiping a van. Dallas put her head forward, shoulders hunched. I felt the truck surge beneath us as she pressed the pedal to the floor.