Then her foot stomped down on the forearm of his gun hand, pinning it as she stepped over him. He kept fighting, lashed out with a vicious, inhumanly fast fist towards her exposed groin. She brought her knee up faster, blocked his fist with her shin, then dropped all her weight on him with that knee, knocking the wind from him. Still he struggled, boosted muscles straining at her. So Sam took the gun from his hand and slammed it grip-first into the side of his head, below his ear. Once, twice, three times. And finally the man went limp.

Sam rose, the gun in her hand. Silenced. At least four rounds left. She turned towards the front of the house, kicked the door open in time to see one of the men put a bullet into Jake’s chest.

“NO!” Sam screamed. Distantly she heard the man who’d shot Jake cursing.

Sam raised her gun to fire but Sarai was there, in the line of sight, screaming now. She’d was trying to exit the van but the Mira woman had her by the arm. The other Mira soldier fired towards the house, and Sam dropped and rolled, her heart pounding in her chest.

She heard gravel crunch outside. They were coming towards her. She forced herself to visualize the courtyard. She had to shoot low, aim for the soldiers’ legs, stay clear of Sarai and the van and any other kids that had managed to break free.

Sam popped up in the window of the girls’ room, forced herself to take stock of the situation before she fired, to be sure that no children were in the way.

Her hesitation almost killed her. The Mira soldier who’d shot Jake fired on her and she felt a bullet punch into her left tricep. She fired back twice, ignored the burning pain, and saw the man go down as her bullets took him in the left leg.

Then she dropped below the window, rolled to another spot in the room. The wall would offer only scant protection.

She could hear the woman yelling now. “The children are the top priority! We have to get them out of here.”

Sam popped up again and the soldiers were under cover, on the other side of the van, climbing into it on the passenger side. One slid across to the driver’s side and then the van was moving. Sam took careful aim at his head and fired once, twice, thrice, four times, until the gun clicked empty. The shots hit the armored windshield, spiderwebbed it but didn’t break through. The van rushed forward and out the gate.