At first, I think I’ve been hit. My stomach drops and I hide behind a barrel. But there’s no yodeling, so I suppose I’ve still got three shots in me. The lights cease and the yard pitches into blackness again.

Jude didn’t mention the addition of a sporadic light show. Should make things more interesting. Now that I somewhat have my bearings, I’ll have to use the light show to find Fitz and take him down.

But before I can do more than catch my breath, my vest lights up and a loud yodel fills the night air. People on the porch cheer and laugh.

I’ve been hit.

“Ouch, Reese,” Jude’s megaphone sounds from the porch. “That’s one hit for Fitz. Zero for Reese.”

The disco lights flash again and I glance around the yard, but I can’t see Fitz anywhere.

I didn’t hear him move.

He probably knows exactly where I am too, since he just shot me and I haven’t budged so I need to be getting a move on.

I circle one of the barrels, staying low and listening. The lights turn off and I’m about to make a run for a wall nearby when my vest lights up and once again the yodeling startles me into a laugh.

“Two hits now for Fitz Moreland! Only one more hit and you’re out, Tootsie Roll,” Jude’s voice echoes over the backyard.

Darn it all to Dante.

The lights flash again and I use the opportunity to make a run for better cover, glancing around as I do so, on the lookout for any movement. Trying to get myself out of the lights brings me to my favorite place to hide.

I get behind one of the bushes and settle with my back to the fence, considering strategy. The lights click off again, but not before I catch Fitz’s head over one of the partitions.

I take aim and shoot, gratified when the distinct sound of a rooster crowing sounds.

“One hit for Reese! Score is now two to one in favor of Mr. Moreland,” Jude’s megaphone echoes over the yard.

The crowd yells, some cheering, some booing and yelling, “Come on, Reese!”

The lights click on again but I don’t see any movement from this vantage point.

After a few seconds, the yard is once again plunged into darkness.

And that’s when I hear it—footsteps, right next to my hiding spot.

Before I can make a run for it, my gun is knocked loose and he’s right in front of me.

My weapon is on the ground somewhere, the fence to my back and Fitz’s gun pointed straight at my vest.

Nowhere to hide.

Fitz’s leans into me, despite the gun between us. “You lose.” His voice is low and gravelly.

Dangerous. If danger includes the sounds of yodeling and roosters.

“Not yet,” I say.

“You can’t win. You don’t even have a gun anymore.”

“You can only fail if you stop trying.” I repeat his words back at him from Begonia Day.