The shot had come from the woods near the river. The shooter was up on a hill in the forest. I risked putting my head up and looking over the hood. An anti-materiel sniper rifle is a big deal. It is noisy and raises a hell of a lot of dust. But the woods weren’t dusty, because of last night’s rain, and I couldn’t see much through the leaves. The shots were still echoing off the hill.

Another round smacked into the car’s hood, destroying the front end and tearing off a piece of the bumper. I hunkered down with Nazari, willing myself to disappear. The Peugeot’s not a big car, but the engine weighs about three hundred fifty pounds, so it’s a decent thing to have between your body and the barrel of a monster gun. I looked at Nazari. She was curled up behind the wheel well, beside what I figured was the position of the engine block. She yelled out, “What the hell is that?”

“I guess they really want us to go away forever.”

“Yes. But what is it?”

“Sniper rifle.”

“Shit, I liked my car.”

I put my head out again and took a more careful look. Either my head was coming off, or I would get a clue. Either one was better than being huddled in terror. I saw movement up in the forest. I reached into the back seat of the Peugeot and pulled the MP5 from where I’d stashed it under the front seat. I chambered a round and flicked the switch to triple. Fifteen rounds in the clip and one in the chamber. Sixteen rounds total.

I stretched out my foot to drag in the torn-off piece of car bumper, raised it up above the car. Another shot boomed and the shock wave from the round rippled across the skin of my hand, missing the piece of car bumper by a couple inches. I stood up, laid the H&K over the roof and fired two triple bursts more or less randomly in the general direction of the shooter. Then I saw someone coming up the road from the bridge. It was another shooter, not a friendly. I put a quick triple in his direction before ducking down behind the engine block.

Nine rounds gone, seven to go. At least two active shooters. Not good.

I risked another look. The guy on the road had taken cover, which was good. At least it delayed him. Maybe the sniper was doing the same, after I’d put a couple of bullets his way. I didn’t even consider the possibility he’d been hit. My shots were way off target, suppression fire.

She said, “What’s the plan?”