Oh no you don’t, asshole. Zack fired a single shot that tore into the man’s neck, sending a splash of blood across the grass. The man dropped the Glock from his right hand and brought his fingers to his neck as if to staunch the wound.

Good luck with that. Zack knew the hollow-point round had done considerable damage. The shooter was a dead man sitting, even if he didn’t know it yet.

The man looked up at the boy who stared back at him in horror as the blood pumped through the shooter’s fingers and down his uniform. He fell over sideways, and his hand dropped to the grass, his life spilling out onto the ground, sanctifying it with dark blood.

“Get on the ground! Everyone, get on the ground! now!” The appearance of more men shook the boy from his death reverie. He turned around and saw men with guns. Realizing there were no more fights on the card for him, he held his arms up and knelt on the ground.

Bullets struck the tree to Zack’s left, and he realized his luck had just run out. The brave boy would have to fend for himself for now. If Zack were captured or killed, he’d be no good to anyone. Mission first, Zachary. Mission first. Sure. Whatever you say, boss.

He held the weapon at port arms, turned, and fled deeper into the woods, praying the increased gunfire in his direction wouldn’t result in a lucky shot. At least you got four of the bastards. That’s a force multiplier in your favor. Not bad for a retiree. He smiled to himself at his handiwork as he evaded his pursuers.

His first point of order was simple—get back to his house through the woods and reassess the situation. He knew that once they’d secured the residents, they’d be going house to house to look for him and do whatever else they’d come here to do. He needed a plan, and he needed one fast.

He moved quickly and quietly and thought about his wife and beautiful children. I sure hope their weekend has been less eventful than mine.

Part III Under Siege

Part III
Under Siege

Chapter Eleven

Chapter
ELEVEN