For the second time that night, Zack was grateful for the chaos and commotion, as well as for the fact that he’d emerged onto the property at a spot on the left half of the yard that was out of the line of sight of both men. He moved quickly, the screams and the wind masking his footfalls on the damp grass, the backdrop of the woods providing a dark canvas into which he blended, but not for much longer. He needed to close the distance before he took decisive action to end the confrontation. He only had a clear shot at the hostile holding the terrified couple at bay, as the boy had scrambled under the elevated platform near a hanging tire swing.

Just a few more seconds. Zack moved at a hard-jog pace, the Glock tracking the gunman. He was equidistant from the gunman and the play set, and he slowed his speed to line up a clean shot on the hostile with the couple. Anyone who thought running and gunning was a sound tactical technique watched way too much TV or thought Call of Duty was the height of realistic warfare. A good shot required control and accuracy, and jogging was not conducive to either. There was a reason operators used a combat walk, where one slowed down to a fast walk with knees bent to prevent the muzzle from rising and falling with each stride, and even then, it wasn’t perfectly accurate.

Zack transitioned into a hasty version of it and aimed the Glock at the gunman. The good news for Zack was that the couple was to the gunman’s right, and any wild rounds wouldn’t strike them.

Zack unleashed three shots in quick succession. One or two missed, but the odds were in his favor. He heard a grunt of pain as one round struck the target. He fired two more times and was rewarded with the sight of the gunman beginning to crumple straight to the ground, although he didn’t watch long enough to see him hit. Head shot. Good. And then he focused his attention on the next enemy and the boy under the play set.

He didn’t have a clear shot, as the two figures had merged under the shadows of the platform. Oh well. Plan B. Zack ducked his head under the edge of the platform, as the space didn’t have enough clearance for him to stand at his full height. It was made for children, not grown men engaged in close-quarters combat. He was pretty sure this wasn’t one of the approved usages in the play-set manual.

Zack accelerated, covered the remaining distance in three quick strides, and lowered his left shoulder, the Glock still in his right hand.