Not that he was complaining about the snow. Right now it was protecting him from the dedicated sniper rifles in the mountains; with a range up to fifteen hundred meters, they’d have a massive advantage once the air cleared.

Which it looked to be doing right now, the billows lessening in intensity, the snowfall growing more sparse by the minute.

A movement at the front door of the chalet hooked his attention—Candy and Orphan M spilling into view on the porch. Their heads tilted up, locking on Evan. They regarded one another across the distance.

He’d have no time to set up a shot on the rifle. They were beyond effective firing range of the AK-47, but Evan lifted it and gave them a greeting anyway. The rounds pulverized the stone porch, driving them back inside.

They’d have to regroup, scavenge weapons from the wreckage of the ballroom.

He’d better use the head start well.

Slinging the AR-10 over a shoulder, he jammed a new mag into the AK and bolted for the tree cover of the south slope. The snow thinned before his eyes, the gleam of the afternoon sun cutting through the haze.

At that instant something lasered into the ground a few feet from his boots, the spray peppering the right side of his body. A moment later a supersonic crack announced the shot.

Evan cut sharply. With a quick glance, he registered a glint of reflected light past the bulge two-thirds up the mountain, a fine long-distance overwatch position. The sound of another shot rolled across the valley, but he’d heard no impact, the round having sailed wider than the previous one. He dove over a fallen log, skidding into the safe embrace of the densely packed tree trunks, and sat, panting. He gave a moment of thanks for the south sniper’s mediocrity; the north sniper would’ve tunneled a hole through Evan’s rib cage.

He stood up, took stock of the weapons, and sprinted into the pines. He had to take out the south sniper and get over the brink before nightfall. Candy and M would be on his heels soon enough.

Rather than cut directly upslope as the sniper might anticipate, he sliced horizontally around the base of the woods to pop out on the far side of the bulge. It was slow going, his boots sinking into the snow, but he managed to hold a steady pace.

When he reached a ravine, he held several paces back from the last row of trees. Keeping to the shadows, he scanned the mountainside through the AR-10’s scope. Greens and browns streaked together, and then he scanned past a spot of flesh.

He rotated the scope back.