Zeb looked behind him.
No shooter in sight. Not yet.
He looked below, his vision restricted by the hollow.
The downhill slope extended for another hundred yards below them.
He couldn’t hear any footsteps in that direction.
The rifle opened up again and raked the top of their hollow.
He saw Sara cover, trying to make herself smaller.
She was just five feet away.
Looking back at him, scared.
Move forward, he mouthed. Get away from me.
She inched ahead.
He wriggled back.
And stopped when a round pierced through the soil and nearly creased his shoulder.
No cover behind me.
The hollow ends.
The depression was small.
Maybe a foot and a half deep.
Just enough to protect their bodies.
The shooter had all the advantages.
He could keep on firing until the soil broke.
He could then pick them off.
Zeb lunged up when the rifle stopped to snatch a look.
Ducked back.
Trees. No hitter in the open.
However, behind one fir a barrel had been sticking out.
About ten feet away.
Close. Very close. Couldn’t see another shooter.
Only one rifle firing at us.
He shifted slightly to ease the hard press of the rifles on his back.
Got an idea.
Holstered the Glock that had leaped into his hand when he was diving.
Reached behind carefully.
Shrank when a round sang into the air, over his body.
Dug himself deeper into the ground and reached back again.
Grabbed one HK and twisted it up and around till he could hold it.
‘Gringo.’
He froze.
‘I know you are there.’ The voice sounded cheerful. English with a Mexican accent.
‘We found Julio. He was alive. Joachim killed him. He has no use for an injured man.’
He spat and let loose another volley, raining mud and stones on Zeb.
‘We also found Torres. And Loya. Both were my friends.’
‘I have time, gringo,’ he chuckled. ‘Where you are hiding. That won’t hide you forever. Then I will kill you. And that girl …’ He smacked his lips loudly.
‘I will play with her.’
‘Then I will give her to Joachim.’
Zeb saw Sara shiver and crawl forward another foot.
A thought nagged him.
This dude didn’t need to announce his intention.
He could have kept firing and our cover would have collapsed.
He’s sounding confident.
He’s got backup?
A stick cracked.
He twisted his head.
Cold washed over him when he saw a second shooter come into view.
Below them.
Six or seven feet away.
AK casually but firmly gripped.
Heading towards Sara.