Knowing that Nami and Nelson were likely apprehended set an internal timer in Bree’s mind. At some point, the men from Washington would figure out where they were and then things would get really interesting. Lloyd and Nelson thought they would carpet bomb the entire area.
Bree would have found the idea of the U.S. government bombing their own soil ludicrous less than twenty-four hours ago, but a lot had happened since then. She wasn’t so sure that they wouldn’t dust an entire state to get to Smith now.
The door in the building behind the Ferris wheel flew open and three men ran out. Bree sighted the lead man and squeezed off a shot that caught him dead center in the chest. He dropped like a stone. The guard behind him nearly tripped over his body.
Bree worked the action on her rifle, never taking her eye from the scope.
Both of the remaining men scrambled for cover. One dove behind a bench, the other slid over to the base of the Ferris wheel, disappearing from Bree’s view. She aimed at the bench the man hid behind, careful to keep her breathing slow and steady.
A tree split the area between Bree’s position and the bench, partially obscuring the man in the gray suit. She settled the crosshairs on the lowest slat and waited for him to make a move. His feet were visible along with a portion of a rifle.
She considering shooting him in the ankle to see if that would force him to pop his head out, but decided against it. There was only a limited amount of shots she could fire before they would zero in on her position.
Huxx ducked behind a tree a few dozen yards ahead of her and stopped. He raised his gun, fired off a few rounds toward the Ferris wheel, and then ran to the next tree.
Bree swung her rifle in the direction Huxx had fired.
A bald man peeked around the base of the Ferris wheel. He saw Huxx crouched behind the tree and raised his gun. He’d just fired his first shot when Bree dropped him with a bullet to the side of the head.
She chambered another cartridge.
As she turned her attention back to the man behind the bench, she saw Huxx double tap him in the chest with two bullets. She marveled at how methodical and accurate the former Navy Seal was. Normally, he would have been working with a team he’d spent months or years training with, but now, he stormed a castle by himself.
“Closing in on the target,” Tate said.
“Already here.” Huxx hunched down behind a tiny structure that had COTTON CANDY painted above an open window.
The tiny pop of distant gunshots echoed from the west. Bree hoped the detective and Briggs were okay. They hadn’t radioed in after Tate and Huxx. She understood that Lloyd wanted to save his friend, but she feared his diminished physical condition would hinder the team more than help.
Movement beyond Huxx caught Bree’s attention. She aimed a few feet over his head and saw Tate and Shea break the tree line and run across an open patch of concrete. They passed a rank of dollar games and paused beside a structure that used to house a ball pit.
Bree was about to concentrate on the entrance to the facility when she saw a flash of gray behind Tate.
One of Smith’s men stood just behind a tree, only a gray sleeve and the barrel of a rifle visible from Bree’s angle. The muzzle was pointed at Shea and Tate.
“On your six,” Bree said into the mic.
Tate spun around and popped a few shots off at the man.
Shea moved to the other side of the ball pit and fired.
Another series of gunshots came from the north, closer to the facility.
“Damn.” Bree hesitated, her scope still hovering over the tree with a guard behind it. She finally looked away, hoping they could handle the man without her cover. Off to her team’s right came three more armed men, all firing at Tate and Shea’s position.
Dust kicked off the pavement around Tate’s feet. He dove inside the empty ball pit. His head popped up a moment later, and he squeezed off several rounds.
Jack Shea put a hand on a half-wall beside him and vaulted over it. Midway through the jump, he twisted in the air and collapsed out of Bree’s view.
In a flash, Bree sighted the lead man and dropped him with a round to the gut. He fell to the ground, flopping around like a landed fish. His screams reached her ears as little more than whispers.
“Shea is hit!” Tate had stopped firing and disappeared inside the small structure.
Bree aimed at the second man and cut him down with a shot through the heart. She chambered another bullet as the third attacker disappeared on the other side of a rusted, purple children’s ride.
The man taking cover behind the tree stepped out and quickly advanced toward the ball pit. Bree swiveled the gun on the bipod and aimed at him as he passed behind an overgrown thicket of bushes. Bree paused, waiting for him to reappear so she would have a clear shot.
He finally popped out when he was less than five feet away from Tate and Shea’s hiding spot. With his body turned sideways from Bree’s position, she didn’t have the clean angle she’d hoped for.
She took it anyway.
The bullet tore through his rifle, shattering the stock.
It punctured his shoulder, spun him around.
Tate popped up and watched as the man fell to the pavement.
Bree put a second round through his back.
His screams fell silent a moment later.
Tate looked back at Bree. He gave her a thumbs-up. “Nice shot, kid.”
Coming from Tate, Bree recognized that as a compliment of the highest order. She keyed her mic. “We’ve got a hostile at—”
Bullets ripped into the car she sat in, splintering the wood and tearing through to the seat behind her. Bree ducked down as low as she could and checked the area at the bottom of the hill. Two men ran toward the entrance of the ride, firing up at her.
They were close enough that it would be difficult for her to see them through the scope. She dropped the rifle to the torn leather of the seat and skinned her pistol from the holster. With a slow exhale, she aimed at the center mass of the nearest man and squeezed off two shots.
Neither hit their mark.
More bullets smashed into the roller-coaster train.
The last few hit mere inches from Bree’s legs.
If she stayed there any longer, one of them was bound to find its home.
Bree shot at the men again, forcing them to take cover behind a series of turnstiles.
She grabbed the rifle and vaulted over the front of the car, landing on the angled track. Her feet slipped out from under her, and she landed on her ass on the wood shoulder. The steep cant sent her sliding down toward the men, picking up speed.
Jamming her boots down kept her from spinning, but it did little to slow her descent. Her body shuddered as her butt hit small gaps between the boards, jittering her aim as she tried to shoot at the men.
One of them popped up and put a round right between her feet. A splinter of wood launched into her cheek, almost hitting her in the eye. Bree squinted against it and kept firing as she neared the bottom of the hill.
The slide on her pistol locked back as she emptied the mag.
Her boots hit the level part of the track and she leapt over the side, landing on the ground. She tossed the rifle down as she took cover behind a large, metal trash can. In a smooth motion, she dropped the magazine from the bottom of her pistol and jammed a fresh one in.
Years of practicing for such a moment made her movements quick and precise, though her jangled nerves threatened to betray all of her training. If she paused for even a millisecond, her mind would freeze up on her.
Bree glanced around the side of the trash can.
One of the men had left his hiding spot and was advancing on her position. His firearm barked and a bullet ricocheted from the metal in front of Bree.
Knowing they would have her pinned down if they got any closer, Bree dove to her right and rolled behind a sign with the name of the roller coaster on it. More rounds dug into the dirt and grass around her as she slid to a stop.
The firing paused.
Bree jumped up and saw that the lead man had emptied his gun. He was in the process of reloading when she put four bullets into his torso.
Without waiting, Bree sprinted straight for him, keeping her aim true. As he fell to his knees, the man behind him came into focus. Bree emptied her magazine at him, but he ducked down again. She didn’t think anything had connected.
“Manning, what’s your status?” Tate asked.
Bree reached the body of the first man and plucked the M16 from his hands. He’d just stuck a fresh magazine in when she’d put him down, so she released the bolt and aimed just above the turnstile leading to the roller coaster.
When the man peeked over the top, Bree shot him between the eyes.
She slumped down, breathing hard.
“Clear,” she huffed into the mic.